as i walked out of the studio this morning — a section of cubes inhabited by our meticulously talented and over-worked graphic designers — i walked past joe, art director extraordinarie, wearing a green bandana tied around his face, in that old west, bank robber-style.
“what’s that for?” i asked. “you robbing a bank or protecting yourself from deadly viruses?” one of our coworker’s children has H1N1, so the latter answer wouldn’t have surprised me. joe turns to me, fake guns-a-blazin’, and says, “gimme all your money.” not the most enthralling convo he and i have ever had, but it reminded me of a story about my sweet, brave grandmother, so before i could find out the reason for said bandana, i gave him the deets (that means details, mom.).
5 or so years ago, my grandmother (who still dyes her hair blond. shhh. don’t tell her you know.) was shopping at tuesday morning in the red bird area of southwest dallas — an area that’s no stranger to crime. i can’t quite remember if she was about to shop or just finished shopping, all i know is my quiet, proper, patient grandma got robbed, y’all. yeah. I KNOW! a man with a gun approached grandma and demanded she hand over all her money.
you may have the same reaction as me. SOME ASSHAT JUST POINTED A GUN AT MY GRANDMA!
my protective nature immediately took over: i must hunt down this man and commence unspeakable acts upon his nether regions. but i shouldn’t have expected anything less than what happened next.
without flinching, my dear grandma responded, “i’m sorry, but i can’t give you my cash. i have to go to the grocery store later.” no foolin’ — that’s what she said. stunned, and luckily for grandma, the gunman figured her checkbook would be a worthy exchange, so grandma handed it over.
whew. no shots were fired. grandma got to keep her blood inside her body where it belongs and mean mr. criminal won her checkbook as consolation. (she has those long business-like checks, too. they always seemed so much more regal to me as a child — $25 written in her perfect penmanship on a cray long check felt like $1 million to an 8-year-old.) but karma didn’t take long to bite this man in the arse.
not long after he seized her sizable checkbook, this idiot was later busted after his lady friend tried to forge my grandma’s name on one of those cray long checks at what was once eckerd drug store. what a dumb, dumb criminal.
so if you’re heading to a seedy neighborhood anytime soon and need a little security, my grandma’s available for hire. just see me, her booking agent.