It was, to say the least, a very unpleasant experience.
Thought about adding a few cool pics along the line for easier reading.



All of the things I never really bothered understanding or were borderline annoying to me were finally laid upon me. Hours and hours of tedious interrogation following the unfortunate event, explaining the same story to all the officials, officers, every single guy who pops up at the crime scene and wears some kind of a uniform.



Just a week ago, a lady reported that someone tried to rob her - someone tried to snatch her purse but failed at doing so, there was a car waiting for him. I kindly asked if she could describe the car. I mean, it's not rocket science, right? You saw a god damn car, what was it? Was it a sports car, a wagon, a fucking 4x4 SUV, a city econobox, come on you must have at least seen the shape. She uttered in disgust that it was white-ish, maybe a VW, didn't know anything else. Maybe it wasn't white-ish, she promptly added.
I wanted to call the police but decide to drop it because I felt like a moron calling them in and saying that something could have happened but no one saw anything.



Fast forward a week, I'm doing a night shift at the reception, everything is going as planned, had to compile a bunch of reports, make sure all the prices and services offered to guests are correctly filled out, check reservations and just generally keep an eye on things, help people out in case someone needs anything. There was this lenghty weekly report that I had to write up and it takes quite a bit of time. I routinely grabbed a chair and sat behind the desk, started filling out the forms, eyes were burning from those huge excell cells. Just an ordinary night, no discrepancies.




It's 4:30am, I'm blasting some mellow jazz and focusing on work when I hear footsteps clacking behind my back - I immediately sit up, fix my tie and before I could start talking and greeting, someone, who I previously thought was a hotel guest, was pointing a gun at me. Two armed goons are walking towards me. I will never deny being frightened at that point. Looking at the gun muzzle is like staring into eternity, it's absolutely terrifying when its held against you by masked unknown people.



There's something eerie about a loaded gun being pointed at you. It's almost impossible to describe it. Just think of it as being unwillingly thrown into a cold lake on a hot summer day, your normal bodily functions just stop working properly. It all happens very fast, there's an insane amount of adrenaline rushing through your veins, and yet - all you're able to do is to stare blankly like a deer in the headlights and give in. At that point in time, you simply don't think about doing something radical, something almost heroic. Something you'd be proud of in the aftermath. You simply do as you're told, brain is shut off and tries to cope with the situation, when someone shouts at you and demands money, you give him money, no questions asked. You don't try to trick them.



As you stand there helpless, not knowing if the attackers are equally frightened and trigger happy, you just wish for this to be over. Take whatever the hell you want and leave me alone. Their voices echo through your head during the day. "Don't fucking move", "where's the god damn safe", "we know exactly who you are and where you live". You know it wasn't a personal attack and that it was a bluff, yet hearing those words just doesn't keep your mind at ease. They backed away with the cash and ordered me not to call anyone, I hesitated at first but ringed the cops shortly after.



Cops came in, dressed in hefty kevlar armors, asked me if I'm ok, told me to step out of the crime scene so I don't tamper with potential evidence. You'd think this is where the story wraps up, but there was a total mess and hours upon hours of exhausting interrogation. Bringing up my first point, about how my views changed - this is where it really kicks in.
"What were they wearing?" asked the first cop on the scene. I... I don't know. I don't remember.
Well then try to remember, at least tell us what do you see when you think about the incident.



My memory. Was. Blank. Completely blank. I couldn't think of a single thing from the event that took place just minutes before the cops arrived. They asked me how tall they were. I said about ~6.2 (190cm). The officer wrote down the number 180. I tried my best to describe them, and they showed me the camera recordings. Everything I said was wrong. They asked me about my birth date and it took me a few seconds before remembering it. I later asked why he wrote down 180, when I clearly stated 190. Staring at his notebook and sketching something on it, he mumbled "fear has big eyes".



I felt like an idiot. Same guy who accused the lady of being dumb for not remembering a damn car. I couldn't even point out if they were wearing gloves, hats or hoodies. I'm taking a day off or two, boss wants me to stay at home and rest for a while, at least until I calm my mind. I'm not even sure if I want them to catch the thieves, they were obviously young immigrants, complete amateurs aiming to make it big. Even their jerky movement and obviously scattered thoughts point at unorganized, hasty decisions. It's so easy to talk about what you could have or should have done before it begins.
Well I ain't taking shit from no bandits, they ain't going to mess around on MY turf. Well guess again, because once they do attack, you change your mind insanely fast. I'm doing fine I think, tried to catch some sleep but it was too hot, or maybe I'm just still a bit stressed out.



When my boss arrived I tried to play it cool, tried to make fun of the whole situation - he wasn't worried about money lost since we don't keep much cash at the reception anyway, those scumbags got away with a few bad monthly salaries. He knew that I was just pretending to be fine, or was I? Sure it's a stressful event, but I'm so apathetic, emotionless and without any will for the past few months. Maybe this incident genuinely hasn't "traumatized" me as much as some people claim it did. On a bigger scale, it's not really frontpage news, it was barely mentioned in local news. We talked about future precautions, locking all side doors, placing more cameras around the hotel and so on.



Rode to the police station to once again (for the 10th time no less) help compile the record, the same questions all over again about their appearance, how the gun looked, what exactly did they do when they stepped in and so forth. Overall I think I'm one experience richer, not really sure if I feel satisfied with it or not. It's just a big mess and when you see these chaps on the TV looking all desperate with an almost shell-shocked expression on their face you can't really imagine being in their shoes. I was told by the owners and my boss that I did the right thing, my rational side is agreeing with them, my emotional side just wants a closure.



For now, I just think I'll chill a bit, listen to music that I so dearly missed, grab some iced coffee and take a good night's sleep and get ready for tomorrow's work.
Cheers.