It's odd how parts of one's career can be perfect echoes one of the other.
The first individual task i was given on joining a major food supplier was to sort out the fate of a consignment of canned orange juice on a ship which had lost its steering in the Med, and was salvaged. All goods on such a ship share the same fate, falling into the hands of the salvager, and so I attempted to contact them, only to be told the matter was in the hands of a Spanish Court, who would let us know. Orange juice being perishable, I told them not to bother, by the time that was sorted out it would be unusable, and sent the thing off to the insurance. End of story, or so I thought.
Years went by, and I prepared to move to a new job. As I put the last thing on my desk in the box, the phone rang, it was the harbourmaster of the port the ship was brought back into, complaining that he had a load of tins marked with the company's name on the end of a pier and they were going bang. Ten gallons of orange juice left in the Spanish sun for a couple of years ferments most magnificently, and there were thousands of the things. I explained they were almost certainly the lost consignment, and nothing to do with us - but what can we do, pleaded the poor sob. You probably can't move them, so the only remaining option is to bulldoze them over the edge into the dock - which occasionally gurgles evilly to this day, I am told.