By cashpoint user Nathan Muir
WE’VE seen you many times. A*sing about vaguely on the pavement near a cashpoint machine, all of a sudden wondering why people are glowering at you.
You’re just minding your own business. And yet, it seems, you have questions to answer.
You’ve managed to situate yourself just far enough away that it’s not clear if you want to take money out or you’re some sort of suspicious loiterer.
Irritation is growing against you. You’re buried deep in the contents of your phone and two loud ‘harrumphs’ have failed to alert you to the discomfiture of your fellow queuers.
Are you in the queue? Or are you hovering about waiting for something, maybe a male or female prostitute of some kind who uses the HSBC cashpoint as a location to turn tricks?
Finally people are forced to ask. At this point you try three cards and after being rejected for £100, £50 and £30, eventually withdraw £10.
You take ages faffing about. And still they can’t be sure – were you in the f*cking queue or not?
