My Job at the Bank

Advice is free; ignoring it can cost plenty

I really have to start listening to my wife.

The bank was the biggest job ever, for me. First Union Saving and Trust. Weird name, but it's a job.

I got to the bank early. That's what I've always been told: show up early to your job. I arrived at the employee entrance and checked my watch. It was 6:15; the bank opened at 8:00, so I would have plenty of time. I pulled out a cigarette to calm my nerves and opened my bag to make sure I was ready. I turned my collar to the chilly early morning air and flicked the butt into the wind.

I looked up from my bag and saw a car idling in front of the building. Not good. I decided nervously I didn't need to be here right now; I could start tomorrow. As these thoughts flashed through my mind, the ashes from the cigarette butt blew back, right into my eye.

I screamed as the hot, acidic tobacco ash got past my eyelashes. It felt like my eyeball was being scalded from inside my head! As I moaned and danced around like a witch doctor, the driver of the car noticed me and pulled up to where I was standing.

I couldn't go anywhere; I was trapped, almost blinded by the pain. But I could see the red and blue lights on the car; I could see the fellow looking through my bag of burglar's tools; and I could see the handcuffs before he pulled my wrists behind me.

Now I've got plenty of time to sit, look at the desk sergeant, and think about what I should have done.

I should have listened when my wife kissed me this morning and offered a little practical advice: "Don't do anything stupid."

(Word Count: 300)