The Blue Chip Store by Clay Tumey

Author:Clay Tumey [Tumey, Clay]
Language: eng
Format: epub, mobi
Published: 2015-10-24T16:00:00+00:00

As planned, I made it back to my truck without having broken into a complete sprint. No cops were in sight, and the helicopter overhead was not of the law enforcement variety. It was just another beautiful day in Rockwall, Texas. The remote starter on my truck served no real purpose, but it made me feel cooler knowing that my Batmobile was running and ready to flee as soon as I unlocked the door and climbed in.

The money stayed in the envelope as I drove away, but the envelope was noticeably thicker than usual. I drove to a gas station to get a Coke and some gas. While filling up my truck, I took the cash out of the envelope and put it in the console of my truck. I folded the envelope and tore it. I folded it again and tore it again. I did this as many times as it would allow before I tossed it into the trash can just next to the gas pump. It wasn’t as safe as throwing evidence confetti out the window at 65 miles per hour, but it was good enough. If someone found my envelope in that trash can and somehow traced it back to me, then they deserved to catch me.

Unlike any other bank robbery, the Rockwall bank left me doubting whether or not this was something I wanted to continue. There was nothing fun about it, and I hated that the teller’s face was engrained in my mind long after I left the bank. I wondered how the robbery might have affected her. Some tellers were more collected than others, but she seemed a little rattled by the whole thing, and that bothered me. My intent was never to hurt or even scare any individuals. I was robbing Big Business, not Jaqueline.

Ultimately, I just didn’t know how it impacted her or anyone else, and that bothered me. I’d never before felt bad about robbing banks because I felt like the tellers understood what I was doing. I felt like they knew they weren’t in any danger and that nothing I did was a threat to their personal wellbeing. I thought some might actually understand or perhaps have some level of empathy for me. Instead, I was the one feeling sorry for them. They didn’t ask to be a part of my drama, but I was the reason they were present at the scene of a crime.

Stealing money from banks was easy, and I enjoyed the game as long as I felt like it was me against an establishment. But when I thought about the actual person who was on the receiving end of my demands, it stopped being fun. The things that excited me in previous robberies were overshadowed in the Rockwall robbery because of that human connection. It was no longer just a big, wealthy bank that I was robbing. It was an actual human being named Jaqueline, and she had been victimized by some guy.

I didn’t want to be that guy anymore.

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