Robber and the Crazy Lady

PART  I

I thought I would share this story with you.  Apparently it’s a story Queen Maker likes to tell because it almost always seems to impress the guys and shows how kick ass his wife is but in reality falls into the “You don’t want to mess with this crazy bitch” category.  After Queen Maker mentions the incident, his students look for me to recount the story.  It’s a long one, so here is Part I of a three part series.

This happened on a fine summer day at our branch.

I heard an irate voice in the lobby.  A customer was yelling at a teller, “Don’t you walk away from me. Don’t you walk away from me, bitch!”  I looked back in time to see one teller leading another teller away from her window.  That’s weird.  This guy must have been really abusive. Time to step in and take the heat.  I was always willing to take the heat from angry customers; one of my more endearing qualities. I went out to the lobby, hoping to diffuse the situation by inviting the customer into my office to discuss his problem.

The young man quickly moved to another teller window and pushed 70-year-old Mr. S out of the way. Mr. S didn’t get was going on, so he just kept looking up at the man with the hoodie and dark sunglasses and saying, “I was here first. I was here already.”  The young man ignored him and said something to the teller. 

By this time I am standing directly behind the customer, so he didn’t see me at all. Before I can say, “Sir, is there something I can do to help?”  I hear, “Hey do you want someone to get hurt?” showing the teller he had something in his pocket, supposedly something that might hurt someone.  Oh… this is not an irate customer, but an irate bank robber.

The teller looked up and her eyes asked, “What should I do?” I nodded and she began pushing money at him under the glass.  I stood very still.  I didn’t want the guy to see me, because I thought it might set him off. Not like I was trying to surround him or anything.

Mr. S, still unaware of what was going on, started to talk to the man, even pushing him a little with his arm saying, “I was here first.  You pushed me out of the way. I was here first.”

Terrified that the robber might try and shut up Mr. S. I held my breath. Please Mr. S, quit pushing the robber. My mind is racing. If the robber hits or pushes him, Mr. S is too feeble and unstable on his feet. He will hit the floor hard, break a hip, crack his head, or even worse.  If he touches a hair on that old man, I don’t know what I would do. No, he better not hurt him.  If he lays one hand on Mr. S., I’ll have to move quickly. I’ll have to KICK HIS ASS.”

I look the robber up and down.  Hmm, he’s not much taller than I am. As a matter of fact, he’s isn’t very big.  What can I do to immobilize him if he touches Mr. S? He doesn’t know I’m right behind him. I could grab both his ankles and pull them out from under him. Yeah, that’s the ticket.  That would make his head hit the countertop stunning him, then I’ll jump on his back, sit my knee on that arm keeping him from getting whatever is in his pocket out and putting the other arm behind his back with a vicious wrist lock.  If he struggles too much, then I will have to KICK HIS ASS. Luckily the robber was so intent on the money that he continued to ignore Mr. S.  I was relieved but poised just in case.

Now the ultimate goal is to get this guy out of our branch as quickly as possible. The safety of our customers and our employees is our primary concern. It is not worth anyone getting hurt over a few hundred dollars. And who would want a robber trapped in the branch with us anyways?  We prefer the police get him outside. My concern grew again because Mr. S. kept pressing the robber.  While I was focused on Mr. S, the robber spun around to leave, running into me.

Tomorrow, Part II