Due to a boring series of events that lead to the misplacement of my debit card, followed by one of my perfectly good credit cards getting inexplicably declined the very next day, I have felt very devalued the last few days. It's not that my self-worth is tied up in money (which would be sad), it's that my sense of power and freedom is tied up in money (which is just as sad, but not unfounded).
In an attempt to have something in hand (greenbacks) in order to give me a greater sense of security in my monetary worth (cash never gets declined), I went to the bank today to obtain a temporary ATM card, which is something Bank of America offers while you wait for your new check card to come in. It doesn't give you debit access but does give you access to cash via ATM machines. I usually never carry cash, but I figure it's better than credit cards or (gasp!) writing checks for the next however many days/weeks it takes for my new card to get to me.
I went inside the the bank for maybe the third time ever in more than four years of living here; I spent 15 minutes with a teller and made away with my temporary card, no sweat.
Then came the gawd-awful touch screen ATM. Only fellow BoA customers know my pain; 90% of the time, the touchscreens don't work as expected or don't work at all. In this case, because I had a brand new card, it wanted me to choose my “ATM customizations“, beginning with my language. I pressed English.
Nothing. I pressed it again and again. After a period of time in which the machine felt there was no response from me, it asked me if I would like more time. the only way I could get it to respond for my request for more time was to press enter on the actual goddamn keypad.
I went through this song and dance with my Automatic Teller four times before leaving the building and walking around to the red-headed stepchild ATM in the back, which, while ghetto fantastic in only two colors and no “customizations“, at least has real buttons that fucking work. I mean really.
The machine being a little out of date, I had some slight trouble getting it to take my card at first, but eventually I got it going and we were well on our way. No selecting languages, no looking at mortgage advertisements while they “process my transaction” just PIN, Fast Cash, and Amount. Get the the cash(! yey!) and grab the card... which seemed to be stuck in the machine.
“Thank you for visiting. Please enter your card to continue.” The black screen mocked me with it's lime green 16-bit illustrations of a chubby hand feeding a card into a hungry, devouring ATM. My card was no where to be found. Frustrated, I threw my hands into the air and screamed “FUCK IT!”. I turned to walk to work, gesticulating and speaking to no one in particular as I strode angrily down the sidewalk. “I GIVE UP!”
This is really one of those stories that works better out loud; one can amplify the importance and entertainment of otherwise mundane details with tone, sarcasm, and general merriment. I told this story to coworkers or sets of coworkers at different times throughout my day and was met with great empathy, and laughter. I actually got all the frustration about my ever-increasingly ridiculous plastic situation out in the course of the conversations, and I would normally not even write out a “better-out-loud” story, the exception being made tonight to expose one significant, potentially narrative-altering detail: in the course of balancing my checkbook this evening, what I found, in my wallet and in perfectly plain sight in a clear vinyl pocket—that damn temporary ATM card that was “eaten” by the ghetto machine.
Remember, I was standing at the ATM when I decided I had been taken. This was probably only a moment after I took the card from the machine with my own hands and placed it back in my wallet. The thing is, I have absolutely no recollection of this happening. If I were to believe my own memory instead of the clear physical evidence in front of me, I would still swear that my card was eaten, as I clearly remember being enraged and frustrated by the whole course of events. It doesn't feel fuzzy at all; it feels completely lucid and true. A lucid and true event where I apparently blacked out for 10 seconds at 10:15 in the morning.
What can we conclude from this? I don't know if it's a mark of stress or just plain lunacy, but the fact is, Jenna Tollerson is loosing it.
