My Two Cents Worth

Who says you can't teach an old dog new tricks? Why, I've become adept enough that I monitor my banking activity online, thank you very much. I've even learned to get comfortable with and use the ATM in the lobby of my bank. I make deposits and withdrawals all by my lonesome. It's what the bank wants, to not deal with Marty directly. Likely enough most folks don't want to deal with me. Beat you to the punch, Ron.

But technology is not without its issues, and I had one yesterday while banking. The first machine failed to work properly. It wasn't my fault, the bank employees assured me. They'd been having trouble with that particular ATM all day. Moving to the next machine, everything worked fine.

But in checking my bank account online this morning I noticed an unexpected deposit for, I am not making this up, two cents. Yes, two Lincoln coppers. Two entire pennies. The explanation was that it was an interest payment, an apology of sorts, for my trouble with that first ATM. 

So you ain't gotta worry about Marty's two cents no more. It's laying right in the bank. But if you upset me enough I may still give it to you anyway.

Cancelled (Not What You Think)

As do many of you out there in the ether, I routinely check my debit card use for all the obvious precautionary reasons. And yesterday morning there was a purchase which I did not recognize. It was for the whopping amount of $1.77. Not all that much; next to nothing these days, really.

But still, principle is principle, and why should I be held liable for even a paltry sum which I did not authorize? Even if it were somehow an honest error, I shouldn't have to pay it, right? Going to my computer, I logged onto my account and doth didst protest.

After entering all the pertinent information a summary page came up, asking if everything about my complaint appeared correct. Seeing that it did, I clicked next. And then I received a message saying thank you, your card has been cancelled, you will receive a new one within seven days.

No! I didn't want that! I just wanted the stupid buck seventy seven refunded. Now I'm without my debit card for a week.

Maybe I should have expected that; it does make sense as a measure against fraud. Yet doggone it, now I'll have to actually go into the gas station to pay for my gas and all that nonsense. I'll have to physically enter a bank to make deposits and withdrawals rather than find a convenient ATM. Rats.

I suppose I'm better off this way, but, again, rats. I'd almost rather have ignored the small charge. I guess that would have been dangerous, though.

Daily Stretches

I've become quite comfortable banking at drive up ATMs. But it strikes me that many of you are not.

I cannot tell you how often I'll be sitting in my new old van behind someone who can't seem to grasp the concept of proximity. For myself, I creep close enough to the machine that I can work it without difficulty. Indeed, I typically don't even need to anywhere near fully extend my arm to insert my card, checks, or retrieve cash. I situate myself where I can work comfortably. But others apparently have this strong, strange desire to get in a workout at the ATM.

They certainly get their stretching in. They have to stretch because they've parked in the next county trying to use the machine. And stretch they do. I wonder if it's a game, a hip new fad that I'm missing, to be exactly far enough from the ATM that you must extend your arm fully, and possibly even dislocate your shoulder, to use the very tips of your fingers to put your debit card in the slot. Then they actually - I am not making this up - bounce in their car seat at the last instant to give their fingers that last little jolt necessary to slide the card all the way in so that the unit can read it. Their PIN numbers must be combinations of 1, 2, and 3 because I don't think they can reach the higher numbers on the keypad.

Sometimes drivers give up on that and climb half out of their cars, their waistline supported by the bottom of the window frame as they reach towards the ATM, just so that they can transact their banking. It's silly. It's stupid. You may as well as have walked up to it.

But what do I know? And it can be kind of funny.