Standing at a checkout counter with a cart of groceries in one arm and my money, a newly minted Twenty dollar bill, folded nicely between my fingers,in the other, I waited in cue. In front of me, a lady stood feverishly pushing the buttons of the ATM with her thumbs, looking down at the LED display waiting for the message to change. Behind me, the lineup was now four people. I stood there, looking up, then look at the magazine stand, then at the lady who now was waiting to pay for her goods, now looking more worried as the console displayed “error” across it. My hands were getting tired from holding the handheld shopping cart. The people standing behind me were getting impatient. I looked at the cashier who was trying her best to smile and not look worried, turned her head away from me as if I was going to throw a look of heated displeasure at her: and she did not want to catch it. It was tents. The ATM was down and there was nothing anyone could do about it. Someone blurted out that the Bank Machine was down too. I could hear moans from behind me. The cashier then shouted out, “anyone who is paying with cash please come this till.” I showed the cashier my money and she cleared the scale which was piled from the poor lady’s stuff, who was still waiting for the ATM to magically awaken and complete the transaction. I hurriedly placed my items on the conveyor-belt, then I stepped passed the lady. I could feel her anger as I passed behind her torso. The cashier quickly ran my items through the till, and then I placed the bill in her hands. The transaction was so quick that before I could close my fingers, she had the change dropping into my palm. When I took the bags from the till, I looked for a moment at the poor Lady who was still waiting, and I felt pity. I felt pity because all she had was a little plastic card, that, for that critical moment, was all she had.