“All of it, all of it.”

I was struck by how beautiful yet pale the teller was in the bank inside the supermarket today. She looked like how people used to look in paintings done long ago: Pale as shit. Something else was unusual today. There was a line. There was never a line. The guy in front of me kept looking back at me. What the fuck is this asshole looking at, I said to myself. I didn’t realize at the time that he was almost surely an accomplice in a bank holdup that was in progress.

Why was the guy in the front of the guy who was giving me a weird look holding up a note to the teller? Perhaps it was his account number. I kept trying to read the teller’s face. I did not read alarm or shock. She couldn’t be being robbed, because then she would be showing more affect. The guy behind me turned around again, and I thought, perhaps he was not looking at me suspiciously, perhaps he was looking at everyone suspiciously.

The teller handed the man holding the note to her some cash.

“All of it,” he said. “All of it.” He did not sound nervous or angry, just determined.

Then the teller handed the man a big wad of cash. I did not see her count the cash. Still, no affect from the teller. Finally, I said to myself, fuck trying to read the teller by her expression. It may be business as usual to the teller, but I am sure that I am standing right behind two guys holding up a bank, and this situation is a little dangerous. It was time for me to bug the fuck out.

I started walking. As I approached the exit I saw a bagger. She had a strange look on her face. She wasn’t yet sure what was going on, but she at least suspected that there might be a bank robbery in progress. I thought about waving to the teller, to signify to her that this was definitely a hold-up. What am I crazy, I said to myself. Are you trying to get yourself or her killed? Get your ass moving out that door and get the fuck out!

In the car I said to myself, shouldn’t I call the police? It was too difficult. I had a Florida cell phone. 911 would give me the Florida State Police, not Massachusetts. There are going to be armed men with a lot of money running out of this supermarket very soon. There may be armed men from inside of the supermarket chasing after them as well. Get your ass out of this parking lot. Now!

I drove towards my physical therapy appointment. Two minutes later I saw police cars with sirens blaring, driving towards the supermarket. They were way too late. The bank robbers had probably left the bank a long time ago. I laughed. I don’t approve of threatening bank tellers with violence, but I was sort of happy for the bank robbers. There are far worse crimes. IH Budapest had robbed me of thousands of dollars, as well as my livelihood, and took three months of my life away from me to give me verbal abuse, as well as shitty instruction that lacked documentation. They did not need a gun, for they had that great pillar of Western Civilization, Cambridge University to validate their crimes. The system had robbed me my whole life. Why had I felt so compelled to inform on these bank robbers? What the fuck was wrong with me?