At 5 p.m. today, I had to go to our local Bank of America branch in Thousand Oaks on Arboles to deposit a check; the final stop of an errand-filled afternoon that had dragged my daughter, much to her annoyance, away from the cozy confines of Nickelodeon.

Late afternoon on Wednesday in T.O. is usually not that busy, so as luck would have it, I found a parking spot directly in front of the glass doors at the bank, literally 3 yards from the entrance. My daughter stayed in the car as I was only going to be the proverbial “two minutes.”

Hey, what could happen as I was able to keep an eye on her through the glass doors while inside the bank? I have a streetsmart girl, and after all, Thousand Oaks is one of the top five safest cities in the U.S.

While filling out the deposit slip, loud voices suddenly were heard and although it took a few nanoseconds to register, the message came across as “Everybody get down on the floor!”

I turned to see a large individual wearing a ski mask not 6 feet away from me, while his accomplices were already inside the counter, directing the bank tellers to hand over the money or words to that effect.

I froze where I stood, and was directed by the ski mask to “Get down on the floor face down.” I believe he also added “sir” to the end of that second command, which struck me as kind of weird.

At this stage my brain had caught up with what I was seeing in front of me, and without the need for further clarification, I immediately complied.

As I lay face down on the bank floor, multiple thoughts went through my head: “Is this really happening, and, if so, what if the cops arrive in time and it will be a hostage situation?” and to keep my head down and pray they finish quickly what they had come to do.

But these flash thoughts were immediately replaced by the only significant one: My daughter’s outside and the robbers will exit the same way as they came in— right in front of her!

Within two minutes the robbers exited. Following bank protocol, the manager immediately locked the doors so everyone left inside had to stay.

I immediately went to him and told him, pointing to my car, “My daughter’s in the car right there, I have to get her, let me out.” He unlocked the door and I exited to find the passenger side door of the car wide open and nobody inside!

Instantaneously panic set in, and I screamed her name out in the parking lot, frantically running back and forth looking for her. Within about 15 seconds—but the longest 15 seconds I will ever remember—she emerged from the Golden Spoon, a frozen yogurt place directly across from the bank.

We hugged and with some tears in her eyes, she sought confirmation from me for having done the “right thing” and we went back inside the bank to await the police.

From her perspective, as she was waiting for me and looking at me inside the bank, the robbers pulled up in their car and parked in the space beside our car. They quickly emerged with their ski masks on and rushed through the glass doors of the bank. She heard their shout of “Everyone down on the floor!” and instinctively, she remembered what she had learned from me and her teachers from school about what to do when danger is perceived.

She jumped from our car, raced across to the Golden Spoon, found an attendant and told her that the bank was being robbed and to call 911.

For a second, the attendant thought it was some sort of prank, but she repeated it, adding “My dad’s inside the bank!” The attendant called 911 and reported a robbery in progress.

As we waited inside the bank, the cops arrived and surrounded the bank, guns pointing at the doors. After 15 minutes we were ordered to exit the bank, one by one, and eventually were interviewed by the detectives. I later learned the getaway car was soon found but it was just the decoy car. The robbers switched to another car waiting for them.

A friend who I spoke to afterwards told me about how people react in moments of crisis. Apparently, 80 percent of the population tends to freeze, 10 percent choose to do the wrong thing and maybe take their chances with large dude with a ski mask inside a bank. The other 10 percent does the right thing; they react instinctively to raise the alarm or take action.

Lots of lessons to be learned— but next time I complain to my daughter about watching too many “FBI Files” and “The First 48 Hours” TV shows, maybe I’ll reconsider.

Stay safe.

Kelly was a freelance writer for a community newspaper in San Francisco. See his photo graph on page 9.