Just when it seemed like I had nothing to write about today, the outlet known as “life” gave me something that might seem remotely interesting to at least one or two of my six readers.
I have a tendency to sit on cash sometimes. Sometimes it’s because no reason other than I simply don’t want to take the time to go a bank or ATM to deposit it, other times it’s like a mental challenge; like if I can operate my regularly scheduled life without X dollars in my account, I can always fall back onto this cash as something of a safety net.
Regardless, I spent a little bit of money that warranted me deciding to put the cash back into my bank account to cover for some of the expenditures, grant a little bit of breathing room and give me a little bit of peace of mind. So I went to an ATM to deposit the cash, and a hundred dollar bill kept getting spit out by the ATM. I tried it three times, to no avail. My skepticism was immediately piqued at that point, but there was also the remote possibility that it was ATM sensitivity.