Entry tags:
Two silhouettes by the cash machine make a lovers dance
Last week I ambled up to a cashpoint and started the process of acquiring money. While doing so, I noticed that the guy at the nextdoor cashpoint was prying part of the plastic fascia off with a screwdriver.
Gosh, I thought. I'm not sure he should be doing that.
Then I noticed that he had on a fluorescent orange jacket. Like most of the world, I have ( orange jacket syndrome ), so I decided it was probably fine.
Although he did have a bag at his feet, an ordinary, rather 80's-looking, shopper, not the toolbox I might expect from someone fixing an ATM. Which was a bit weird. Maybe he was wise to the game, and was indeed committing crimes in broad daylight and relying on his high-visibility to make sure no one saw him.
As he turned to reach something in his bag, I saw blazoned across the back of his jacket: ATM SANITISER. A what now? Clearly a candidate for B-Ark if ever there was one.
Then I looked at what he was doing, using a piece of stiff plastic to scrape acumulated dust, grease, and fag ash from the corners of the ATM. And I looked at my machine, all sparkly clean. And I got my cash out, and said thank you to him, and went on my way.
That's a job I'd never even realised existed. But I'm really rather glad he's doing it.
Gosh, I thought. I'm not sure he should be doing that.
Then I noticed that he had on a fluorescent orange jacket. Like most of the world, I have ( orange jacket syndrome ), so I decided it was probably fine.
Although he did have a bag at his feet, an ordinary, rather 80's-looking, shopper, not the toolbox I might expect from someone fixing an ATM. Which was a bit weird. Maybe he was wise to the game, and was indeed committing crimes in broad daylight and relying on his high-visibility to make sure no one saw him.
As he turned to reach something in his bag, I saw blazoned across the back of his jacket: ATM SANITISER. A what now? Clearly a candidate for B-Ark if ever there was one.
Then I looked at what he was doing, using a piece of stiff plastic to scrape acumulated dust, grease, and fag ash from the corners of the ATM. And I looked at my machine, all sparkly clean. And I got my cash out, and said thank you to him, and went on my way.
That's a job I'd never even realised existed. But I'm really rather glad he's doing it.