I walked into the bank thinking it would be simple ' a quiet branch, late afternoon, hardly anyone around. I had the gun in my hand, real enough to make anyone freeze, and I slammed it down on the counter, shouting what I thought were the right words. One of the tellers mouthed something I couldn't hear. Then another leaned in and said, slowly, 'Do you need a bag?' I snapped back, louder, 'Of course it's a bloody real gun!' That was when I saw it ' the tiny glance they gave each other, the pitying look. They'd realised I was deaf. They pressed the alarm while smiling at me. I didn't notice until the police were already behind me. Later, I even tried to claim they'd discriminated against me. But the truth is: I wasn't a victim. I was a bad thief and an easy catch.