Easy Target?

Second time unlucky

Okay, so no one likes being robbed, mugged or pick-pocketed — surely. I have had the absolute pleasure of it happening to me TWICE within the span of a year. The thing is, everyone seems to think that you’re having a cry because you lost all these valuable things, but in reality (anyone who has had anything stolen from them will know what I mean) it’s more the feeling of having been taken advantage of.

Around June of last year, I was walking home on a Winter’s night after a jog. I decided to sit down on a bench at the nearby park to text my friend as we had plans to go out that night. I hadn’t even had the chance to hit send when I felt someone push me to the ground and snatch my phone out of my hands. It was about five seconds before I could even process what was happening when I finally realised and tried to chase after them. There were about 6 or 7 guys who were double my size in height and weight and I knew there was nothing I could do. Grown men stealing from a girl? Impressive. After the adrenaline, that shit feeling started sinking in. It wasn’t even the value of the phone ($950 at the time) that distraught me but it was that fucking inconvenience of having no way to contact my friends, losing contacts, emails, texts, photos, notes and important information that was stored on this rectangular piece of shit phone that I so heavily relied on.

So I got over that after a couple of days. I’m not a materialistic person and was mostly just upset at myself for not backing up my phone resulting in many lost photo memories. Fast track to July of this year — I was having a wonderful night out with friends. I was wearing a bag which had a zip and I wore it on my shoulder (it was hanging on my side). I was at the bar and it was EXTREMELY crowded, everyone was pressed up against each other. I turned around to speak to my friend and 5 minutes later, reached into my bag and realised it was completely empty. I had my licence, bank card, $30 in cash, a lipstick (was very annoyed about this, I mean at least leave my lipstick), my concession and Myki card. All these things are replaceable obviously, but that wasn’t the point. I called the bank straight away to close the account and issue me a new card. I can’t even order a new ID because I don’t have my new bank card yet. I can’t do shit. It’s a fucking hassle. I mean, it doesn’t just ruin my night but it ruins my friends’ night too.

The absolute invasion of my privacy because the dickhead that robbed me now has my name, address and date of birth.

The paranoia that follows because you don’t know whose hands your information could end up in and what this person could do with it.

The helplessness because while you could stand outside of that bar and force everyone that leaves to empty their pockets, you realise that it is near impossible and you have to move the fuck on.

You then sobbingly tell people you were robbed and while they’re full of wide-eyed sympathy at the start, they then start questioning what you were doing at that place, at that time, with those people. Essentially, everyone can be a target for anyone, anywhere and anytime. Why does it matter where I was? Is it really MY fault that I got robbed? As if by going somewhere at a particular time is just asking for someone to take my things. They’re my fucking things, shit, whether its 4pm or 4am, whether I’m in the safety of my home or a crowded bar, I can’t just ACCEPT and be okay with it.