My brother paid me for my current dog-sitting gig by leaving a personal check on the living room table. I went out last night to deposit the check at a local PNC ATM... and the goddamn machine ate my card. I successfully completed the deposit, the machine started clicking, whirring, growling, and then... nada. I stood there in the rain, like an idiot, for two or three minutes before I finally admitted defeat. I went back into my car, tried calling PNC Customer Service, and got a recording saying to call back during normal business hours. As my Kiwi buddy John might say, this fucked me off.
So I got up an hour earlier than usual, prepped myself for my workday, and drove back to that PNC branch to get my damn card back. The process was quick and painless: I showed my ID to a teller; he sauntered over to the ATM, pulled the card out of the machine's ass, and handed it to me. Mission accomplished.
One hell of a morning.
_
Tuesday, August 21, 2012
lost and found
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