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.