I was thinking back on a few of my life events recently. I think the odds of me ever being in a store that is robbed are extremely low! Wow. Great, no reason to fear that.
Also… and I realize very few of you can say this but I’m one of the fortunate few! – The chance that I will ever live in a house that an airplane crashes into are basically zero.
Maybe I’ll cancel my life insurance!
T-Mobile Gets Robbed
A few weeks ago I was in a T-Mobile store. It is a small one, sort of like a tiny mobile home kiosk store in the parking lot of a strip mall. A guy walked in with big cutters, snipped the security cable of their most expensive phone on display (the HTC One S which I lust after far more than I should), grabbed it, and then ran out of the store with the clerks going, “uh… hey… HEY… WAIT A SECOND!!!” but a lot of good that did.
(Fortunately, the guy didn’t have, or at least he didn’t use a gun; therefore, I didn’t have to either.)
To the clerk’s credit, of course one never expects that sort of thing really. We always try to be prepared, but there is always that, “Oh, it’s a joke,” or “I’m not really seeing this” moment of hesitation where you expect some prank show to barge in the door with cameras clapping and telling all of us how many thousands of dollars we’ll each receive if we sign waivers that allow them put the whole show on TV.
No cameras came. Ashton Kutcher didn’t burst in lifting us off our feet and mocking us for how well he punk’d us. So after that 2-second hesitation and shock, we all realized exactly what had happened.
So, naturally, I run after him. As I exit the store the clerk yells at me, “No, don’t go after him!” which I ignore. I grudgingly admit, however, that his advice was good.
But I wasn’t planning to tackle the thief, that’s for sure. I just wanted to see what car he jumped in, or see the direction he was going. Amazingly, he was fast as a cheetah. I saw just a glimpse of his back as he turned a corner at the far end of the strip center. There was no way to follow this athlete by foot and if I jumped in my truck, he surely would already be hidden in the neighborhood or away in a car he had waiting.
Rob Them Twice, Shame On You
The reason I tell this story is it’s similar to what happened about 15 years ago when Jayne and I were eating dinner at an Italian restaurant in Tulsa. It is called Ti Amo’s.
(This was before muslims bought the formerly-Italian restaurant. We haven’t been back.)
We were sitting right next to the bar area. It was not really an open bar, but they were set up to have it open. As it was, it was where the
servers waitresses would prepare the tea, coffee, water, and I suppose alcohol if someone eating ordered it.
Side Note About Stewardesses and Waitresses:
Yea, I’ll get back to the story, but while I’m on the subject:
Why is it that perfectly good terms, used for decades without a glitch, like waitress, mailman, and stewardess are considered curse words these days?
I refuse to say server, postal carrier, or (ugh!) flight attendant! If anything, Waitress in the Sky is the best term for a lady who serves food and beverages on an airplane.
And speaking of Waitresses in the Sky, did you know that several years ago they were all required to be single? What a fantastic job for a single girl! She could work a couple of years seeing the world, meet a handsome business passenger and fall in love, he marries her and rescues her from the workforce, and she then gets to stay home and be a homemaker and his help meet. What a great concept!
But the left, see, the left despises women. They want to see women fail at every turn which is why they have rigged the world to be so anti-women. The left screams that women should be just like men. Because only then, according to the left, can women be fulfilled.
Which of course is the opposite of reality. But destruction is the way of the left, not productivity. Not the incredibly high female esteem built by correct and proper roles. The left desires most: the destruction of the lady.
Back To That Italian Restaurant – In a Sec
Yea, I’ll get back to my story. But first another word from your host.
There Are No Italian Restaurants! Not Statistically
As with virtually all “Italian restaurants” in America, this was an American restaurant that served pasta. So I want to be clear that I always use the term “Italian restaurant” loosely when discussing places to eat in the USA.
Jayne and I have spent a grand total of years in Italy over our long, intensive, incredible nine trips there, and we have searched high and low all across the United States searching for a true Italian restaurant. One is in San Francisco, The Steps of Rome, and one is in Boston. Actually, it’s just a coffee bar in Boston, Bar di Sport.
And given a normalized standard deviation, those two are the only ones in America.
So statistically, and statistics comprise the focus of this whole article, the chance that an American restaurant serves authentic Italian food is zero. That is a mathematical certainty.
That is statistics.
Or, as they often say here in Oklahoma, that is satistics.
Back To That Italian Restaurant – For Sure This Time I Think
So, you thought I’d forgotten where I was, right?
To repeat so you can finally catch up (sometimes you can really lag behind when I’m talking to you):
We were sitting right next to the bar area. It was not really an open bar, but they were set up to have it open. As it was, it was where the waitresses would prepare the tea, coffee, water, and I suppose alcohol if someone eating ordered it.
Also, the cash register was there at this bar area where the waitresses rang up the checks and such.
We were eating, minding our own business, when we heard a somewhat surpised, “What’s going on???” from the waitress behind the bar. We turned and a big guy was leaning over reaching into the cash register she had opened and grabbed a wad of bills from the register and then bolted out of the place. This all happened two feet from my chair.
As he races out the door, of course we all go through that two-second phase of, “That couldn’t be a robbery so I wonder what’s going on?” before we realized it was a robbery.
Looking back, I wish I’d tripped the guy but there are a few reasons why I didn’t:
- I was younger and less brave than I am now.
- I was younger and less foolish than I am now.
- He truly was out the door before we realized what had happened.
What Are the Odds I Ask?
So my point of all this is this: I’ve now been in two places where a live, active robbery took place right next to me.
Sure, as the government schools graduate more and more thugs who cannot read their own diplomas, robberies certainly increase over time. But still, I figure the chance of being somewhere that is going to be robbed is slim. I figure that for me, I am fortunate, because the chance to be somewhere a third time where an active, live robbery takes place is virtually zero.
I’ve done my time, I can now rest easy. For those of you who haven’t twice been in places that were robbed, I’m sure glad I’m not you!
Coming In for a Landing
In the first house I remember, the one my family lived in for most of the first dozen or so years of my life, before we moved there a plane had crashed into the corner of the house!
Isn’t that amazing? Right in the middle of town. It was a small prop airplane of some kind. And that whole corner had been taken out by the plane. They got it all cleaned up, and rebuilt the house.
Keep in mind, this was back before people learned if they don’t work hard the government will take care of them so the work was done right. It was difficult to see the seams and the home did seem structurally fine. I’ve driven by there lots of times since and it’s still standing just firm after all these years.
But my point… and you who are INTJ’s have probably figured out where I’m headed… my point is I think for the rest of my life I can live in any home I want to live in, even those 3 feet off a major airport runway if I so choose, and the odds of an airplane crashing into my house are astronomically low.
Note: Full disclosure. For those mathematicians out there, yea, I do understand numbers and odds and statistics. I realize that past occurrences do not change current odds of an event happening. But I also know that probably hardly any home in the history of aviation has ever been crashed into twice.
(That is, if you don’t count Tony Stark’s home/headquarters or Professor Xavier’s mansion.
But there are some homes, especially if you count all the homes around the world, that have had planes fly into them once. As mine was. But most never have had that happen. And the odds of it ever happening twice are slimmer than a Chocolate-Covered Cheesecake’s chance of survival on a plate in front of Oprah Winfrey.
So I figure, it’s all good for me, myself, and I.
Here’s My Conclusion
Actually, I have no conclusion.
You get the point.
Maybe I should go to Vegas?
(For those Christians reading this who don’t believe in luck, notice I never used that word anywhere in this article. I have it on Good authority that Christians should believe in chance however. I’ll leave the reference to that as an exercise to the reader.)