My polite note to ‘neighbour thief

LUCY Gransbury spent $300 to see her neighbour stealing a parcel on CCTV. But she had one final step to get her much wanted package back.

DID you ever catch yourself in the middle of doing something, and wonder ‘how on Earth did I end up here?’

That’s exactly the feeling I had as I sat at my kitchen table, writing a delicate, handwritten note accusing my neighbour of thieving my lipstick.

Let me start from the top.

A few months ago, I ordered a few beauty items from Clinique. I’m usually a supermarket- clearance-bin-make-up kinda gal, so this was a rare treat that had me drumming my fingertips together with glee, a lá Mr Montogomery Burns. In particular, I was pumped for a lipstick called Nude Pop, which I’d tried once before as a free sample. Peeps, I am telling you, this Nude Pop lippy is such a perfect shade of pink, it brings tears to my heavily mascara’d eyes. It’s lipalicious.

One lazy afternoon, I got an alert from Australia Post letting me know my parcel had been delivered. I was very excited … but not excited enough to actually get out of my dressing gown, put down my nachos and trudge downstairs to get it. An hour later, sans gown and with a face full of salsa, I finally reached the lobby. But there was no parcel. Wot dis? Where lippy?

All I found down there was a bill. I WANT MY LIPPY!

I shamefully assumed it was Aus Post’s fault and contacted them. “’Tis not,” they cried. After proving this with a photo of my parcel sitting neatly next to the letterboxes (on the ledge I instructed them to leave it on, where everyone in our building has parcels delivered), I had to admit it was not their fault. Clearly, someone had walked straight in and taken it from that ledge. Yes, this is my fault for being so trusting of the general public and the other people in my building, but shush now … isn’t that a nice way to be?!

Anywho. Later that night, we (me and my fiance; a lawyer and part-time, self-appointed, amateur detective) contacted the Owner’s Corp of our building, and asked them for the CCTV footage that would hopefully incriminate the culprit.

Long story short: our Owner’s Corp made us pay $300 to obtain the footage. Yes, they legally can. And hell yes, we paid it. The package was worth only $60, but sweet revenge is priceless.

MORE: Thief’s ‘convenient’ excuse after being caught on CCTV

Five weeks later, our OC delivered to us the most perfect 30 seconds of clear, hi-def colour footage: A lady from our apartment building picks up my parcel, takes a deep breath (her last breath of innocence) … and then TAKES MY BEAUTIFUL LIPSTICK AWAY.

That first viewing of the damning footage was the best 30 seconds of my life. We’d caught a thief! We could see which letterbox she keyed into before taking my parcel, so we knew which apartment she lived in. WE HAD HER!

But we did not.

Suggestions from friends and internet strangers (because of course I told the internet about the situation; I’m a millennial, shut up) ranged from hilarious to bone-chilling. Write ‘thief’ in lipstick on her door. Mail her the CCTV footage. Send another package to myself, and when she imminently steals it, remote-control release a vial of smallpox.

Instead, we opted for a friendly note, because a) this was a human person who lived in our building and b) I am a chicken sh*t coward who can’t handle real non-internet confrontation.

The note asked for a recovery of our costs ($60 parcel + $300 CCTV footage) and said lovely things like “might be a misunderstanding” and “want to avoid police involvement”. It also included my fiance’s phone number in case she wanted to chat about it.

I really didn’t want to confront her. Maybe I was too nice in the note.

A few days later, she rang. And broke our hearts, again.

Our lipstick thief told my fiance that she hadn’t “stolen” the parcel, she’d moved it from the lobby to in front of our apartment door so that no one else would steal it.

If she’s telling the truth, she is a delightful human who deserves cuddles and a lifetime supply of salt and vinegar chips.

If she’s lying, then she spent five days inventing the perfect excuse, and she’s an evil genius.

There are no more CCTV cameras we can consult. No eyewitnesses. No dusting for fingerprints. It was the least gratifying outcome possible. Other than blaming a (seemingly) innocent woman for a crime she did not commit, I was out $360 and one glorious lipstick, with no ideas who else might have taken it.

There was no happy ending.

Until Clinique saved me.

This colour is worth the saga. Get it.

I recounted my whole unsatisfying story to them, and they rewarded me with a replacement lippie. My glorious Nude Pop #1. My lips and my heart were both filled with gratitude. Clinique, you beautiful shiny creatures: You are worth every cent.

Whether my neighbour is truly innocent or not, we’ll never know. I believe her, I really do — she seems like a lovely person. But there’s a part of me, deep down, that desperately wants to break into her apartment and check her bathroom drawer for my little stick of lip heaven.

But I better not. She might have a CCTV camera in there.

Lucy Gransbury is a Melbourne actor and comedian. She has no sponsorship deal with Clinique, they clearly just don’t like thieving neighbours either. Follow her on Twitter: @LucyGransbury