Monday, March 5, 2012
Sunday evening, lunch time. I'm on my way back from celebrating Dr. Pepper Sunday (the one day of the week when I allow myself to consume soda) when I remember I need to grab cash for the week ahead. I've got enough time and this Wells Fargo happens to be the best Wells Fargo in the world since the parking lot is massive and it's never crowded. Not on Fridays, not on the first of the month. It is an island to itself, a fiscal oasis.
Leisurely, I advance to the drive-thru ATM. Here's where it gets tricky. There are two drive-thru ATM boxes with one car at each station. I pull up and into the center just behind both of them. Because there is ample room and absolutely no lines that would dictate you having to commit to either lane, I patiently wait centered in the middle. A reasonable decision that would be self-evident to anyone pulling up behind me.
Unless you are this asshole:
Even though I arrived first and should have first pick of the stations, the guy behind me decides to swerve in crooked and ignore the line queue I have created. I understand the need to want to commit to a line because it may seem more orderly, but in the case of a spacious drive-thru ATM it creates anarchy.
Now before you take my fiance's side (who disagrees with my stance in this matter and refuses to marry me unless I change my position) I want you to ask yourself this question: How can you predict which car has the old person in it? You know, the one who thinks they're at Burger King and can be overheard trying to order a Whopper Jr. with extra pickles. The answer is that you can't predict anything because all you can see is a shadow of hair through a back windshield. That's the purpose of the queue, first come first served. If the guy on the left finishes first, then you go left. If the one on the right finishes first, go right.
Confused, I gesture over to the guy with arms fully extended. Now it's clear; a Larry David-like situation is about to occur. The guy who swerved in front and picked a lane got to the ATM before me and I got forced to the right, stuck for ten minutes behind Ms. Daisy who couldn't figure out why her AARP membership card wasn't accepted.
Weigh in on this great debate in the comments section below. So long!