Divine Intervention

This happened a while ago, but I think it deserves a place in this blog. Because it was uncanny and spooky, yet remarkably joyful. I had about RM5 in my wallet and was going for lunch with my friend and colleague Sue-Ann. So there we are strolling along to the ATM machines and I move to the CIMB machine and proceed with my transaction.

All smooth.

Then I hear Sue-Ann swear and turn to notice her regarding the RHB ATM machine as if it's some sort of ugly black snake, writhing around on red hot coals.

She has inserted her card.

But it says "Please insert card."

You see the problem.

We start pressing all the buttons on the machine. To no avail. It displays various screens (mostly ads) and then one, with a number to call if the machine has swallowed your card.

One problem, however.

It's an RHB machine. The card is a Public Bank card.

So when Sue-Ann finally gets through, the customer care consultant (sic) on the other end proceeds to tell her that sorry, it's not their problem. Call Public Bank.

Sue-Ann is getting more and more agitated. Understandably. We exist in an age where the lack of your ATM card is nothing short of catastrophic. And here is the person saying...sorry, call Public Bank.

Observing this drama, pressing buttons futilely on the machine, I get a gentle prompting.

"Stick your card in."

I shake my fist at gentle prompting.

"Are you crazy? My card will get swallowed up too. It will achieve nothing except for both of us to be pissed. And ATM card-less. Not a good state to be in KL."

And the prompting continues.

"Stick your card in."

I open my wallet and consider. There's the Maybank card (which I can more afford to lose). There's the Public Bank card (which I can't). There's my new Christmas Starbucks card (but the machine will know it's not an ATM card, wrong proportions).

So keeping tight hold of the Maybank card, I prod it into the card slot. And then take it out.

A miracle occurs. A prompt comes up on the screen.

Enter your PIN number.

Sue-Ann is still arguing with bimbo on phone. I nudge her. "Sue Ann, enter your number."

She does...and then proceeds to withdraw her money like it was all OK, and not a scene straight out of quick descent into hell like it was two minutes ago.

We're both gobsmacked. Sue-Ann laughs, relieved.

"Lunch is on me," she says.