Robert Hall part two

Back in the 1970’s I worked at a family clothing store called Robert Hall located in the city of Saint Ann.  The store was on the main drag that went through half a dozen suburban towns and next to the only indoor shopping mall in the area at the time so our store was a busy place.  We saw lots of crazy things. 

I was the store cashier, bookkeeper and sometimes salesclerk. My office was on a raised platform in the rear of the store, designed to give me a full view of the sales floor.  Off to my left, in full view of my desk, were the ladies’ dressing rooms.  I was expected to keep my third eye open for suspected shoplifters.  When I had a lag in my office duties I would go check the fitting rooms for merchandise left hanging in the rooms.  Account for the empty hangers, where possible and just tidy up. 

One day, a lady was trying on swimwear.  She came out to check herself in the large mirror a dozen times.  Then she came out in a skimpy bikini that certainly showed off too much if you know what I mean. That was against the rules.  Customers were supposed to keep their underwear on when trying on swimwear.   Unfortunately, when she went back in to change she got her feet tangled in the tiny string garment and suddenly she fell out of the fitting room, landing on her back on the floor, in her birthday suit.  If I had had a camera I could have been arrested for shooting porn. 

On another occasion, I noticed a lady go in but did not see her come out.  After a while, I went to check on the room.  All I found in the room was a bloody mess and an aborted fetus about 20 weeks’ gestation.    That is when I learned there was an abortion clinic just down the road that would give injections and tell the ladies to go shopping to help along the results.

One night when I was working the closing shift I went over to the men’s side of the store to help straighten and clean up.  When I opened the door to one of the dressing rooms I found the store manager in a compromising position with the sixteen-year-old stock clerk.  I shut the door and walked away.  About a week later two police officers came into the store and arrested the manager.  As they were leading him out of the store he tossed me the store keys and told me to call the district manager.  Apparently, after my bad timing at the fitting room, the girl decided to confess all to her parents who called the cops. 

We got a new manager and it wasn’t long before I began to notice that things were amiss. First, the store had a policy that no one could be in the store alone.  The opening manager had to wait outside until another employee showed up before unlocking and entering the building.  I was usually the first person and I kept finding the manager in the building.  Next petty cash was disappearing from the locked box in my desk.   Several times the small amount of money kept for making change disappeared from the part of the safe that was unlocked during the day.  I knew it had to be the new manager but could not prove it.  I did report him to the district manager, on his next visit, and he began making unscheduled visits and spending more time in our store. Then, an inventory showed there were quite a few men’s suits and expensive Jeana Theresa ladies knit suits missing from our inventory.  Before the person could be caught our store was closed and the manager was left in the store alone for several days to await the liquidation company.  Far as I know he was never caught and I wonder how much more inventory disappeared during that time.

That was the only time I applied for unemployment, but before I could start to collect it the district manager called me and offered me a job working with him.  He had been hired to help set up several stores in the St. Louis area for a new company called Marshall’s.  Once the stores were up and running Mr. Barry was promoted to district manager and he offered me a job working in the store closest to my home.     

pays to have a big mouth

Today's headlines of our local newspaper read “Armed robbery suspect on the Loose in (my town)” The article starts by saying “Police are investigating three armed robberies that took place during a span of a dozen days.

I live in what (until recently) has been described as a sleepy little hamlet on the Missouri River, where crime is limited mostly to crimes of opportunity without violence.  Several years ago, we had a pocket camera and our GPS stolen from our car one night. It was probably the only night in ages when we forgot to lock the car doors.  It was no great loss for us.  The camera had a broken lens and the GPS was so out of date it liked to take us to empty fields instead of the location we programmed into it.  Both had already been replaced and were safely in the house.

Our county is quickly becoming known as the Meth capital of the state and possibly the Midwest.  Both the manufacture and use of this terrible drug has been on the rise.  As a result, we are starting to see more and more crimes like the one in today’s headlines.

But, I’m getting sidetracked.  I intended this post to be about holdups.  Or more specifically holdups that I have been connected with. Yes, there have been more than one.

Back in the 1970’s I worked at a family clothing store called Robert Hall located in the city of Saint Ann.  That store had been robbed several times over the years.  And shoplifting happened on a large scale every few months.  The store was on the main drag that went through half a dozen suburban towns and next to the only indoor shopping mall in the area at the time.  It made it easy for the criminals to get in and out without being caught.  Until I was hired that is

Someone attempted to rob the store twice while I was working there.  Both times it was a black male who was armed.  I was told by the district manager after the second attempt that I was certainly more resourceful than most and certainly much luckier as well.  Frankly, he could not believe I hadn’t gotten myself shot. 

I was the store cashier, bookkeeper and sometimes salesclerk. My office was on a raised platform in the rear of the store, designed to give me a full view of the sales floor. It was a “U” shaped space lined with a counter that came right below my breast. There was a wall that surrounded the countertop that I could just barely see over when standing at the register.  A cut out about a foot wide allowed the customers to come transact their business and many of them could barely see over the counter.  All of I could see of them was their faces. 

One day at lunch time (which meant the salesperson was off the floor) a tall thin man came up and told me he had a gun and I was to give him all my money. I just simply said No I can’t do that while pushing the silent alarm that went off at the police station a block down the street.  The man got angry and repeated his command and showed me the gun in his waistband.  I proceeded to lie to him and said that there was no money in the drawer to give him.  I told him I had just started my shift and had a new till with a fifty-dollar bank in coins and few singles.  I had not rung up a single sale since clocking in.  He told me to open the safe.  I told him the safe was locked and required a key that only the manager had and he was at lunch.  The man must have decided to see for himself because he headed around the counter for the swing door on the side.  While he did that, I picked up the glass I kept to hold my water and once the door swung in I doused him in the face with the water and told him I would be throwing the heavy glass at his head next.  He decided to run for the door where he was met by two police officers.

The second time was the next summer.  A man came to the counter and handed me a receipt wanting to take out his lay-a-way.  When the till opened so I could make change he told me he had a gun and wanted all the money.  I looked him in the eye and said “what” as if I had not understood what he said.  As I did that I was hitting the silent alarm.  I repeated the demand.  I promptly slammed the register shut.  Reached up and grabbed the register key locking the register and made a big production of putting the key in my mouth and swallowing it.  I then told him he would have to wait for my next bowel movement to open the till.  He also headed for the door to be met by the cops. 

In the first robbery, the man did have a gun in his waistband but it was not loaded.  When the cops searched the second robber they found he had a sawed-off shotgun down the leg of his trousers. And, no I did not swallow the register key.  Sometimes it pays to have a big mouth. 

I never got the chance to see if there would be another attempt at robbing our store.  A few weeks later I answered the phone and the person on the other end identified himself as being from the regional office.  He told me our store was now officially closed and I was to immediately get the papers off the fax machine and tape the closing notice to the front door after locking the door.  Once there were no customers in the store I was to send all the employees home and have the manager follow the instructions in the paperwork.  I was now out of a job.  

I should admit that I was young and stupid during those years. No way would I every try to pull the same stunts today, and I hope none of you will either.  It is best to just comply and give them the money. 

There are a few other stories from my time at Robert Hall I should probably share so perhaps I will get to those soon.