| Men are marvelous. They crawl under cars and do things that are abhorrent to me. Grease under their fingernails doesn't faze them in the least. A clogged drain and they are at their best. Hammering and nailing appear to be second nature.
For the most part, the masculine gender still possess the great hunter, the keeper of the tribe demeanor. That is, until they meet their nemesis. The ATM machine.
The civilized Tarzan, wild man of the jungle, will look at this seemingly harmless machine and go immediately brain-dead. The man who can design and build great infra-structures, or a backyard bar-b-que perfectly, will attempt to put the small plastic card into the machine in at least five different angles which is remarkable, considering it only has four sides. Finally, he will turn the card over and try all five angles again, miraculously having the machine finally grab it out of his grease stained muscular hand. At this point, I have ceased the finger tapping and began the eye rolling and the foot tapping.
Once the card has been devoured, the evil eye of the screen will light up and luminescent words will appear. The modern day warrior will look at this in sheer bafflement. This is something you can't hammer, throw under the bed, in the closet, or eat. So, I sit and watch, as the great keeper of his domain sits in his truck with a deer in the headlight look on his face waiting for something to happen.
Minutes have slowly ticked by before he realizes he might have to do something. Reaching out his arm, he, with great trepidation, pushes on the screen. Nothing happens. He has seen others push on the screen, so he attempts again. Still nothing. Finally, he thinks maybe he should push on one of the boxes on the screen. Voile'! A new screen. Yes! A triumphant look passes over his face. A coup. He wants money. A bounty to be had if only he knew how. So, he sits. He looks. He thinks.
I begin to mumble under my breath. Deciding that touching the screen was a good idea, he touches it again. One hundred. That is a good sum. The machine whirrs and his eyebrows go up, his flight or fight mode quickly arises. With nothing else to arm himself with, he grabs his wallet. He can poke it in the eye if it gets to aggressive. The machine spits his card back back at him and he jerks away.
Then, he realizes, the gladiator of the roadway, that a card can't hurt him and he takes it. A most marvelous thing then occurs. Money comes out to him. He takes it counting it. Then counting it again. Then again. And again.
At this point I am wondering if my car could get up to 70mph in the car length i have behind him. Perhaps, if he knocked his head into the window, he might stop counting. Finally, he puts the money into the wallet. I take my foot off the break ecstatic that I can get my twenty dollars for the shoes that are on sale.
However, it is then that the Super hero notices the paper flapping in the wind. Thinking it might be an award of some sort for his valor, he takes it out of the machine and stares at it. Then, he turns it the right way and reads it. This, of course, is highly valuable, so he leans to the left to pull his wallet out again. Carefully folding it, he places it in with the other 20 pieces of carefully folded paper he will never look at again.
I watch as he drives off thinking this is the stronger sex. Before he gets out of the parking lot, I have my money, my receipt and heading out behind him. I can only imagine his shock and dismay when he realizes that the money dispensing monster machine actually takes money out of his account!