How Being Carjacked Helped Me Survive Corporate America

You can’t control what happens to you, but you can control how you respond.

Photo by The Lazy Artist Gallery from Pexels

It was 30 minutes before Star Trek came on. I needed my TV snack, so I grabbed my keys before I went to my mother’s room.

“Mom, you want anything?”

Binge-watching Star Trek was our weekly innocent existence — a mother and son bonding over one of TV’s all-time, most popular series. We watched Colombo too.

“Yes, baby. Get me a honey bun, a Dr. Pepper, and some Doritos.”

I checked my pockets to make sure I had cash. With ten dollars, I was about to create miracles at the liquor store on 69th street. I hopped into my beat-up, burgundy Dodge Aries. After four attempts, the car started, and I was on my way.

Unbeknownst to me, a tragic event was about to change me forever.

I pulled up to the first stop sign. The inner-city teaches you to stop short of the intersection. You don’t look left and right; you look back first, then to the front. If a robber were going to bust my window and rob me, he’d come from the rear.

To think: four days prior, I had run to my mother’s room with a college acceptance letter. I thought…