Driving past don’t-know-where in Islamabad, my friends and I decided to have some McFlurry at the F-10 McDonald’s (locally pronounced “em see donalds”) joint. Problem was (locally pronounced “poblum”), we were out of dough (locally pronounced “duff”).
So as my friend stopped at a gas station to get some gas (for his car), I got out to look for a nearby ATM machine. Luckily enough, there was one right beside the station’s quick-mart. As I approached the ATM booth, the reflection on the glass door faded away to reveal a most confusing sight. In the small hollow column inside the booth where an ATM machine should have been was an empty water-gallon and above the gallon was the black and white portrait of a familiar looking man, whose eyes seemed to be staring into my soul. I looked at the sign above. “24-hour ATM”, it said.
“Sure”, I thought. “So how does this work? I go in, show the guy in the portrait my card and ask for money?”
I thought of having a word with whoever was in charge there, telling them to take the misleading sign down and replace it with a new one saying “24-hour invisible ATM”. I didn’t though. It would’ve been a waste of time. He probably would have ignored the advice and blamed the whole state-of-things on the Jews.