I Thought I Knew How to Not Rob a Bank — I Was Wrong

Mistakes were made. Bags were filled.

Luís Leal Miranda is an advertising copywriter and writer from Lisbon, Portugal.

Anyone who knows me knows I'm the guy to go to when you don't want to rob a bank. I've got all the right skills: fear of confrontation, chronic indecisiveness, and a terrible sense of direction. Plus, I’m a loud sneezer.

Avoiding bank heists is a family tradition. My grandfather wasn’t a stick-up man, just like his father before him, and his father before him. It's in my blood… or so I thought. I recently found myself interacting with a financial institution in a new, unexpected way—completely by accident.

Here's what happened. I was walking down the street, minding my own business, when I stumbled upon something odd: a pistol, wrapped in a paper bag, lying inside a trash can. Being the honest citizen that I am, I picked it up—what if the gun fell into the hands of someone less skilled in the art of not robbing?

But where to take it? I had to be quick, so I entered the nearest building, which happened to be a bank. Determined to find the gun's owner, I walked in, weapon held aloft, and announced, “Did anyone here lose a pistol?” Unfortunately, I’m a quiet speaker and have some trouble being assertive in new environments, so no one heard me. Not to be discouraged, I pulled the gun’s trigger, hoping the loud bang would get everyone’s attention.

And it did. The cashier quickly handed me a piece of paper with a nine-digit code and pointed toward the back.

“Alright,” I thought, “she wants me to store the gun in a locker.”