My branch was robbed yesterday. Not some simple note-passer wanting some cash, but two vicious thugs on a take down style grab. They roughed up my teller and scared the holy crap outta my personal banker. I thank the stars and all that is holy that they were not seriously hurt or killed.
I was not there. I was down the road at another branch getting remedial teller training. That crock of B.S. saved my life. I saw the tape after the robbery, when I finally was able to get to the branch and check on my employees. For all intents and purposes, if I was there, someone would be telling my wife she is now a single mother. It was that vicious. I have every reason to believe that they could have venitlated me or someone else in that lobby.
At the same time, one of the other branches in our happy little family was cased by a suspected bank robber. Guess who gets two weeks of protection by an off-duty HPD officer?
Guess who's employees quit working on the spot?
Guess who gets to just keep his doors locked until a new secure access door and cameras can be installed?
Guess who doesn't get police protection?
Guess who's starting to look for other work?
They can take their happy-go-lucky feelgood crap and shove it sideways with a rusty spoon and barbed wire brush.
I was involved in a robbery once before. Didn't like it. But I got over it. Last night, I couldn't sleep because I kept waking up from nightmares. In the nightmare, it was me in the back room with a .45 to my head. And when I couldn't open the vault. . . .
I have a wife and unborn child to think of. And I was thinking about them all day today. My child is going to have a daddy, even if he has to denegrate himself and go back to outside sales.
Getting There
11 months ago
1 comment:
I pretty much like my job. I like my bosses. I like what I do. I like my co-workers.
If there were a not-insignificant risk of getting shot at work, I'd be out the door in an attosecond. I don't get paid to be shot at.
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