The area must be secured. The crime scene preserved until an intense investigation is completed and filed.

We don't have any of that cool yellow police caution tape lying around the house. I'm not even sure it's available for civilian purchase. I'll need to secure a roll. It's always in the trunk of cop cars on TV shows. I'm assuming that's typical police procedure. I'll need to either rob an unmanned police cruiser or audition for a role on 'Law & Order SVU.' I've got a better chance pulling off the former.

Thus far, nothing is missing, though I'm not quite sure the exact contents of the glove compartment. If questioned, could anyone describe with accuracy what's in their glove box? Some napkins, the owner's manual, maybe a pen and about a hundred electrical cords to obsolete technology might be my the best guesses. I also wouldn't be shocked to find an R&B mix tape named something like SMOOVE JAMZ. All of the above (except the cassette since the car doesn't have a tape deck) lay scattered in the passenger side footwell. Before that morning, anything could have been inside that glove compartment and I wouldn't have known or cared, but when you get robbed, it forces a person to take personal inventory.

Maybe robbed isn't the correct word. A person, not the owner of the car, rummaged through the vehicle in the early morning hours and left the unwanted loot littered around the car. Hence the need for police tape. There were no signs of forced entry (probably because I forgot to lock the doors) and it appears as if nothing was taken. Nothing. Not a CD, or power cord to a 1998 MP3 player or the directions to Dutch Wonderland were good enough to get stuffed into the thief's booty bag. In this moment, a father of two young children, is supposed to be grateful that nothing was taken and that his family is safe. Though the thought of personal property being violated leaves an uneasy feeling in the gut, everything that matters most in the world is safe.

Instead, I feel anger, as one question repeats in my head like the first songs on the Jay-Z disc resting label side up on the dashboard. It's the lone question I'd ask the would-be thief in some unlikely scenario where victims get to talk to criminals who kind-of did wronged them in some way.

The question is "What the f*ck?!? My stuff isn't good enough to steal?!?"

Getting robbed rattles a person, and the feeling of vulnerability is hard to shake, but experiencing a break in and realizing your crap isn't worth taking is a shot to the ego.

"They didn't take anything?" she asks. She clutches her coffee mug and stares out the window as if the criminal could walk by any moment because he changed his mind and he's gotta have the $.79 in the cup holder.

"No," I muttered, winding wires into a Ziploc bag for easier glove compartment storage.

"Well, that's a relief."

"I guess."

"You guess?"

She doesn't share my feelings on the case.

"They didn't even steal my sunglasses. Those are nice sunglasses."

"We bought two pair for $20 on the boardwalk."

"Yeah, but they look expensive!" (Unless standing close enough to read MADE IN CHINA in the stem spot usually reserved for high-end brand names.)

Right around the time the first kid was born, I went cold turkey on large personal purchases. It wasn't a conscious thing, I just can't find the time to shop or the need for luxury items. A pair of $200 shorts seem a little ridiculous for a day in the park spent chasing a kid who won't let me remove the massive pile of turds from his pants. New clothes come at Xmas and on my birthday and anything else is bought on an "as needed" basis. (When the accidental holes in my underwear are bigger than the manufactured holes in my underwear, that's an "as needed" purchase.) Money doesn't go towards impulse purchases at mall kiosks it goes toward impulses purchases at Build-a-Bear Workshops.

A neighbor, her and her dog on their usual morning walk, stopped to say hello to my rear end sticking out the driver's side door. I warned her of the break-in, and encouraged her to check her car, to which she replied "Yeah, I noticed it this morning." Her car had an unwanted visitor who also took nothing.

"I guess my stuff isn't good enough to steal" she mentioned, the dog dragging her home and out of the oppressive morning humidity.

The debit card ding that afternoon, after the almost-robbery, topped out at around the $600 mark. A pair of new sunglasses specifically for driving, a new GPS system to replace all the scribbled directions and CDs because those things still exist and I was so excited to find that out I bought several. I splurged on myself for the first time in years.

I placed each item in a special spot inside the glove compartment, center console or in those hidden compartments which a thief usually finds first.

The next guy who breaks into this car will strike gold.

I'm keeping the police line tape in the house. That stuff is priceless.

And I locked the car because I'm not a moron.

Chris Illuminati is the editor-in-chief of GuySpeed. He’s written three humor books, ruined many personal relationships and still cries during thunderstorms. His “Half a Man” column appears (almost) every week. You can read more of his work here or follow him on Twitter.

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