However, the real fun begins when one transacts within an ATM booth. One of my acquaintances found the machine as लाबाड़ (cunning). While he was able to correctly remember and execute the withdrawal procedure, he was dumbfounded to motive the machine swallow back his money. He was busy then directing the cool AC wind into his soaked shirt, he told me later. Next, he tried manipulating the vault mouth in case he could pull the money out of the throat of the machine. The same fellow has earlier complained of the machine swallowing his ATM card too. In that instance, he had punched the PIN incorrectly; 1234, 0000, 7925 in that order (the last one being a pure तुक्का). Now, he had certainly not forgotten the PIN. He honestly didn't know about any such number. When inquired about the adjoining literature that had come with the card he replied with a wide grin that he had handed it to his better half, who duly used it in the tiffin box, in lieu of the exorbitantly expensive foil. A septuagenarian, however, broke all records. On his occasional visit at our apartment, he spelt out all possible expletives for the machine. The reason was quite understandable. The bank clerk has shown him his account balance: nil, wiped clean. He had forgotten to collect back his card from the machine. For ease of remembering, he had neatly written the PIN on the 'useful' space provided on the back of the card.
Things happen other way round too. Once in a multiple machine booth, a 7 1/2 tall Briton was fumbling. As he asked for help, I followed the on-screen instructions. He, of course, punched the PIN - alas, his one finger covered the entire keyboard - and entered the amount: 6000. The machine informed it as indispensable amount. I raced my mind and suffixed two more zeros (the decimals), in the next attempt. He looked at me and then again back at the figure, and blinked. When he pushed 'OK', the machine responded with same error. Giving a last try, almost half-heartedly, the big fellow re entered 6000. And the motors rolled!! I almost died of the impact his hand (!) made on my fragile collarbone which I figured out as his manner of exhibiting exuberance. While exiting he quipped, 'It must he software. Isn't it?' I managed a smile.
Kids, though rarely, utter something intelligent. My younger sibling once demonstrated so when she observed the notes being offered from the machine. After exiting, I found her explaining her father to carry the ATM right into the kitchen garden; it would be easy for her then, to buy chocolates & ilk without pesky surveillance of mother, she deduced.
The latest one was the best though. A burly Punjabi discovered a machine out of order. He immediately coached the security guard, 'ओये! First reboot and then reinstall the machine. It will be perfectly fine then.'
