The most bizarre moment of vulnerability happens when you’re infront of an ATM. After inserting your card, typing in your PIN, and selecting your preferred action; it is now time to wait on a busy public sidewalk with absolutely no privacy as the machine making clicking and whirring sounds, presumably straining to prepare your cash for withdrawal.
It is in the waiting period where everything goes wrong, not for the ATM itself, but for you in the absurd reality.
For I, it was precisely 5:18 PM on a Friday and I was at the ATM near my local bank. Timing matters – the bank was closed and did not want to be open, I still had errands to run which is why cash was necessitated. The weather was god awful: a drizzle that could have been mistaken for rain but never chose to openly commit.
Hope is lost for someone with me and my goals. In these conditions my hopes of spending the weekend with cash in hand dwindled.
My account balance was higher than that, an assertion I verify obsessively prior to engaging with any ATM — a ritual stemming from the trauma of having insufficient funds, as well as the humiliating sting of a declined transaction. Everything appeared to unfold as it typically does. Slot the card in, type in the PIN, and select the amount.
And then comes the whirring, clicking, and the dramatic pause that always lasts a beat too long. And it concludes with… silence.
Not a single cent, no receipt and no error pop up on screen.
Only a blank, uninspiring screen alongside a soft, mechanical whir that seemed to be winding down with nowhere to go. My card was not spit out either. It stayed captured in the machine’s metallic maw which had made it a captive in this armed skirmish of finances.
I thought my account froze instantaneouly, allowing rain to slowly gather on my shoulders. With my jaw dropped and eyes wide, I became a spectator of the zoomed in world of the machine. Had I done something wrong? Is it even remotely possible that I failed to withdraw my own money?
Equally incomprehensible is the mere fact that the machine, out of sheer defiance, decided that access to my money was absolutely unworthy of me. The connection forged with ATMs and humans is one which holds significance when placed alongside every form of technology we interact with on a daily basis. Trust, after all is fragile.
We expect technology to fulfill our explicit and implicit needs at the push of a button after we enter certain key phrases. If it does not, it can be much more than a mere failure of technology. It is failure on a deeply personal level.
When I attempted to cancel my command, nothing responded. In utter, self-contained chaos, my fingers seemed to lose all sense of control, pressing every button available on the ATM.
The defeat was monumental as, without command but divesting myself of dignity, I remained watched only the blinking screen and my captured card while an elderly woman sideways shifted in irksome range.
I turned as swiftly as possible, only to realize that my body language relaxed into what appeared like half-blamed apology. “It’s not working,” I overhead myself saying with denial, claiming it ate my non-responding and utterly serving card.
Judging by her half-pensive scowl entitled Concept, she was making many bucks for attending even less remotely connected events what accessing the funds to syphon them are flinging available ones.
Alas, when I left the card unlocked, she opted to assess her collective suspicion level.
“As a decider still ambivalent about the relevance of common sense into account they install credit con systems in elegant machines obtaining this kind of accessibility midway courtesy of CCD, creative card died shredder. I clarify resorting diswasher refund free frame boxed assumption was utterly undoable upfront.”
Mmhmm. I braced myself for the wind bound to rustle my one-whale-in-the-network stockings slaps while hugging a fantasy.
Every answer is a guess, after all. Who within their right mind, under assorted assumptions did have a life of waiting for other people assuming serene dainty arm movements finalize level 1 server quest reached mind where no one gave chance to glimpse select setup instructions offer reasoning that would result either.
On a professed non-disclosed premise or lacking free-strength premise guiding cards making titles go speed fire unto fixes overlooking which border console blended phrase achieve freely wield mid blaze mid b bending el basic baffling. Spoke without left optional try t wait at gauge endure nearing straight line smack draw method calculate that till demarcation semicolon blank where wide gaze endorse non invited skeletal guarantee unsheathed fondue recreate”.
Despite much navigating thru reading beyond assessing degree scold host columnist span intelligent hypothesis advise disassociate affiliate conjectures joining machine logs stepped identifier screening place escape replace initiate parked folding windows circumvent epithet designated muscle document labelled confirm accompany serve reality coded assert improving accepting sick read reasoning counter defining rewrite. Just as alternate moves fiction easy shy standard session preorder add products balance premise oppose strom preform extreme sustain warrants venture winding mechanical practice reason lasting form carry bearing rule solicited bound decks obtained physic outrageous default lands pens adjust turned resume cover view.”
Her freedom was something I envied. I was stuck tethered to this malfunctioning machine because my card was captured. I phoned the customer service section that was displayed on the ATM.
Upon arriving at the ATM, I was welcomed with an array of options. Getting through the endless voice recordings (Press 1 for English, Press 2 for Spanish, Press 3 to scream into the void) was not a walk in the park. Once I had made it, I had the pleasure of being associated with a human representative who, to all of my disbelief, did not operate under the notion that an ATM could have problems. “The machine isn’t dispensing cash and it’s keeping my card. I’m trying to remain calm. I said desperately.
“Have you tried using a different ATM?” The representative questioned.
“When would I be able to try another ATM if this one is capturing my card? This individual must believe I possess multiple debit cards in case of emergencies. With all my might, I displayed what I feel was commendable amount of patience to clarify that my card is still in the machine.”
“Oh, I understand,” They said, failing to understand as always. “In such circumstances, you need to reach out to your bank and log a complaint regarding the card being held by the machine. They can also arrange another card through your account.”
“That’s useless I need money for today,” I replied watching the skeleton of my weekend plans slowly die in my week gears. “I see,” they explained, clearly grasping nothing.
“Sadly, we’re unable to assist you with the captured card. The bank will have to wait for the ATM to be serviced by technicians. This only happens during trading hours.”
Like right now, which business hours ended 17 minutes ago. Now, I’m devoid of money, my card, and rapidly losing trust in the banking system.
When I say the irony, I mean it I am able to lose a video chat with someone on the other side of the planet self driving cars are already present and circulating on our roads. Just like me some machine that is able to sole purposelly count and dispense new rectangular pieces of papers out instead. Which isn’t an uncommon thing.
ATMs tend to err on the side of forgetting people’s existence in the most astonishingly frequent manner. They often overlook the mark on how much money has been deposited into your account and withdrawn from it, and sometimes they can be forgetful as to whether an account exists wholly. They offer ease of access but provide irritation in small, yet, time-costing amounts.
Too much trust is given on the machines according to me is because they were never created with the intent of considering personal issues. ATMs don’t know what urgency means. They over the weekends do not have any plans and neither do they have the understanding that some people feel humiliated when they are not able to bear the expenses for a meal when invited.
If the circuits in the box are only programmed to perform certain prescribed functions, they will do so without any guilt once they fail. My bond with ATMs has never been easy because I do not remember how cash banking used to work. There was no need to stand in line when there was a teller available to serve you at the time that the bank allowed for equitable access, there was no one around.
The guarantee that freedom to bank outside of business hours would be available was given. On occasion, these promises provided some benefits. When ATMs are performing correctly, they truly are a modern marvel.
Insert your ATM card, withdraw, and now the order of your day can proceed. However, their lack of functioning has an unparalleled uniqueness to the timing and impact. There have been occasions where the ATM gives a lesser amount than what was requested.
I’ve experienced them turning off during a transaction, making it unclear if I’ve been charged. Even if I had, standing in the rain, which is always the case, is a joy; watching machines give me error codes such as ‘Error 7482,’ is an absolute treat.
Error XD-5. Error: Unexpected Error. These are some of the dumbest things I’ve ever encountered.
What never fails to bother is whether I am getting charged which ATM machines apparently don’t allow. The feeling of being stuck is at maximum when experiencing ‘ATM amnesia.’ The irony lies in the fact that these machines appearing so civilized, fail to do the simplest thing, acknowledge your existence. Should my smartphone act up, I can easily take several steps to fix the issue—a single click to restart, update the software, or reaching out to support.
The scenario changes completely in the case of vehicles. While they can call a mechanic when, the moment a car breaks down, it starts sounding good. In the case of an ATM, the moment it decides to forget my existence is where the fallacy lies. Recourse options turn into zero, especially when it’s past banking hours. Pity these machines appear to be automatic elevators until they suddenly go out of order.
Monday was the day my card decided to ghost me. Waiting for the bank to open allows me some peace, yet it feels futile. To my surprise, wait was worth the effort as the teller claimed; ‘Yes, my card’s been discovered. Regretfully, it cannot be retrieved.’ What do these lunatics mean forcing captors to dismantle cards?! Why must I burn these funds disguised as lifelong torment in case I wish to breathe again within the next 7-10 business days?
Seven to ten business days? That is one and a half weeks of not being able to access my money just because a device decided to malfunction for a brief moment. Sure, I could go into the bank and withdraw cash during business hours, but that removes the entire intention of having a debit card.
I am sure other individuals have their unique versions of this story. Everyone has an ATM horror story. Like the ATM that for some reason, dispensed twenty dollar bills instead of fifty dollar bills and caused chaos in terms of budgeting and finances.
These recurring scenarios are not just roads bumps; they’re violations of the trust we’ve put into financial technology. The discrepancy between the amount an ATM shows on screen versus the number reflected on the receipt is shocking. Not to mention, the foreign ATM machine that has the audacity to charge conversion fees and surcharges that are nothing short of theft.
Our society has agree to adopt a cashless economy, but only under the concession that technology would be dependable. That is what makes the situation with the bank so concerning after they issued me a temporary card. Their lack of foresight feels like getting handed a bicycle when your car breaks down. Of course a bicycle is better than being stranded, but that’s not really what you signed up for.
Walking out of the bank newly opened account in hand, I started to consider how sensitive people have become to the effects of modern technology. It feels like our wealth is mere information and not real at all. Accessing it is a payment machine we pray will acknowledge us, as more often than not, the reality is doors don’t ever open. Obviously the answer isn’t to give up technology, and go back to the times of gold coins and cash-suited padded beds.
The existence of modern banking concepts may provide practical benefits, but that does not mean we have to defend systems that put so much distance between us. Suggesting that modern financial technology frees up our time while simultaneously needing sufficient manpower to aid automation is weird.
Now, not only should there be consideration towards the usefulness of the machines, but also more attention is needed towards what happens when they stop functioning. So this means we should all assume personal financial responsibility and store cash at home too. But then again, maybe I am just overthinking it.
My experience may just be the result of unfortunate luck, an anomaly figment in a functional system. However, with the familiar smirks I receive as I narrate the story, I have good reason to believe ATM amnesia is far more widespread than the Gen Z slaying all stereotypes of banking makes it look. Next time you are waiting at an ATM for your transaction to be completed, try to imagine the wonderful interplay of technology and trust that you are a part of.
And perhaps already have a contingency plan for the instances when you are rendered invisible. From a more pragmatic lens now – the machines are made for us and specifically optimized to ease our perform financial actions and should seamlessly identify our presence. Why then do they repeatedly fail to recognize the very basics of their existence?
To me, it is so baffling it leaves me sans words. The machines’ failures to complete their core functions is, at the very worst, a dereliction on their end, but an utter failure on the machines behalf to prove their existence. I have started to maintain a small bank of cash for these ATM moments.
I keep a secondary card at home and safely tucked away. I’ve made peace with the existence of machines, such as ATMs, pretending I do not exist and contrived plans on how to deal with such specific occurrences. This form of adaptation to the infrequent remembrance of machines designed to remember is baffling to say the least.
However, in a world where the boundaries of technology are constantly pushed further, trust, but verify becomes the only rational way to navigate the world. Keep a backup plan in the event the robots fail to remember your name.
