Okay, show of hands:  Who else gets nervous at cash machines?

No, I’m not the person who obsesses over someone running up and robbing them the second cash comes out of the machine.  That’s a little far-fetched even for me.

I’m the person who freaks out over making the person behind me wait.

I swear, I’m moving as fast as I can.  Cash and card are out before I even approach the machine.  Card: In!  Ready to go!

And then the machine, which has no respect for someone with social anxiety… sits there.  It asks for the passcode, I give it the passcode.

It sits there.

At this point, I’ve been there for a while, and I’m starting to wonder what the person behind me looks like.  Of course, I can’t turn around, because they might think I’m leaving and get mad at me when I don’t.

So I start imagining them.

The machine asks for my cash, I give it my cash.

It sits there.

The seven-foot-tall, heavily muscled guy with the machine gun waits for me.

The touch screen stops working.

Now, you’d think I would drop everything and panic, but it’s cool.  I’ve been in this situation before, and I know that you can hit ‘enter’ for ‘yes’ and ‘cancel’ for ‘no’ on the keypad.  The only problem:  What if the guy behind me thinks I’m making another deposit, or transferring money, or…

So I hit the touch screen a few more times before my fear of looking like an idiot for not being able to make the screen work outweighs my fear of the guy behind me attacking, and I do a few things with the keypad.

Give me back my card.

The lights start flashing.  The hour is nigh.

The card emerges, and I get the hell out of there.

Oh, and the person behind me?  Turns out it was a hunched-over old lady and her fluffball of a dog.

My bad.

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