Around the ATM, the World Gathers.

As I was feeling particularly Capitalistic this evening, I drove down to the bank to yank a twenty from my bank's drive-through ATM. I figured I might want to feed the Industrialist pigs in a non-plastic manner.

As I pulled around, I saw a group of three people standing in front of the ATM, an old woman and a younger couple. I could have plowed them down with the Saturn, but decided to maintain a safe distance and wait my turn, instead.

There's something a bit unsettling about people doing something on foot meant to be done from a car. I've been refused on-foot service from a Taco Bell drive through in my time, so I have an ingrained sense of Right and Wrong in these instances. The actions of these folks sharpened my discomfort. It appeared that they were trying to make a deposit, and things just weren't working out for them. As they attempted to get the machine to eat their envelope, they made motions akin to a bowler trying to will his ball out of the gutter. This never works, and it didn't work for them, either.

And, then! A car pulled up beside me, and inside was the woman who used to cut my hair before I started to save some cash by going to Great Clips instead. My betrayal put a bit of bad blood between us, so I was surprised when she opened her window and told me to come by and say hi sometime.

The ATM, man. A show, some conversation, and twenty bucks, all in one convenient location.