Drive-Up ATMs

*Not an actual photo of a drive-up ATM, but who cares.  A nice ass is simply appreciated.

Add this to my growing list of irritations.  I cannot stand it when people hang out for a day and a half at these things doing what seems like their monthly finances while I inhale their exhaust.  These devices were created for speed.  For people on the go, sucking out another $20…$40…$60 that most likely isn’t financially prudent to pull out, but do so cause they’re living their life.

Really, it’s supposed to be a very quick and efficient procedure:

You pull in.  Type in the four digit pin code (for those who travel outside the U.S.) or six for those content to stay within the confines of our country.  Press the dollar amount. Decline to see the receipt.  Pull out the money, and ease off the brake pedal while inserting the bills into the wallet.  You’re in—you’re out.  (By the way, I do kind of miss the old school ones I remember as a kid.  Those cylindrical capsules that resembled something Mike Brady would use to transport prints to I assume, Mr. Phillips.  It was something I was slightly looking forward to as I got older.)

Anyways, as I was saying, these modern contraptions were built for the rapid exchange customer, not for…well the lazy sons of bitches I always seem to find myself stuck behind.  When I pull up and happen to find a driver in front of me, I should be seeing a sexy, firm, tawny arm emerging from the car window adorned with a shiny silver bracelet or two, ready for some quick typing.  Not these pasty or cigarette greyed weathered wings with 4-6 pounds of goiter-like material hanging down from the elbow like a todder napping in a hammock.  Going back and forth between buttons for a few seconds…dropping down to the car door to rest…typing  a few more…rest…insert a check… drop back down….and yes, repeat a seemingly infinite number of times as further checks, coupons?  articles?  are inserted in the machine.

Come on.  You’re freakin’ killing me.  And probably killing arm bracelet girl whose most likely now stuck behind me.  You people don’t belong at the drive up machine.  You don’t understand how it’s supposed to work.  Or maybe you do and you just don’t care.  Which appears to be consistent with your entire presentation.  Regardless, your privileges should be revoked, or you should at least be ticketed.  Now I know getting off your ass and using your legs to enter a bank or at least a wall mounted ATM takes effort and initiative but for the sake of all of us, and yourself really, dig a little deeper, and get out of the fucking way.

BN


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