Laundromat Blues

Yesterday, someone tried to rob me. I own two laundromats. My dad owned one laundromat, passed it to me, and I soon purchased another. Both are in towns around Philadelphia, in relatively nice areas. Even so, crime can be where, and when you least expect it.

Dad got robbed once, when he was older, and working by himself. In examining the robbery, we found that he had a pattern of going the same times and days. He would collect all the money in buckets, and go to the bank once a day, after he had done all he wanted in the laundry. Someone had watched and learned. I started going with him to empty the change and bill collectors every couple of days, and headed for the bank immediately. We also went on different days and times, found early in the morning best, since most lowlifes don't seem to get up early, nor are they very smart.

Early one morning, I got a call saying such and such machine wasn't working. I didn't think it over, because sometimes the machines stop working. As I drove on over, I thought about other tasks to make the trip worthwhile. I decided to clean the laundry, check whatever needed restocking, and collect money. Walked into the laundromat, only to find a bum inside with a knife. He yelled “open up them cash boxes, I want all them quarters”.

I have a concealed carry permit. My gun and holster hang on my hip in what is sometimes referred to as a “Cowboy rig “, after the cowboys in westerns. “Put the knife down, and walk away, before you are sorry you didn't. I had to give the guy a chance to walk away, and he ignored it. He lunged at me, leading with his knife, blade maybe 8 inches long. Unfortunately for him, we were about 4 feet apart, definitely not cutting distance. As he swiped at me, point first, I pulled my gun and hit him on top of the head with the butt. Down he went. I kicked the knife out of his hand, and told him to get out. Did the usual “try this again, I'll shoot you”, which I didn't really mean, but, if you don't act tough, you become Rodney Dangerfield. You know, “No Respect”. He left, and I hoped I wouldn't see him again.

The phone call I answered earlier kept me from having breakfast, so I had walked over to a nearby diner and ate, plus, I wanted to decompress from the attempted robbery. Feeling full, and hopefully over the incident, I went back to the Laundromat to complete the chores. A few hours later, the same guy tried again. The bum was somewhere nearby, watching the store. He ran in, holding another knife, yelling, “Ok, asshole, now you're going to give me my money”. Unfortunately for him, I had a full coinbox in my hand. When he got closer, I threw it at him, and hit him in the face. Let me tell you, a full coinbox weighs about ten pounds. It hurts, especially when the loose coins come out. My grandson, Chuck was in the storeroom, having come to help. He ran over to help me take care of this clown. After some fist shampooing, along with a shoe massage, we called the police, explained the problem, and turned him over. They were very familiar with him, it turns out he was the scourge of the neighborhood, went to jail about every other month, but always returned to this area. We cleaned up the coins, finished the money collection, hit the bank, and decided to finish the store cleanup and restocking we were going to do. Eventually I got a notice from the police that I would have to go to court on this matter. That is when we learned his name, Leroy Johnson. We had found out that the surrounding store owners called him “Stinky”, which is the family version of the names they called him. I took my grandson to court with me, and we both testified. The bum only made it worse for himself. Claimed he was nowhere near the place; said we attacked him without any reason. The knife with his fingerprints was more persuasive, along with our testimony.. Leroy ended up threatening everyone in court. Me, Chuck, the police, all the lawyers, even the Judge. Leroy got 8 months for the attempted robbery. He was hauled out of the courtroom, howling revenge.

* * * *

Its amazing how one person can change your perspective. Suddenly, everyone was a danger. The days of feeling safe were over. Each laundromat got an alarm system installed, as well as cameras covering every inch of the laundromat, inside and out. The cameras fed a laptop, and we never went inside a store without checking the feed.

There hadn't been any problems before Leroy, but we were gun-shy now. Luckily, there were no more robbery attempts, and I hoped he was a one time issue. Things seemed to get better over time, especially since the customers turned out to be great people. I started providing some directions to the customers, and they repaid me in cleanliness and helpful calls. There are bilingual signs advising people to “call 1800 got soap” (888 468 7627) if you have a problem, like the soap dispenser is empty, or the change machine is out of quarters. The number is a burner phone, callers were advised to leave a message, and I respond quickly. If there are customers in the store with me, I try to hand out some quarters to encourage repeat business.

Sadly, early one morning, about 8 months later, two people came out of the bathroom while we were working. We had gotten complacent, and hadn't checked the camera feeds like we should of. One was holding a gun. The other person was Stinky. “Open up those coinboxes, motherfucker, and give me my quarters”, Stinky yelled. The other guy said “Leroy, them coin changers and vending machines gots green money. They be more valuable”. Stinky looked at me and said “Yeah? You been holding out on me, whitey? I didn't answer, because the logic of him never asking about that money or giving me the chance to mention it would have been lost on him.

Chuck had been in the office getting supplies. He came out, quietly, with a baseball bat raised, and yelled “Drop the gun” as he swung for the fences. The second guy fell after being hit and his gun went off. As he fell, I drew my gun, and shot the second guy dead. Thank goodness, his shot went nowhere near Chuck. It would have been hard to explain to his mother, my daughter, if it had landed.

The police came, looked at our footage, and told Stinky he was going to get free meals and a cot for about the next ten years. Stinky hollered to the heavens “I didn't have no gun”. The police explained committing a crime in the presence of a gun gets you the same sentence as the gun holder. No one seemed to think it was funny when I said “Well, in that case, shouldn't we shoot Stinky?”