There is a terrible noise in the back room; it seems like they’re fighting. I quickly turn my head and come face to face with a hooded man, who signals for me to crouch down.
“Lie on the floor! Come on, everyone, get down!”
It had only been ten minutes since we closed the restaurant. I glanced at the floor; it was covered in papers and looked really dirty. We didn’t have time to sweep. I was like, absolutely not, I won’t lie down there, not even as a joke. In the back room, there was another slightly taller man holding a sawed-off shotgun. And that one didn’t seem like a toy at all.
I was working the late-night shift on a Saturday at the McDonald’s restaurant in a neighborhood on the outskirts of Malaga. The next day, I was starting the early shift again. I had so little time left to sleep, and now this. How annoying!
That was the fourth robbery in the last six months. One of them happened at night when the restaurant was closed. But the other two happened while I was working. Why pick me? I thought.
The first one was like a joke, in plain sight. Four people dressed as pirates with fake beards and black wigs entered with toy guns. No, it wasn’t Halloween, and we weren’t anywhere near that time of year. The poor quality of the plastic was obvious.
I burst into laughter, but when I turned to comment to my coworker next to me, I realized I was the only one laughing. My friend was crying, so I hugged her, and we waited while the manager gave them all the money from the cash register.
The second time was a quick robbery that we barely noticed. They sneaked in from behind, grabbed whatever they could, and made a hasty escape. We only saw them as they were running away.
And now, this was the fourth time. I was losing my mind, understandably.
At that time, I was studying engineering at the University of Malaga during the week, and I worked part-time on Fridays, Saturdays, and Sundays to make a living. I was very busy and focused on what I wanted to achieve in life.
I was done dealing with robberies. I refused that here and now.
The man in front of me was a head shorter than I was. He was clearly thinner. What could he do to me if I grabbed him as a hostage? But with what? There were only plastic knives next to me to go with the Caesar salad… nothing sharper.
Well, then, I’ll try to memorize everything about him. I checked him out from head to toe, and it seemed like he caught my gaze. He lunged at me and told his partner, “She’s not getting it. She doesn’t obey.”
The other one approached one of my coworkers, a tall and strong guy studying to become a police officer, and pointed the sawed-off shotgun at him. “Don’t even think about doing anything weird. And you lie down right now. You don’t want a colleague to get hurt, do you?”
I hadn’t thought about that. What if, in my attempt to stop these guys, they really hurt someone? I didn’t think they were capable of it. I don’t know why I didn’t believe it. We were always a group of five when we closed up. Five against three.
I weighed the options and decided to crouch down to keep everyone safe. That led to another issue: the disgusting floor. I grabbed a large napkin from the side and put it in front of me, kneeling on it. But I couldn’t imagine lying down completely. Disgusting!
While I was pondering the situation, the hooded man had already moved on to his own business. He was with the manager, emptying the cash register.
When I lifted my head to see if he still wanted me to lie down, he was leaving with the other guy, running towards the back room where they had entered. Phew… I almost ruined all my clothes!
I got up and saw a coworker having a panic attack. I handed her one of those “take-away” paper bags and gave her a big hug so she could lean on me and not collapse.
The police had just rung the bell and started asking us questions. I was calmly explaining, helping another coworker. And then, out of nowhere, the other manager dropped a bombshell and claimed that they had forcefully pointed a gun at me.
“Not me, the one with the sawed-off shotgun was aiming at Daniel, not me,” I tried to clarify.
“I’m talking about the short one. He was pointing a gun at you the whole time,” she told me.
“No way, I would have seen that!” I replied.
Everyone insisted he really had a gun pointed inches from my face. What was I even thinking? Another colleague said it’s better not to be so brave. While everyone talked about what happened, I was still trying to remember that darn gun. I couldn’t remember seeing it at all.
Soon, the restaurant owners arrived and unlocked the camera footage. The recording showed the shorter man pointing a gun at me as in the movies, and I didn’t flinch. Oh, my goodness! I must have been out of my mind! Did my mind safeguard me, erasing the disturbing image that could have made me tremble?
The next day, it was my turn to open the restaurant. I had arrived home at two in the morning and was starting at nine. I was beyond exhausted, to the point where even standing felt like a Herculean task. But something else was happening… a chilly breeze brushed against my skin.
While I was cleaning and preparing things, I heard a noise behind me, and my whole body went on alert. My hair stood on end, and I felt a shiver run down my spine. I felt a gentle touch on my shoulder, and a coworker’s voice filled with concern asked if I was feeling okay because I looked pale like a ghost.
I felt dizzy and nauseous. Maybe I had eaten something spoiled. Suddenly, the noise level skyrocketed, making every sound seem deafeningly loud. There was a green backyard full of trees. Each soft rustle of their leaves made my senses heighten. I felt dumb and unwell, with a lingering heaviness in my body, as if I were on the verge of falling sick.
They sent me home in a taxi.
My husband was surprised to see me. We went to the park next door to clear my head, but things got worse. Every few steps, I would glance over my shoulder, convinced that there was someone trailing behind me. Every sound startled me, and everything gave me a sort of paralyzing shock and intense fear.
What was I afraid of? Maybe something I wanted to erase from my mind, like a haunting image. Fear of what I really saw in front of me, despite not remembering it until today?
I still can’t understand how I could have missed a gun pointed at me. Sometimes I think that brave people who have faced the “bad guys” in situations like that might have experienced the same effect. A shock that makes you unable to see what you’re up against. A kind of protection that later surfaces. I spent a week crying and dealing with anxiety, but then it passed, and it all became just a chilly story.
A story that I still can’t explain to this day.
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