personal narrative | Reflections From the Heart

Ever wake up expecting an ordinary day, with everything going according to plan? Yeah, me too. But that workday was anything but ordinary …

After several months of working the drive-thru window at my new banking job in the 1990s, I looked forward to working the inside lobby. I retrieved my cash box and set up my drawer as I did on any other day, except that I was stationed alongside my manager and friend, Judy, who had fifteen years of experience in the industry. Once all bank tellers were set up with their cash drawers and supplies, our security guard, Victor, unlocked the front doors and opened for business. Because it was the beginning of the week, I felt confident the day would go by fairly smoothly.

After assisting a couple of customers with their transactions, I was startled by a commotion to my far left. I glanced over just in time to see a masked man come up behind Victor and shove him against the counter. Before Victor could react, the masked man snatched the gun from Victor’s holster. It was like a surreal scene from a horror flick, as he pressed the gun against Victor’s spine and ordered him not to move or turn around. Before I could process what was happening, another gunman barreled past me from my right, a stocking pulled over his face, shouting obscenities and threatening to “pop” anyone who moved!

Another hooded gunman appeared, waving his rifle, shoving customers and employees along the wall, and yelling at them to drop down and not move. Staring in disbelief and shock, as if frozen in time, the tellers behind the counters stood with their hands in the air. As thoughts reeled in my mind, I hardly noticed that my hand was slowly inching out, attempting to set off a silent alarm hidden under the counter, inches from me. Out of nowhere, one of the gunmen jumped on top of my counter, glaring, his gun pointed at me. He growled, “You! Down, now. Or I’ll pop you!”

I was going to faint on the spot at best or be shot to smithereens at worst. Thank the good Lord, I still had some control of my faculties and complied, dropping to my knees with my head down, all the while praying. Judy was not so lucky.

The gunman on my counter began ordering her to climb over the counter and go into the vault with him. One of the other gunmen already held Victor and the commercial teller with his gun pointed in their faces while they waited for the vault to be unlocked. He became impatient with Judy and proceeded to pull on her arm, attempting to drag her up and over the counter. As she struggled to raise her leg to climb, she stumbled back. He jumped down, cursing her for moving slowly and pistol-whipped her. He proceeded to push her toward the vault with the others. (Yes, my head was up and I was peeking.) Once the vault was unlocked, one could only imagine what was taking place inside.

One of the gunmen stood by the front door, holding everyone at bay, spewing profanities and waving his gun back and forth. After what seemed like an eternity, the two gunmen ran out from the vault, tossing money bags to their partner by the exit. They ordered everyone to stay down as they scurried out the front door. After the ruckus, we began to stir and rise from our positions. Peering out the windows, we noticed the police were already on the scene (an alarm had indeed gone off), and they were in hot pursuit of the bank robbers, who apparently had jumped into a getaway car. Instantly, I thought of Judy and the rest who had gone into the vault. They were still inside! Were they hurt? Still alive? I shuddered to think.

As I quickly approached the vault, I heard sobbing, and my heart dropped! All three employees were lying face down on the ground. But the sight of Judy, face down with blood glistening from a gash on her forehead, stunned me. A sob escaped me as I called her name. I was relieved to discover that when I called out, they all responded by sitting up. They were simply waiting for one of us from the outside to come and get them. Upon examining Judy’s head, we knew her outer wounds would heal. But one never knows about the turmoil that goes on inside.

We hugged one another and let the tears flow freely.

After the police had interviewed everyone, we were allowed to call family members to come and pick us up. When my husband came for me, I was still trembling and immediately crumpled into the safety of his arms. I couldn’t wait to leave, go home, and hug my kids.

Recovery from trauma is a process. Most of us were shaken up for quite some time after that ordeal and needed counseling. Some even quit their banking jobs to seek employment elsewhere. As for me, that moment in time would forever be etched in my memory.

Days after the incident, while on my lunch break at a fast-food chicken joint, an outraged customer began verbally attacking one of the employees over an incorrect order. My heart was pounding out of my chest, and my nerves felt like pins and needles. I left my food and hurried out the door.

Reflecting on it all, I realize you can be “busy as usual” with the mundane things in life, and at a moment’s notice your world can turn upside down.

Judy and I are still friends, more than thirty years after that day. Although she lives in Florida, she visits Texas about once a year, and we make time to catch up. Seeing her again this fall reminds me of what we went through that day and how grateful I am that our friendship has lasted long after we left our banking days.

Looking back, I’m thankful we made it through that frightening experience. I’m also reminded of how we sometimes discover strength we didn’t know we had, and how much the people who share those difficult moments with us can mean.