File this under “This shit only happens to me.”
I lost my money in an ATM machine. It didn’t forget to give it to me, it didn’t eat my card, it didn’t even run out of money. I somehow lost my grip on the twenty-dollar bills and they slid back into the dispenser just as the slot closed, in a twisted homage to Indiana Jones. No receipt to verify my transaction, nothing to indicate I didn’t actually receive my money.
First some background. This all happened at the Washington Mutual ATM on 13th Street and Broadway on Saturday afternoon. No alcohol was involved. And it is the worst ATM ever constructed. It’s a cruel joke that’s probably being filmed for a blooper show on TV. It’s a very simple formula for disaster:
- Take one of the most popular hubs in the city (i.e. Union Square)
- Add one well-advertised, no-fee ATM, with only one machine
- Designate single-digit square footage for the floor
- Make all doors open inwards to ensure hitting at least one hapless patron
Voila, there you have, without hyperbole, the worst ATM in Western Civilization. (I can only assume the ATMs in Zimbabwe put this one to shame.) There is without fail always a line that snakes around the perimeter of the miniscule vestibule, like a python in a shoebox swallowing its tail. I’m amazed that this many people standing around in a circle doesn’t lead to spontaneous games of Duck, Duck, Goose.
Anyway, back to my miserable account. The money was locked safely away from its rightful owner, and I wanted to get it back. There was a line of irate people, trying to get to dinner dates and make movie show times so I had to think fast. I made another withdrawal because a) I only had 20 bucks and b) wanted to fish out the confiscated funds. So I ask the ATM for another $40 and instead of taking it, I dig in with my index fingers. My flesh is tearing against springs and screws and got knows what other small machinery. There’s a crowd of onlookers wondering what this sure-to-be-Bellevue-escapee is doing. I can see President Jackson staring at me up through the tiny slit. I was expecting alarms to go off, but I’m sure this eventuality never even crossed the designer’s minds. Or maybe it did, because the money was just out of reach of even my longer-than-average index fingers.
Before I can get the bill out, the machine sucks the other untouched $40 back in. At least I was able to withdraw my fingers, because I knew the machine wanted them too. It already had my money, and my pride. I couldn’t let it have my pointing finger. At this point I’m pleading my case to the other people in line.
“It keeps snatching my money, what do I do?”
Someone suggested calling the bank on the phone next to the ATM. I didn’t think it would actually work given my luck that day.
Miraculously, I get the operator without a problem. I ask him to read off the transactions that just I had just transacted. He reads off the first withdrawal, the one that went horribly awry, the second withdrawal, the rescue attempt, a deposit, the money beating a hasty retreat, and… another withdrawal! It made that one up entirely! I’m already out like 80 bucks and it just adds more insult to more injury. A great, big, steaming heap of insult and injury. Since the bank was closed over the weekend the operator said I had to come back in person on Monday morning and talk to the bank manager.
Stay tuned…
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