"If money talks, it ain't on speaking terms with me"

I can't believe I've never blogged about this, as it's one of my longest-running stand-ups. And that is: the sacred cult of the walk-up ATM. People act so strange when they are around the cash machine. First, no matter how much they're chit-chatting with you while you are in line together, there's a silence that falls when one person approaches the machine. There is no speaking while the party is using the machine and you avert your eyes when they get their cash, like you're averting your eyes from something private. God forbid you witness someone going to use the cash machine and actually TAKING cash out of it! That's so dirty! Then, as you walk away from the machine, quickly stashing your dirty cash, you start to look at everyone with suspicious eyes. Suddenly, that stranger that you were so wittily exchanging comments about the weather with seems a little off. Clearly, they're "up to something." Why, this doesn't even look like their regular bank -- the little bugger is hoping to rob you of your last $20! But, then they brush past you up to the machine and your discomfort fades as quickly as it arrived. And you defer to the power of the person in front of the machine. Ignoring their too long bleeping, the ones that sound like error messages. And NEVER having your eyes anywhere near the machine while they are punching in their secret code.

The secret code is one of the last flags of intimacy in any relationships. The last things we guard closest to our hearts. I have friends that I have known longer than I haven't known them and I couldn't even begin to tell you any of their "secret codes." What is your secret code? And what does it represent? Why did you pick THOSE numbers? These numbers are SO secret that should you forget yours, you can't call and just get someone to remind you of your PIN. The people who have the power to turn your ATM activities on and off don't even have access to your little 4 digit key. Crazy, huh? [Sidenote: The other day S was going to loan me his ATM card so I could pick up some stuff for him. I was mentally freaking out that I was going to have his PIN. What could he be thinking? Did he think we were there already? Would he expect to know MY PIN? What's next, my email password for God's sake?]

It's funny, too, how the walk-up ATM is so much more sacred than the drive-up. There's no patience with the drive-in, for one thing. Also, there's no respect. You stare blatantly at them while they're punching the numbers and buttons because why not? You can't see that far up, no need to try like to act like you're not looking. They can't see you anyway unless they look in their rear view mirror and what are they doing that for anyways? That's just taking MORE time!

It's strange the things we hold sacred here in America, isn't it? We can talk about our most intimate sex acts over the dinner table, but don't speak a word while I'm checking my account balance... Now, if you'll excuse me I have to go balance my checkbook -- stop looking at my final balance!

-hp