What It's Like to Be Held at Gunpoint

I don't know if it's what you might think it would be like. I know it wasn't what I thought it'd be like.

As a citizen of a first world country, you know gas stations get robbed. As a gas station attendant, you know you could be robbed. As a gas station attendant working 3rd shift (10pm-6am), you know there's a ridiculously high chance that you will be robbed. What you don't expect is to actually be robbed.

I think every gas station attendant fantasizes about what they would do if they were robbed. I did, and I can tell you it's not what I imagined.

I'm not going to account the entire robbery in full detail, but I do want to tell you what it's like.

I'm stocking shelves with new product and I hear the door chime. I hear someone say, "Hey." Hell, to be honest, I don't know how he introduced the gun to my eyes, but it might as well have been "hey." I stand from my haunches and turn to greet my customer, who is wielding a small nine-millimeter pointed at me. No big deal. Wait, what? Brain turns off. Sort of. I probably got a shot of adrenaline and a racing heart, but I don't remember either of these things. I remember being shocked, but I don't remember feeling shocked. He said something to the effect of, "I'm not playin' around. Open the register." So I walk to the register an put my hands up. Still nothing. I explain that I will cooperate and open the register, and after the guy tries to find out where more money is and doesn't find any, he leaves. I don't remember being afraid. I don't remember thoughts or any sort of inner dialogue. I was a robot. Until he walked out of the door, and maybe even a little after, I was an emotionless robot. No fear, anxiety, stress, nothing. I hit the alarm, lock the door, and call 911. That's pretty much it. I'm safe and sound. The perp probably had enough to get his fix. I don't know what the hell you need $60 for so bad you have to point a gun at someone, but hey. I haven't walked in his shoes.

I can tell you I was scared more shitless when I got caught attempting to sneak into my girlfriend's window when I was 17. I'm 20 years old now and had a guy point a gun in my face. The incident when I was 17 was profoundly worse, at least as far as I recall.

Another thing is attention to detail goes out of the window. When asked what the suspect looked like, I said black, light skinned male; early 20s; 6', 150 lbs; black, flat billed hat; black T-Shirt and black shorts. Really, I was right about most of it, I think, but he was wearing a long sleeve shirt and pants. Why didn't those stick out in my memory? After playing back the tape, the cops asked if I thought the guy who came in before him was working with him. I still can't remember who came in before him.

Also, I keep thinking that I wish it wasn't a black male. I'm not racist, but I wish it had a been a white guy so people won't say, "Of course it was a black guy." I don't want this one man to make the rest of his race to look bad. I don't think all blacks rob stores. I know every race commits acts of violence, but I know the stereotype hangs heavily on black people, and I want that to stop. Anyway, those are just thoughts in my head.

Peace.

"The Road Doesn't Matter"

"The Road Doesn't Matter"

Two roads diverged in my mind's view,
And three and four and a myriad more,
And by myself, I tried not to move,
And by and by, I was pushed before
One path or another, I went through.

I know what Frost was saying in his,
But my poem has a different end,
Because life is more complex than this,
And the metaphors that we try to send
Unto this world of endless choices.

For I don't know which path leads to where,
And it doesn't matter where I stand,
I know not what lies here or there,
But life, inanimate, does demand
That I decide amongst what is fair.

When I lie down at night in my bed,
And choices and actions are laid to rest,
It's then I realize what needs to be said,
That others choose my paths and best
I know that either way I am dead.

by MFW III

I Want to Do ALL the Things

I took this a few months ago while on break at work. Turned out surprisingly well being that it is from my phone's front face 1 megapixel lens.

So I've been working on this project (don't hold your breath), and it's kind of put me in a strange state of mind. It has to do with reincarnation, sort of, only you can remember your past life. Really it's just a fantasy with the idea that you will be able to do everything you want to do. Because this life is so very short.

I was thinking to myself that there are so many things I want to do and lives I want to live, and I just won't be able to do all of them. Perhaps this is why I'm so indecisive. I want to go through the Marine Corps training, and serve in the Army as a linguist, and be a part of a shooter/spotter team. I want to be a policeman and a fireman. I was to become a transplant surgeon, neurologist, virologist, oncologist. I want to write for a newspaper, work for a publishing company, write novels, teach English to kids, teens, adults, and ESL students. I want to study chemistry, biology, physics. I want to live in England, Korea, France, Germany, Russia. I want to walk, rune, bike, and drive every acre of land and road on this Earth. I want to sail every ocean and traverse every pond, lake, and river. Alas... I have but one life to live.

I don't believe I will die and then wake up to a new body with new memories and a new set of choices to make. I believe that this is my one shot, and I've got to make the best choices now. I have to decide what will make me the happiest, because in the end that's all that truly matters.

"Francois Rabelais. He was a poet. And his last words were 'I go to seek a Great Perhaps.' That's why I'm going. So I don't have to wait until I die to start seeking a Great Perhaps." ~ John Green, Looking for Alaska.

I'm still searching. Maybe one day I'll find what I'm looking for. Or maybe I'll die, and hopefully do so knowing that I've enjoyed my life as a pursuit of who I am in this world where perspective is the only thing of importance.