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Anti Technology Males (ATMs)

I do not know why but I suddenly had the urge to leave the house by lunch and go elsewhere yesterday. Maybe it's the heat or the mess in my study, or the need to be around strangers and being lost in a crowd; no matter, I decided to go to Eastwood at the drop of a hat. (Pure impulsiveness is like an adrenaline shot in the heart.)

I brought my books and note cards with me, some essays in case I got bored with Hegel and Kierkegaard, and, with only spare cash on me, decided that it will be a different day. First thing I did when I got there was to withdraw some cash from the ATM.

Now, this might be run-of-the-mill for most; this was, however, a gargantuan task for me. I do not know how to operate such things. The last time I withdrew from an ATM was when I was in college and, because of my stupidity, the machine ate my card. So I was nervous as a pianist who tries to keep her fingers from shaking as she performs in her first concert.

Naturally, when it was my turn (there was a short line), I fumbled and did not understand why it gave my card back so quickly. I thought my card was rejected. Woe to me, I thought--no money and my card was something an automaton would spit out in front of other people.

So I went to the back of the line again. (How embarrassing!) But this time, even though it was uncomfortable, I watched those before me on how they skillfully operated the darn thing, and even asked a woman to help. Not all men are afraid to ask directions you see. I'll never withdraw again. It's just too much stress.



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