So back in New Orleans, I managed a store that specialized
in college/sorority paraphernalia. Since our main customers were students, summer
was a pretty slow time for us. Around the end of July beginning of August of
2005 I was at work. Just a normal day, I was working the front of the store and
our seamstress, the embroidery guy and the two owners were in the back. It had
been pretty slow that morning, and my coworker for the afternoon was a little
late for her shift.
Oh let me explain the set up of the store: Front area had a
downstairs area where the cash registers and some clothing merchandise were, and
then there was a higher level with more merchandise and a door to the back of
the building where there was storage, the office and an area where people worked
with embroidery and sewing machines.
A random man comes into the store and just stands next to
the counter, and I was standing right by the stairs and asked if he needed
help. I didn’t go down the stairs because something seemed off about him,
mostly because he clearly was not a customer. My coworker rushed in and went to
put her purse down in the back and I just stood waiting on this guy to say or
do something. She comes out the back and at that point he pulled a gun out and
says “This is a robbery”…
Now people who know me know that everything I am thinking
can be seen in my facial expressions, and when dude said he was robbing us I was
thinking “this is a dumb choice, we don’t have any cash”. The few customers we
had generally paid with daddy’s credit cards. He clearly saw my expression and
ran up to me and said “Bitch I am not playing” and proceeded to beat me about
the head with his gun. My glasses fell off when he hit me, and as he rushed
past me he stepped on them as he yelled at my coworker who was screaming. All I
could think was “this nigga just broke my glasses, I can’t afford a new pair
right now!”.
When my coworker screamed, the embroidery guy ran out to see
what was going on, then he ran back into the back and LOCKED THE DOOR. Sooooooo
now I am trapped in the front of the store with a gun man and a crying woman who is curled up in a ball on the floor. Nice. He walks back
up to me and tells me to open the registers, so I do. He grabs out the cash,
and there was maybe $170 in there. He yells “Is this it???” and I am like duh
dude, yeah. He is stuffing the cash into his pockets, his keys and lotto
tickets fall out, and I can’t help but think how much of a mess he seemed to
be. He was clearly a crack head and needed a fix because dude was bad off. But that’s
also a bad thing because that means he is desperate. Once he realized that was
all he was going to get, he left. And then the unsettling thought came into my
mind, this man could have shot me.
I go to my coworker who is crying uncontrollably and comfort
her, and then we knock on the back door so we can talk to the owners. I also
cuss the embroidery guy out for locking us out there. Asshole. The owners had
called the police so we all waited on them to show up and do their thing. After
talking to the police and giving statements I grab my stuff to leave. One of
the owners gives me $40 and tells me to go get a drink (LOL). The coworker who
was out there with me says “I am glad this happened with you and not one of the
other workers, I don’t think anyone else could have been as calm as you- I know
that is messed up but its true”.
My boyfriend and I go get daiquiris and while out the police
call and say they have picked the man up while he was buying crack (DUH) and
that I needed to come in and pick him out of a line up. We head to the police
department and the detective on the case turns out to be a friend of ours. They
show me some photos and I pick the guy out immediately. They tell us this guy
has been robbing a bunch of stores in the same area as mine, it was easy for
him due to the slow summer.
Fast forward a few weeks and Hurricane Katrina hits. We
evacuate and start a new life in Texas, I am at work a few months later and I
get a phone call from the New Orleans police. They tell me that they are trying
the robber and would like me to come out and testify in his court case. I literally laughed at
that woman. Boo, I am not coming out there for that mess. Do you know what the
hell I have been through? Anywho, that’s my story about how I got pistol
whipped. That mess hurts like hell. I had bruising down to the bone on my
temple and a big cut. Now when I see this happen to people on movies or hear
about it on the news I get angry.
Fin.
