My husband's small business was robbed Wednesday night. Yes, just days after I wrote the Brinks Stinks post. I took that down, by the way, because I realized I had given potential thieves too much useful information about the store's security system. And yes, Mags, I also concluded that the false alarm the other night was probably just a dry run for the thieves to see what would happen.
Here's what did happen Wednesday night, without going into minute detail. The thieves disarmed the security system, then went to the back side of the building, where they couldn't be seen from the highway, and cut a hole through the back wall. They built a blind for themselves using discarded metal racks and old signs and they must have worked at the wall for quite a while, using tin snips and a pry bar. They peeled through two layers of metal and the material between and essentially opened the wall like a sardine can.
After all the panic and mess, we ended up lucky--this time. The thieves took only the Marlboros and a small number of other items. It amounted to 68 cartons of cigarettes. But it seems they were mainly interested in the Marlboros because they took those and left all the rest. How strange is that?
In the aftermath, hubby and others have worked feverishly to restore order. The builders came the same day and replaced the damaged sections of wall. The security people have corrected the flaw in the security system (we hope) and are in the process of doing an update with state of the art camera equipment. And let me tell you, this is setting us back a pretty penny. But how can we afford not to do it. Our income is dependent on this little business.
All of this, plus a number of other things, has left me in a state of mind that I can't really describe. I feel restless, insecure. I feel like I need to do something, but I don't know what it would be. I'm seriously considering taking classes and learning a skill I could do from home that would be relevant in today's workforce. This excites and scares me all at the same time. It's been thirty-some years since I was in school. Can an old dog actually learn a new trick and produce a bit of income? My personal circumstances force me to stay at home. I had always hoped I could earn money from writing. But the reality of that is, writing fiction for publication is like buying a lottery ticket and hoping it comes up a winner. And you're only allowed one ticket every few months or even years. So, realistically speaking, what are the odds?
I don't want to give up my writing dream. But at the same time, I feel I must do something more than what I've been doing. My husband carries the entire load. And he's a brave man. When he lost his good, long-time job three and a half years ago, we were forced to live off his retirement. We were essentially down to nothing when he made the decision to start his own business. It was an act of desperation, but he made it work. Now I feel I need to help him. Especially since Wednesday night. We were lucky this time, but the reality is, we could be wiped out financially next time around.
Sorry for the doom and gloom, but that's just reality sometimes and, just now, I'm standing right smack dab in the middle of it.