Movies from the 1980s and 90s fed my love of morally grey men. Not just in the way that had me chasing emotionally unavailable men my whole life, waiting to finally be the one, but in fun, lusty ways too.
I'm pretty sure one of the things that drew me to banking was the bank heist movies from the 90s. Point Break and Heat are my favourites. And while I understood robberies we saw on TV weren't usually what robberies were like in real life, the thought of drop-dead gorgeous men effortlessly taking over a place made me a little weak in the knees.
Imagine my colossal disappointment when I realized most bank robbers are misshapen spam in tracksuits and windbreakers (of all things). Where the hell are the Val Kilmer's, Robert De Niro's and Patrick Swayze's?! My fantasy of one of these men (or a reasonable enough facsimile) waltzing into my branch, rounding everyone up, taking me into an empty office, ripping off my nylons, tying me up with the nylons and then taking me as a hostage, was quickly dashed. And yes, of course, we'd fall in love during the mayhem because we were taught Stockholm Syndrome is romantic. Is it still Stockholm Syndrome if I want to be kidnapped? Anyway...
I was recently reminded of a story a former colleague told me about a robbery she experienced. It was a takeover robbery—all of the staff were stripped to their underwear and locked in the vault. (Don't worry- it's easy to get out of a locked vault.) The trauma of that caused her to spend unbelievable amounts of money on fancy, beautiful underwear sets in case it ever happened again. She was 65 years old, and money was going to lingerie instead of retirement. I was fuming and heartbroken when she told me. I also made it my mission to wear the ugliest goddamn underwear I could find because why would I reward these bozos?
There were several occasions I'd flash her my heinous undies while we worked together. Initially, I got a stern talking to about how I should be wearing pretty things. I disagreed. I firmly held that these hypothetical bandits should immediately regret their decision to get everyone to undress. My hope was they'd take one look at me and make everyone put their clothes back on. My co-worker would laugh hysterically at the state of my undergarments. I watched over time her entire demeanor relax. She even stopped spending thousands of dollars on new lingerie.
But as I rewatched Heat for the umpteenth time, I found that fantasy of the robbery returning. I think if any of the bank robbers I'd ever encountered in my career had been attractive, I probably would have worn sexier underwear.