ATM Lethargy

Friday morning, 8:05AM EST. Rain. Not the warm, lush, sub-tropical shower that falls in spring in a place like Florida, but the 'dreary, wet, damp, nasty, if it dropped a couple of degrees we'd get 10 inches of snow' rain in Northern Jersey.

So, needing a couple of bucks, I pull up to my bank and the ATM. As I pull around the back, I see I'm four cars deep. "No problem", I tell myself, "it's an ATM. Everybody gets out quick".

Wrong, Boyo.

The first (ahem) vehicle is a hoopty truck. You know the type; a shade of green you would never choose if you bought the car new, two wheel drive, the person driving most likely has a driver's record of dubious worth. This guy takes a couple of minutes, most likely trying to figure out how much the jag he's going to go on after work at the saloon he frequents will cost, versus paying his child support this week. Takes his cash and away he goes.

Next is a 'person' who pulls up and decides that this is the best time to make sure all of their accounts are in order. For five minutes the hand coming out of the car punches keys furiously. Really. I venture to guess that Houston had less keystrokes when trying to land Apollo 13. Now, I could see you taking your time, make sure you type in the right PIN (four numbers are hard to remember). So, while this major life event is happening, I am trapped on-line, no way out, waiting, mumbling, brow furrowing.

FIVE MINUTES! What could you possibly do at an ATM for five minutes?

Finally, all appears over with car and person #2. So what happens next - the inevitable counting of the semolians. Another lifetime. Maybe just 15 seconds. But you've wasted enough fossil fuels idling at the ATM straightening out your banking. And off they go.

Now, while this is all happening, wouldn't you expect vehicle#3 (a Range Rover - look for my post A**hole in a Range Rover soon) to be at least ready with the card? Pulls up in a vehicle more suited for an African Safari (which is good in case the Savannah they live in gets overrun with jungle-like mammals). I'm looking, looking, looking. NO CARD AT THE READY! You have got to be kidding me. I'm apoplectic by now. I'm like Mickey Rourke in White Sands (just kidding). I'm...next.

So, now I'm all riled up, mad at ATM meanderers, late for where I'm going because I just spent 9 minutes waiting for a drive-up ATM. Which is funny, because if you waited nine minutes at a fast-food drive-up, you'd most likely be screaming at the poor slob behind the window (or bullet-proof glass if you go to White Castle). But at an ATM, there is nobody to make my frustration known. So I start counting the seconds, but have to stop because I have to enter my PIN (six digits, sucka!) - and I'm out in 20 seconds. To the car behind me, your very welcome.

Bloggin' in the Rain!