It was first suggested that I write this out several weeks ago, and I seem to keep finding ways to not finish this.
I have a problem putting my thoughts on myself down in written form, and this particular event seems to be worse than most.
I've never actually written down these events before, though I have talked about them occasionally. I am going to do my very best to not embellish the events or leave anything important out.
Part of this is pretty embarrassing, but I'll be honest there too.
Many of you may not have heard about this before, and that's partly because I'm not the most fond of thinking about it. Those days were some of the least pleasant that I've ever had for a number of different reasons.
Background:
This happened in the Summer of 2005. I was working as a Shift Supervisor for the Burger King on East North Street. That meant that I was the closing manager most nights of the week.
Several weeks before the night in question, I had taken the Saturday afternoon deposit to the bank (taking the witness that the company requires for all deposits), dropped it into the night drop box, and thought that was that. I was shocked to discover that when the bank processed the deposits, mine was nowhere to be found.
Of course, an investigation was launched. Every nook and cranny of the bank was searched and the employees were questioned, and nothing came up. I was questioned about it and so was the witness I took with me.
Company policy with Burger King was very clear: as soon as something like that happens, the manager involved is supposed to be placed under suspension. It's a good security measure, so that the same person can't steal a deposit and made additional trouble afterward.
That's where the first of God's blessings to me happened. I had a brand new Restaurant Manager who had barely worked one or two shifts with me, and a new District Supervisor that I had only met once or twice. Both of those people, with only the most basic knowledge of me, took pity on a college student paying his way and went to bat for my character all the way up to the Regional Vice President. They gave their personal assurance that I was not responsible for the loss and were willing to vouch for me. Their word, along with the support of the Regional HR Representative (whose office had previously been in the store where I worked, and he was fond of me) prevailed, and I was allowed to continue working. So, despite the investigation and company policy, I had no interruption in my pay.
All of the time during the investigation I had a little nagging doubt in my mind.
I always followed the same procedure while making the deposit drop. I would open the night drop box, check to make sure that there was nothing in the way to prevent the deposit from going in, drop in the sealed deposit bag, close the door completely to work the mechanism, and finally reopen the door to confirm that the deposit went all the way down.
For the life of me I was unable to remember if I had taken the last step that day. I knew that I had done nothing intentional to cause the loss of the deposit, but my conscience bothered me that I might have not been prudent enough to keep someone from finding the deposit stuck in the box and taking it.
So, when that Summer night came along, I was already in a very difficult spot. I knew that I had an upcoming visit to the police for a polygraph, and that the investigation was ongoing. I had been told early that afternoon that I would soon be having a conversation with a police investigator.
No one knew how quickly that would happen.
The Robbery:
It had been a very slow Saturday night, and the Assistant Manager had stuck around, though she let me run the shift. It was the first night closing for the other woman that had been there with us, and she had a young daughter that she wanted to get home to; so we had allowed her to leave shortly after we closed and the doors were locked. That left just the two of us there to finish working.
We had decided to take care of the administrative work first and do the cleaning later, since the machinery had to cool anyway. Both of us were standing in the office. I was counting the cash and she was taking care of other paperwork. It was about 12:40 AM.
I had worked for several years in that store, so I knew what every sound that could happen in that building was. I looked up from counting the money when I heard the door on the far side of the kitchen open (the closer one was always locked); knowing that no one else was there with us.
I completely froze up as I watched the two men in hooded sweatshirts and masks run down the aisle on the other side of the kitchen, round the broiler (one of them running into the scalding hot broiler hard enough to knock off the machinery shields on the sides), and come to the open area at the back of the kitchen - directly in front of the office.
The two men came to a stop less than ten feet away from the door of the office, and pointed their two semi-automatic pistols directly at the person standing in the door looking at them - which would be me.
Some say that time slows down when you're faced with life or death situations, and I can tell you it does for me. Both in this and the time I almost hydroplaned into Furman's gas main I was able to think and note some things about the situation, but nothing useful. I had time to look them in the eyes and to note the way that their weapons reminded me of my dad's .45 (not that I had ever looked down the barrel of said weapon). The muzzle at the end of a gun barrel looks pretty big when it's aimed at you. I also couldn't help but notice the way that both of them were wearing gloves.
Then one of them said something that to my mind sounded like "put your hands up."
For the women reading this (or for those guys that just don't think this way), I need to explain something.
The average guy today has watched a decent number of action movies and/or played games simulating some form of action. It is natural for us, at some point, to envision what we would do if ever faced with a crisis situation. Most of us envision "going Rambo" and finding some crazy and awesome way of subduing the armed men.
I didn't think at all.
I simply acted, and slammed the office door in their faces.
That decision was exactly the wrong thing to do.
I was backed into a tiny office, with no other way out, with my female coworker directly behind me, around a thousand dollars in cash plainly visible on the desk next to me, surrounded by windows that left every angle of the office visible, and the only thing between them and me was a cheap plywood door that a wimp like me could easily kick down with a "window" in it of such cheap plastic that was so ill-fitted that anyone could simply have pushed and it would have popped out.
Burger King policy and common sense both agree that in such a situation there is no question at all about what the employees should do. Give the money to the robbers with a smile, and maybe even offer to make them a burger to keep them happy. The money is never worth the life of a single person.
I knew all of that, but I wasn't thinking at all.
That's where the real miracle of all of those months happened.
As the police would later tell me, there is no reason for what happened next to occur. Those men were perfectly prepared for that robbery. They had disguises that made identifying them impossible. They had the forethought to wear gloves and their weapons were certainly real. Men that were so prepared would have made sure their weapons were loaded, and their preparations would have made them mentally prepared to complete the things needed for the robbery, including shooting someone.
The two men looked at each other, and one simply said; "Let's go." With that they both ran for the closer kitchen door, went through into the lobby, and left our sight.
That's when I started to think.
I realized that I was standing fully upright in the open (directly in front of the cheap window), so I crouched beside the assistant manager on the floor. Then I grabbed the phone and dialed 911.
Prior to that point, fear or anxiety never even entered my mind, but it certainly did then. I know that I was shaking uncontrollably and I'm not sure how easy it was for the emergency operator to understand me.
It was terrifying to step outside of the office, even when the operator told me that the police had arrived. I told my coworker to stay in the office and to close the door behind me while I checked to see if it was safe. I walked up to the front counter and looked for any sign of anyone, but there was no one to be seen. No robbers and no police. I was so scared that I actually went back to the office to call 911 again, thinking that the officers had gone to the wrong place.
After she confirmed that they were indeed there, I walked out again, and there have been few sights in my life as good as the flashlight that shined on me from the darkness outside. I called my coworker to come out with me and we went out the door to find several armed officers hidden perfectly to protect us.
The Aftermath:
That night was one of the longest of my life. We had to stay, sitting on the curb, while the police swept the store. Then came the questioning and the CSI worker who checked for any evidence. The investigators asked us to repeat our story several times, because of how very wrong the whole chain of events sounded.
During that time I made a call on my coworker's cellphone to my parents' house and told my dad that something had happened. I'm sure that any time he gets a call from me that starts "I'm fine," he knows that something bad is going on.
When I finally got home around 2:30 AM, my dad was sitting in his rocking chair in the den waiting for me, and I sat on the floor and came apart as I told him what had happened. I will never forget the way that his calm and quiet response and his prayer with me helped pull me back together after that. I actually managed to get a few hours of sleep before getting up for church that morning.
I still have times at night where I hear a sound and it makes me think of that kitchen door, and I tense up. It's gotten a lot less common now, but it's there.
It certainly changed my view on mortality and the brevity of life. When you look at death from that distance, it's hard to pretend that you've got forever. Every day of life since then has been a gift from God to me.
I made it my task for every new manager that I talked to after that point (especially the guys) to tell them that if they ever ended up in a similar place, they needed to do what the robbers say. I not only put myself at risk, but my coworker too.
I was back at work later that week and life went on. The investigation continued. I took my polygraph (which is an unpleasant and disconcerting circumstance any time) and passed.
To the best of my knowledge, the attempted robbers were never caught. Shortly thereafter there was a string of similar robberies at most of the Burger Kings and Hardees in the Upstate, most of which were successful and in one of them several employees were killed. I have no idea if the crimes were connected, though the timing was coincidental. The group responsible for those robberies were caught.
The great ending to this story is was one that I didn't expect.
After the investigation of the missing deposit concluded, there were no leads. So, the case was just left with no one blamed. I still felt in my mind that I might have been partially responsible, since I still couldn't remember if I had properly done my check at the end.
However, almost six months later to the day, the deposit bag mysteriously reappeared (tamper-proof, signed in three separate places by me, and with the exact amount of money) in the bank. It was a load off of my mind and my heart.
So... There you have the whole unflattering truth about what happened that night.
I'm alive today despite myself, but because of the goodness of God.
