Robbed In Broad Daylight

Robbed in Broad Daylight (And Led to Something Greater)

So there I was, standing in the checkout line, groceries bagged, hand on the cart, ready to head out. The cashier gave me that empty look—you know, the kind that tells you something’s wrong but they haven’t found the courage to say it yet. Then she calls for backup.

Here comes the store’s backup grocery robot (aka another employee), who tells me the transaction didn’t go through.

Wait—what? I blinked in disbelief. I pulled up my banking app and showed them: The transaction did go through. It was charged. I was out $121.00. Yet I couldn’t leave with my groceries. Make that make sense.

Confused and irritated, I kept showing my phone, trying to reason through the fog. “The charge isn’t pending,” I said, “it’s posted. It’s gone.” Still, I was stuck repeating myself to the cashier, the backup, and eventually the manager. I even asked for that little piece of receipt paper that printed out, hoping it would give me something—anything—to stand on.

Before the autopilot manager swooped in, the cashier leaned in and whispered that the last four customers had the same issue. They just tried the transaction again and it worked. Huh? “How can I reattempt a $121.00 purchase when the money is already gone?” I asked. That part didn’t seem to concern anyone but me.

I felt like I had been handcuffed and robbed in plain sight. The manager told me it was my banking service that caused the issue. I asked for a refund. She said it would come later. Void and refund—whatever that means. But I knew I wasn’t leaving with groceries or money. I could’ve cried.

I walked outside and warned other customers. I don’t usually do that kind of thing, but I was heated. Then I did something even more out of character: I called the police. I wanted proof—something in writing that confirmed what happened, and some kind of assurance that the transaction would be reversed. Even the officer said it was my bank. I thought, Are you people serious right now?

So I did what I should’ve done from the start. I opened my banking app, hit the chat icon, and told them I had just been robbed by a grocery chain. Within 4 minutes—four—the funds were refunded, and the store was blocked from charging me again. No fuss. No drama. Just efficiency.

But by then, it was too late for that special meal I’d planned. A meal I was excited to share with two others. I had really wanted to bless someone else with that moment. And it was gone. Time lost. Spirit drained. Hunger unresolved.

I showed up to my A.A. meeting on time, but with no topic in mind. I didn’t even want to talk about “The Reflection of the Day.” I was mentally tired, disappointed, and still reeling from what happened.

Then my inner voice nudged me—Be honest. Be raw. That’s where the growth happens. Vulnerability isn’t weakness—it’s the soil for healing.

I searched online for something that could connect frustration and recovery. And just like that, Step 11 popped up in an article:

“Sought through prayer and meditation to improve our conscious contact with God…”

That was it. Frustration had been eating me alive, and Step 11 reminded me to pause and seek connection with my Higher Power in the midst of it. I shared that with the group, and to my surprise, others opened up about their frustrations. It turned out, I wasn’t alone. I never am.

In that moment, I realized: I needed that meeting more than I needed oxtails and coconut rice.

Still, I did get my Jamaican meal later that afternoon. I was exhausted—emotionally and mentally—but it wasn’t the food that restored me. It was the reminder that even in chaos, I am being guided. And sometimes, being robbed in broad daylight is just the redirection I need to see what matters most.