A Christmas Day Heist

“A grande whole milk latte and all the money in the cash register,” Bernie said to the cashier, while pointing the gun at the barista, “or the barista dies.”

People usually value other people’s lives more than their own, or at least they should. The age twenties something cashier’s face was twitching. It was clear he had never been in a robbery before. Calgary is a safe city, or at least it was before the people from Toronto started showing up.

“Is this for real? Are you actually robbing the store?” the cashier said.

“Does this gun look real to you?” Bernie allowed the cashier to have a good look at the cold, hard steel of the Glock G19. The cashier raised his hands.

It felt good to watch other people do as they were told for a change.

Behind Bernie, a woman’s voice said, “That’s not a good decision.”

“And why not?” Bernie sneered.

“Full fat milk. You should choose skim or soy.”

Bernie glanced around and saw a young woman with lightly bleached hair, that new style that gives women a zombie-like appearance. She was wearing a t-shirt with a cartoon figure on it. Definitely from Toronto, the weird ones are. Or Vancouver.

“I didn’t ask your opinion.”

The cashier behind the register said, “The grande full-fat latte comes to $7.99.”

Bernie pulled out a credit card, an action born out of habit, then put it back away. The robbery was not going the right way at all.

“You! Are going to give me at least $500,” Bernie demanded to the cashier.

The girl with the bleached hair began talking over her shoulder again, “I’d like a half skinny flat white with a shot of hazelnut, using my Starbucks bonus points.”

Firing a bullet into the ceiling would have made this robbery easier.

**

Calgary Police Interview of Suspect Bernie Schultz by Officer Ringgenberg.

OR: In your own words, explain to me what happened earlier today.

BS: I usually drink coffee at Tim Hortons. So, I thought it would be better to rob a Starbucks. 

Calgary is a big city, but this is Canada, people know each other. 

At Tim Horton’s no one ever gives feedback on what drink I'm ordering. Who let all the Starbucks open in Calgary anyway? It must have been those arseholes from Toronto. The same Torontonian arseholes who voted for Trudeau.

How did I get here? One day I was the site administrator of the biggest oil project in Alberta, the next day, global warming and electric vehicles means I've lost my job.

Then I was dragged from my home by government thugs–they wore different uniforms than you, but were in uniform–from my home. My brother, who helped me pack my things, said I needed to get used to change. This is 2023, he said. One door closes, and another door opens, he says. My brother has a big mouth.

At my new place in the sticks close to the forest, the fires worry me. I watch the news on CBC every night and have chats with my neighbor Ted about the fires. They didn’t happen before. Not before Trudeau took over.

Anyways Ted says we need to fight the system. He said if we could get $500 dollars together we can drive to the Yukon and live in an abandoned cabin over the summer and get away from the lunatics in Calgary–

OR: What’s Ted’s last name?

BS:  Bennett. Two n’s and two t’s.

So back to the story, since Trudeau took over, everything is about pointing out other people’s mistakes. People are always telling me what words I’m not supposed to say anymore.

Well, thank god, some things stay the same. Once a week, me and Ted walk to the Tim Hortons nearby. 

Even Timmies didn’t have a Christmas tree this year. But that's not going to stop Bernie from having the spirit of Christmas.

At that other place, people just wouldn’t listen to a woman with a gun. I wanted to shoot a bullet into the ceiling to stop them all yammering. And then you all came in–

OR:

Thank you, Bernie. That’s all we need today. We’re still collecting evidence.

**

“Before I start shooting, there’s something I’d like to say,” Bernie announced. “I hope you have a Merry Christmas!” She turned from the cashier to the barista. “And you, too. Merry Christmas.” 

“Ma’am, here’s your latte, and have a Merry Christmas!” the cashier said. Then he added, “I don’t usually say that,” and looked at the other people listening in the store. They had stopped talking to each other and were paying attention closely, in the way every high school teacher dreams of.

Bernie gave everyone present a stern look, one that showed she meant business: Her arm was getting tired, she forgot how heavy guns were:

The cashier had been holding his hands up for quite a while and was getting tired, too.

“Sorry ma’am. I can’t give you all the money in the cash register,” he said slowly and calmly, “because this is a cashless store.”

His eyeballs moved back and forth between Bernie and the sign next to the cash register. It said: This is a cashless store.

Bernie groaned. “It’s because of those people from Toronto, again,” 

“I’m from Calgary,” the cashier explained.

Bernie didn’t know how to respond to that.

“Doesn’t your son come in here?” the cashier asked.

Bernie realized at that moment she should have worn a disguise. 

Outside, flashing red lights appeared. Bernie watched with concern as police cars filled the parking lot.

The cashier, in a kind voice, the tone a person might use to give a suggestion to a friend that the color of his sweater doesn’t match his pants, said, “They might shoot you if you’re holding that gun. It doesn’t matter what age you are.”

As Bernie thought about putting the gun down, one of the police looked into the window, and then walked straight in.

Bernie has thought they might surround the building and start a kidnapping negotiation. She had planned to ask for a taxi to the Yukon to let everyone go.

“Bernie Schultz?” the policeman asked.

“Who’s asking?”

“Let’s take you back to Sage Hill.” He said and walked straight toward her.

Bernie lowered the gun that lacked bullets.

Her gig was up. The police knew retirees in Calgary wouldn't give up their guns, but the retirement homes had taken away their bullets.

The cashier cleared his throat. “Just for my Instagram account. Why were you trying to rob the store?” 

Bernie wanted to quote Willie Sutton ‘because that’s where all the money is’ but it didn’t seem to fit this situation anymore.

She mulled it over—the police weren’t in a rush. She told the cashier, “For once, I just wanted to be in control of my own life.”

The cashier thought about it, then said, “The office workers that come into our store and put in complicated orders, I think have the same reason.” When he noticed how many people were watching him, he added, “Not that that stereotype is representative of all people who work in offices.”

In the language of her own generation, Bernie explained that she also didn’t mean any offense to anyone by her words and actions that day.

“Sorry”, she said. She left the store with the police, one holding her shoulder, in case she tripped on the front step.