Atm Quotes

What if he's a psychopath who tries to stuff kittens in ATMs?

My currency is kindness, and while there are no ATMs that dispense it, it’s also not accepted or recognized at strip clubs.

> I was at an ATM and this old lady asked me to help check her balance,  > So I pushed her over.

If you wanna make friends at the ATM, do the creep.

SinnerThree: … Tell me more about lobster sex, if you want. I’m not picky about sex talk as long as someone’s fucking. I laugh softly. This guy’s funny, I’ll give him that. LobsterShorts: I’m fresh out of lobster sex facts atm. BUT…lemme tell you about sea slugs. SinnerThree: Omg yes. I can’t wait for this. Hold on. Let me undo my pants.

How humans love plundering a forest, like spoiled children with their parents' ATM cards and no concept of moderation

In Venezuela Chavez has made the co-ops a top political priority, giving them first refusal on government contracts and offering them economic incentives to trade with one another. By 2006, there were roughly 100,000 co-operatives in the country, employing more than 700,000 workers. Many are pieces of state infrastructure – toll booths, highway maintenance, health clinics – handed over to the communities to run. It’s a reverse of the logic of government outsourcing – rather than auctioning off pieces of the state to large corporations and losing democratic control, the people who use the resources are given the power to manage them, creating, at least in theory, both jobs and more responsive public services. Chavez’s many critics have derided these initiatives as handouts and unfair subsidies, of course. Yet in an era when Halliburton treats the U.S. government as its personal ATM for six years, withdraws upward of $20 billion in Iraq contracts alone, refuses to hire local workers either on the Gulf coast or in Iraq, then expresses its gratitude to U.S. taxpayers by moving its corporate headquarters to Dubai (with all the attendant tax and legal benefits), Chavez’s direct subsidies to regular people look significantly less radical.

A pill mill was a pain-management clinic, staffed by a doctor with little more than a prescription pad. A pill mill became a virtual ATM for dope as the doctor issued prescriptions to hundreds of people a day.

New Rule: If you get to serve me a quarter-head of lettuce with dressing on it, which proves you could have made a salad but chose not to, then I get to pay you with an ATM receipt, which proves I have the money but you're not getting any.

New Rule: You can't force the ATM to do something it doesn't want to do. Excuse me, lady in front of me at the Citibank ATM, but you've been standing there punching buttons for ten minutes--what are you trying to do, write a novel on it? You hear those beeping noises? That's the ATM saying, "Stop it, you're hurting me." A chicken would have gotten forty bucks out of that thing by now just by pecking the buttons randomly.

With Sofiya’s warm body pressed against mine in bed, guilt gnawed atme. Could I really fail this innocent girl? She was like a damsel in distress, a lamb among wolves. Shit. I was supposed to be the wolf she feared.

You were a town with one pay phone and someone else was using it. You were an ATM temporarily unable to dispense cash. You were an outdated link and the server was down. You were invisible to the naked eye. You were the two insect parts per million allowed in peanut butter. You were a car wash that me as dirty as when I pulled in. You were twenty rotting bags of rice in the hold of a cargo plane sitting on the runway in a drought-riddled country. You were one job opening for two hundred applicants and you paid minimum wage. You were grateful for my submission but you just couldn't use it. You weren't a Preferred Provider. You weren't giving any refunds. You weren't available for comment. Your grave wasn't marked so I wandered the cementary for hours, part of the grass, part of the crumbling stones.

There was nothing in his pockets except paper money and an expired passport and an ATM card and a clip-together toothbrush.

I hear swinging in commando style is all rage among interstellar murder squads atm.

Think before you speak. Don’t be an asshole. Show kindness when it’s warranted and walk away when it costs you more than you’re willing to give. Don’t be an ATM that people can take from but never deposit into. Be a depositor. And always, always give your best only to those that deserve it.

I love L.A. It's a great, sprawling, spread-to-hell city that protects us by its sheer size. Four hundred sixty-five square miles. Eleven million beating hearts in Los Angeles County, documented and not. Eleven million. What are the odds? The girl raped beneath the Hollywood sign isn't your sister, the boy back-stroking in a red pool isn't your son, the splatter patterns on the ATM machine are sourceless urban art. We're safe that way. When it happens it's going to happen to someone else.

Now there are some things we all know, but we don't take'm out and look at'm very often. We all know that something is eternal. And it ain't houses and it ain't names, and it ain't earth, and it ain't even the stars… everybody knows in their bones that something is eternal, and that something has to do with human beings. All the greatest people ever lived have been telling us that for five thousand years and yet you'd be surprised how people are always losing hold of it. There's something way down deep that's eternal about every human being.

I once saw two endangered species about to have sex, but I had to put a stop to it because I suspected one of them of being a prostitute. Then I went to the ATM and took out some cash just to be certain.

As a child I assumed that when I reached adulthood, I would have grown-up thoughts. By this I meant that I would stop living in a fantasy world; that, while standing in line for a hamburger or my shot at the ATM, I would not daydream about befriending a gorilla or inventing a pill that would make hair waterproof.

My desire was a galloping thing, and her touch, unlike that of boys, didn't snuff it out. If my body had been a passive machine from which men made withdrawals, like an ATM whose code they were handed on the day of their first erection, then with her it was a winning slot machine, screaming jangly music and spewing coins.

Pressed to identify useful financial innovations created during the past quarter-century, Paul A. Volcker, former Federal Reserve Chairman and recent chairman of President Obama’s Economic Recovery Board, could single out only one: “The ATM.

Some of us get smaller denominations from the romance ATM than others. In addition to the flings, I’d had about fifteen five-month relationships, not to mention the six- and nine-month relationships, not to mention the on-and-off ones that came to life in the night like haunted toaster ovens: You up?

I've taped a list to my bathroom mirror. It's my Most Violated List. . . Anger. I gave the finger to an ATM. You see, the ATM charged me a $1.75 fee for withdrawl. A dollar seventy-five? That's bananas. So I flipped off the screen. As Julie tells me, when you start making rude gestures to inanimate objects, it's time to work on your anger issues. Mine is not the shouting, pulsing-vein-in-the forehead rage. Like my dad, I rarely raise my voice. My anger problem is more one of long-lasting resentment. It's a heap of real or perceived slights that eventually build up into a mountain of bitterness. . . get some perspective. . . I ask myself the question God asked Jonah. 'Do you do well to be angry?'. . .The world will not end. . . Mute your petty resentment.

Great leaders do not movitate people, they inspire them.

Sie atmet leise. Ich atme mit ihr zusammen, auch leise,[...]

But that's not normal, Dex. You just robbed an ATM.

The Diebold company, which also manufactures ATMs, should not receive another dime until it can produce a voting system that is similarly reliable.

If we are going to create a financial system that works for all Americans, we have got to stop financial institutions from ripping off the American people by charging sky-high interest rates and outrageous fees. In my view, it is unacceptable that Americans are paying a $4 or $5 fee each time they go to the ATM. It is unacceptable that millions of Americans are paying credit card interest rates of 20 or 30 percent. The Bible has a term for this practice. It’s called usury. And in The Divine Comedy, Dante reserved a special place in the Seventh Circle of Hell for those who charged people usurious interest rates. Today, we don’t need the hellfire and the pitch forks, we don’t need the rivers of boiling blood, but we do need a national usury law.

want relationships to work like an ATM. I give to others, and they spit out exactly what I request. Instead, it’s more like a slot machine. I never know what I’m going to get in return, and sometimes I get nothing but X’s across the board.

The rules are strict but simple: Poker asks, nay, commands all its adherents to cut the bullshit and embrace reality. It will toy with the deluded — those who have everything figured out — with the playful cruelty of a cat toying with a mouse. Bring all of your convictions and credentials, your anger and insecurities to the poker table and the Poker Gods will tease you and mock you and fill you with false hopes and send you to the ATM a few times before releasing you, broke and steaming, at 5am.

Yes, an awful lot of sorrow has sort of quietened down up here. People just wild with grief have brought their relatives up to this hill. We all know how it is... and then time... and sunny days... and rainy days... n' snow... We're all glad they're in a beautiful place and we're coming up here ourselves when our fit's over. Now there are some things we all know but we don't takem' out and look at'm very often. We all know that something is eternal. And it ain't houses and it ain't names, and it ain't earth, and ain't even the stars... everybody knows in their bones that something is eternal, and that something has to do with human beings. All the greatest people ever lived have been telling us that for five thousand years and yet you'd be surprised how people are always losing hold of it.

Digitization + ubiquitous connectivity + consumer empowerment = enable an environment for disruptive innovation

بالرغم من ذلك الإحساس اللذيذ بالحب الذي بدأ ينتشر في الهواء بينهما وهما يشمان الورد سويًا في حديقة "الجزيرة"، لكنه لا يستطيع أن يخبرها أنه عامل "دليفري كنتاكي"، لو دخل الحارة التي يسكن فيها سيأكل ضربًا مبرّحًا من أهل الحارة الذين سيعتقدون بالتأكيد أنه "حرامي جي يهبأ على البيوت" لأنه حارته توجد بمنطقةٍ غامضة في أدغال القاهرة الشعبية، لم تعرف يومًا ساكنًا طلب "دليفري" من "كنتاكي"! كان في كل مرّةٍ تقترح عليه أن يطلب الأكل بالتليفون، يتحجج بأنه سيذهب ليشتري الأكل بنفسه حتى لا يحرم نفسه من ممارسة بعض الرياضة، وهو في الواقع إنما يخرج حتى يعقّب ساندويتشي الفول وواحد طعمية بواحد شاي خمسينة على مقهى "عفانة" الذي لا يدري هل سموه عفانة نظرًا لطبيعة المقهى أم أن المقهى "معفنة" نسبةً لاسم صاحبها! اقتراحاتها الدائمة بأن يسحب الفلوس من ماكينة "ATM" طالما أن "مش معاه فلوس تكفي" ..تصيبه بالغثيان، ولكنه يرد عليها بأنه نسيها في البيت، وإنه سيؤجل شراء كذا وكذا ليومٍ آخر! كان يوّد أن يصف لها محل "الطرشي" "متر في متر" الذي يمتلكه والده، ويحكي لها عن الشقة ذات الحجرتين دون صالةٍ أو حمام أو حتى مساحة للوقوف، والتي يسكنها مشاركًا أبوه وأمه والخمس أخوات فوق رؤوس بعض .. لكن لذَة الحب الغض الذي بدأ ينمو كما تنمو البرعمة الخضراء في بستان الحياة أقوى من تلك الشجاعة التي قد تنهي عشقًا قبل أن يأخذ مكانه تحت الشمس!

In 7.81 square miles of vaunted black community, the 850 square feet of Dum Dum Donuts was the only place in the "community" where one could experience the Latin root of the word, where a citizen could revel in common togetherness. So one rainy Sunday afternoon, not long after the tanks and media attention had left, my father ordered his usual. He sat at the table nearest the ATM and said aloud, to no one in particular, "Do you know that the average household net worth for whites is $113,149 per year, Hispanics $6,325, and black folks $5,677?" "For real?" "What's your source material, nigger?" "The Pew Research Center." Motherfuckers from Harvard to Harlem respect the Pew Research Center, and hearing this, the concerned patrons turned around in their squeaky plastic seats as best they could, given that donut shop swivel chairs swivel only six degrees in either direction. Pops politely asked the manager to dim the lights. I switched on the overhead projector, slid a transparency over the glass, and together we craned our necks toward the ceiling, where a bar graph titled "Income Disparity as Determined by Race" hovered overhead like some dark, damning, statistical cumulonimbus cloud threatening to rain on our collective parades. "I was wondering what that li'l nigger was doing in a donut shop with a damn overhead projector.

Es ist, wie wenn man sich selbst im Spiegel betrachtet und immer wieder seinen Namen sagt. Und irgendwann kommt einem nichts mehr real vor. Genauso geht es mir manchmal, aber ich brauche keine Stunde vor dem Spiegel dafür. Es geht ganz schnell, dass mir die Dinge entgleiten. Ich öffne die Augen und sehe nichts mehr. Und ich atme ganz schwer und versuche, noch irgendetwas zu erkennen, aber ich erkenne nichts. Es passiert nicht sehr häufig, aber wenn, jagt es mir wirklich Angst ein.

By 2030, some form of Crypto will become the global reserve currency but it will not be based on what exists today. Existing cryptos need to transform or will disappear. Also around 2030 or so, the first Nobel Prize in Economics will be awarded to a Cryptoeconomist.

Wir müssen nichts tun für unseren Tod. Unser Leben lang können wir uns in einem Schrank unter der Treppe verstecken, und er wird uns dennoch finden. Der Tod wird in einem unsichtbaren Umhang erscheinen, mit einem Zauberstab fuchteln und uns wegzerren, wenn wir am wenigsten damit rechnen. Er wird jede Spur unserer Existenz auf Erden tilgen, und das alles kostenfrei. Er verlangt keine Gegenleistung. Bei unserer Bestattung wird er sich verbeugen und die Lobpreisung für gut getane Arbeit entgegennehmen. Dann wird er verschwinden. Das Leben ist etwas fordernder. Eines müssen wir nämlich immer tun. Atmen. Ein und aus, jede Sekunde Minute Stunde jeden Tages müssen wir uns Luft zuführen, ob es uns gefällt oder nicht. Selbst wenn wir uns vornehmen, unsere Hoffnungen und Träume zu ersticken, müssen wir immer noch atmen. Selbst wenn wir verfallen und dem Mann an der Ecke unsere Würde verhökern, atmen wir noch. Wir atmen, wenn wir uns irren, wir atmen, wenn wir Recht haben, wir atmen sogar, wenn wir in einen Abgrund stürzen und unser Leben verfrüht ein Ende nimmt. Man kann das Atmen nicht weglassen. Also atme ich.

Blockchain by itself isn't transformational, however it is foundational. As a foundational innovation, Blockchain's value can only be fully realized when the business process is transformed to take advantage of its capabilities, leading to ROI for existing business models and the ability to create value through new ones.

Scalable Social Network Analysis. The SSNA would monitor telephone calls, conference calls, and ATM withdrawals, but it also sought to develop a far more invasive surveillance technology, one that could “capture human activities in surveillance environments.” The Activity Recognition and Monitoring program, or ARM, was modeled after England’s CCTV camera. Surveillance cameras would be set up across the nation, and through the ARM program, they would capture images of people as they went about their daily lives, then save these images to massive data storage banks for computers to examine. Using state-of-the-art facial recognition software, ARM would seek to identify who was behaving outside the computer’s pre-programmed threshold for “ordinary.” The parameters for “ordinary” remain classified.

I wanted them," Fudge whined. "I know you did. But we can't buy everything you want." [Mom told him] "Why" "We don't have the money to buy..." I could tell Mom was having a hard time explaining this. She thought for a minute before she finished. "...just for the sake of buying. Money doesn't grow on trees." "I know it doesn't grow on trees," Fudge said. "You get it at the ATM." "You can't just go to the ATM whenever you want money," Mom told him. "Yes you can," Fudge said. "You put in your card and money comes out. It works every time." "No. You have to deposit money into your account first," Mom said. "You work hard and try to save part of your salary every week. The cash machine is just a way to get some of your money out your account. It doesn't spit out money because you want it. It's not that easy." "I know, Mom," Fudge said. "Sometimes you have to stand on line." Mom sighed and looked at me. "Got any ideas Peter?

I stepped from the desert doorway with nothing except the clothes on my back and a shoulder bag filled with notebooks—blue-lined paper pads bound together with rubber bands and stained with my sweat, with camel shit, by smears of my own blood. The pages crazed with jottings about devastating heat. The bearings for remote wells. Inked maps of pilgrim roads. The divinations of Bedouin fire cures. Mile upon mile of sentences from an austere kingdom still largely closed to the world. I walked along the concrete highway and spotted the first alcoholic artifacts I had seen in seven months (bottles, cans), past a large potash mine, and up the wrinkled coast to a tourist town. I saw women in colorful sarongs. Some drove cars. Nobody watched me. I floated out of a desert wadi like windblown trash. I found an ATM. I asked directions to a posh hotel with knockoff Mies van der Rohe tubular furniture in the lobby. Men gave camel rides to tourists outside. “And where”—asked the clerk, without the least curiosity, as I signed the paperwork—”are you coming from, Mr. Salopek?

2/ KICK YOUR OWN ASS, GENTLY. I’ve been trying to set a few modest goals, both daily and weekly. In the course of a day, it’s good to get some stupid things accomplished, and off your “list.” I guess because it leaves you feeling that you and the “rest of the world” still have something to do with each other! Like today, for example, I can think back on sending a fax to my brother on his birthday, leaving a phone message for Brutus at his “hotel” on his birthday, phoning my Dad on his birthday (yep, all on the same day), then driving to Morin Heights to the ATM machine, to St. Sauveur for grocery shopping, and planning all that so I’d still have enough daylight left to go snowshoeing in the woods. And then I could drink. Not a high-pressure day, and hardly earth-shaking activities, but I laid them out for myself and did them (even though tempted to “not bother” with each of them at one point or another). I gave myself a gentle kick in the ass when necessary, or cursed myself out for a lazy fool, and because of all that, I consider today a satisfactory day. Everything that needed to be done got done. And by “needs” I certainly include taking my little baby soul out for a ride. And drinking. And there are little side benefits from such activities, like when the cashier in the grocery store wished me a genuinely-pleasant “Bonjour,” and I forced myself to look at her and return the greeting. The world still seems unreal to me, but I try not to purposely avoid contact with pleasant strangers. It wouldn’t be polite! Another “little goal” for me right now is spending an hour or two at the desk every morning, writing a letter or a fax to someone like you, or Brutus, or Danny, who I want to reach out to, or conversely, to someone I’ve been out of touch with for a long while, maybe for a year-and-a-half or two years. These are friends that I’ve decided I still value, and that I want as part of my “new life,” whatever it may be. It doesn’t really matter what, but just so you can say that you changed something in the course of your day: a neglected friend is no longer neglected; an errand that ought to be dealt with has been dealt with.

Walking Blues Not Packaged for Individual Sale I learned the word bodega the same day I learned arbitrage riding with you down to Richmond to buy armloads of the cheap cigarettes, the ones you'd packed duffled aboard a Chinatown bus to resell on the sly in Brooklyn. Back on Earth, driving your truck home alone, I turned both words over in my mouth again and again, polishing the gemstones. My mother learned bodega from 'Diamonds on the Soles of Her Shoes' and asked me to take a picture of the first one I saw when I visited you When I tried, you told me Don't preserve the evidence, dumbshit so I never got one. Besides, whatever glitter Paul Simon burnished onto the word had gotten lost among the toilet paper rolls and rubber gloves that lined the ceilings, though I found a glimmer of it napping on the warmth of the ATM, a cat who was named Lucy not after diamonds but after the cigarettes. This was back before you figured out how much more you can make by just stealing what you wanted. Back when I still thought of myself as the kind of friend who would visit you in jail.

Er ist nicht von ihrer Art. Ich glaube, er ist von meiner Art; ich bin mir sicher, dass er es ist - ich fühle mich ihm verwandt -, ich verstehe die Sprache seiner Miene und seiner Bewegungen; obwohl Rang und Vermögen eine tiefe Kluft zwischen uns schaffen, ist etwas in meinem Hirn und meinem Herzen, in meinem Blut und meinen Nerven, das mich im geistig gleich macht. Sagte ich vor wenigen Tagen, ich hätte nichts weiter mit ihm zu tun, als mein Salär von ihm zu erhalten? Habe ich mir verboten, ihm in jeglichem anderen Licht zu sehen als dem eines Brotherrn? Welche Blasphemie gegenüber der Menschennatur! Jedes gute, wahre kraftvolle Gefühl, das ich hege, sammelt sich aus freien Stücken um ihn herum. Ich weiß, dass ich meine Gefühle verbergen muss, jede Hoffnungs im Keim ersticken muss, nie vergessen darf, wie wenig ich ihm bedeute. Denn wenn ich sagen, ich sei von seiner Art, will ich damit nicht sagen, ich besäße seine Kraft der Beeinflussung oder seine Zaubermacht der Anziehung; ich will nur sagen, dass ich gewisse Vorlieben und Empfindungen mit ihm teile. Ich darf also nie vergessen, dass wir für alle Zeiten voneinander getrennt sind - und dennoch muss ich ihn lieben, so lange ich atme und denke.

Identify yourself, please.” Lucky Dragon ATMs all had this same voice, a weird, uptight, strangled little castrato voice, and he wondered why that was. But you could be sure they’d worked it out: probably it kept people from standing around, bullshitting with the machine. But Rydell knew

Leise nippe ich an meinem Kaffee, sitze auf der Terrasse, eingekuschelt in meinem kleinen Dschungel von Kräutern und summenden Bienen, lasse meine Gedanken wandern, durchtränkt von der Wärme der aufgehenden Sonne. Atme die weiche Luft ein und aus fülle den Moment mit Fluids von Frieden.

The interesting finds are that the 7-repeat people: hold fewer funds in savings; are less likely to pay off credit card balances each month; withdraw more cash than needed at the ATM; are less likely to use a debit card instead of a credit card; and are less likely to purchase overdraft protection.

In November 2013, the world’s first Bitcoin ATM opened in Vancouver, Canada.

Here we are today, and bitcoin is taking on the entire banking system, the most powerful industry in the world. Guess what? Bitcoin’s going to win. It’s going to win for a very simple reason. It’s not just going to win because it’s better. It’s not just going to win because the banking system is run by gangsters, crooks, and some of the most immoral empty suits in the world. It’s not just going to win because the banking system has spent the last 50 years delivering just two consumer innovations — ATMs and credit cards — and then spent the rest of the time trying to figure out how to fleece you. It’s going to win because it’s open. In a world of tinkers, of experimenters, of makers, open wins. The reason it wins is that it allows innovation to flourish at the edges.

Your body fat levels can increase through means that are beyond your control. Pollution is a major culprit here because it’s been shown to contain obesogenic compounds that promote the accumulation of body fat. And these compounds are making their way into our air and rivers. Pesticides also increase body fat as they run off into lakes and rivers after being sprayed on the food we eat. And, you encounter a large number of chemical body-fat-promoting compounds, referred to by scientists as obesogens, through plastic bottles, Styrofoam, shampoo, paints, carpeting, food preservatives, artificial ingredients, plastic shower curtains, antibacterial soap and Teflon cookware. Artificial obesogens are found in the special paper used for ATM and cash register receipts and even in the chemicals found in a new automobile that give it that “new car smell.

hundred mile journey. He had little cash left. No ATMs were working and nothing was open anyway. They approached a motel, its sign said ‘Vacancies’. His mood lifted. Hungry and tired, they approached a door which hung askew, hanging on just one hinge. Bill walked into a deserted reception area. A few keys hung on hooks behind the desk. He grabbed a couple and walked through to a small dining area. It too was deserted. A door at the back led through to a kitchen. Its doors were wide open. Not a morsel of food was left. They walked through and out into the courtyard. The keys were surplus to requirements, every door was wide open. Each room had been picked bare. The flat screen TVs that were advertised were nowhere to be seen, likewise the coffee makers and radios. However, the beds were still there. What the thieves could have done with the electrical equipment without power seemed irrelevant. They would sleep in a bed, hungry, but a lot more comfortable than they had been for the previous two nights. Bill settled Mike and Lauren into one room and told them to keep the door closed. He couldn’t buy food but he could damn well hunt for it. He walked out of the motel, across the almost desolate highway and with a vast expanse of open ground before him, settled down and waited for a target. It wasn’t long in coming. A deer came into his sights, over eight hundred yards away, but well within his range. He heard a rustle behind him but remained on target and fired. The deer went down, an instant kill. “That’s damn fine shooting, sir,” said a voice from behind. Bill had heard the two men approach but hadn’t wanted to turn and risk missing the deer. They had been almost silent in their approach, understanding what he was doing. They were hunters themselves. “Thanks,” he said, turning to greet them. “Too much for us though, happy to share.” “No that’s okay, friend, we’re fine,” they said, much to his astonishment. He was actually wondering if they would have let him have any without a fight. “Are you sure? It’s too big for me to carry all this way. I’m afraid I’m just going to cut what I need and leave the rest. By the time I come back, I imagine it’ll be picked clean.” “We were just driving past and saw you line up that shot. That is really impressive shooting.” “You’ve got gas?” asked Bill, surprised. “Friend, we have everything you can imagine, food, gas, what we don’t have much of is folks that shoot as fine as that over that distance.” “Okay,” said Bill suspiciously. “We’re a couple of miles ahead of our main party, how’d you fancy joining us?” “Joining you for what?” “Teaching these Chinese bastards that they fucked with the wrong country!” spat the one that had remained quiet up until then. Bill could see why the other one had done most of the talking. He had also probably done his fair share of teaching the Chinese or at least their president that they had messed with the wrong country. “I’ve got a niece who’d have to come with us, and her boyfriend,” he said. He wouldn’t miss the chance of helping in any way he could, but he wouldn’t leave Lauren to fend for herself. “What age?” “They’re in their twenties.” “Can they shoot?” “Absolutely!” “Welcome to the Patriotic Guard of America, friend, Montana Division,” said the man smiling widely. “Next stop, Washington!” Chapter 77 General Petlin’s desk was littered with updates from across America.

Abra wants its payment network to outnumber all physical ATMs in the world.

According to MacKenzie, it has a French chef, a Starbucks, riding stables, a spa, a helicopter landing pad, and a plaza of designer boutiques so kids can shop during lunch and after school hours. And get this! She said her school has ATM machines in every hall, right next to drinking fountains that dispense seven different fruit-flavored waters. But

In its place had arisen a Promised Land of Duane Reades and Chase ATMs on every corner, luxury doorman buildings, Pilates studios and spin classes, eighteen-dollar rosemary-infused cocktails and seven-dollar cups of single-origin coffee—all of which were there to cater to a new generation of twentysomethings, the data scientists and brand strategists and software engineers and social media managers and product leads and marketing associates and IT coordinators ready to disrupt the world with apps. And today, like every day, they would work until it was dark again, and then they would go to dinner parties or secret cocktail bars or rooftop events, and most of them would end the night watching Netflix on their laptops in bed" - Prologue, Save Your Generation, in Doree Shafrir's Startup

a key part of their subsequent success was rooted in the insight that continuous improvement to the shopping experience rather than any one particular improvement had the potential to be a major competitive edge. Tesco’s improvements included their ‘One in front’ commitment to effectively abolish checkout line-ups, baby-changing and bottle-warming facilities, ATMs, escorted searches for product requests and priority parking for pregnant mums. It was not that one improvement was more successful than another; it was the relentless implementation of a never-ending stream of small improvements that steadily improved Tesco’s image relative to their competitors, who were left seemingly forever floundering in their wake. The scheme also got Tesco’s staff more engaged in service delivery and coming up with ideas for further improvements. ‘Every little helps’ helped Tesco attract over a million new shoppers in the period from 1990–1995.

There are many small charges that are tacked on to your monthly bill statements, such as credit cards, cable, Internet, utilities, and ATM fees. All of them seem like a small amount, but when you add them up, the total amount wasted each month can be startling. They are the proverbial death of a thousand cuts. By creating a monthly habit to review these bills, you can identify opportunities to reduce or eliminate your recurring expenditures. Description: Once a month, go through each statement and highlight any questionable item. Also, if you feel that you’re spending too much money in a specific category, then earmark that expenditure. You’ll call this company and negotiate a lower price, which we’ll talk about next.

By noon the next day, she had pulled off three more ATM events.

Damn if Oprah wasn't yakking with three movie actresses about what a hassle it was to be famous and have photographers snooping around, following you to the grocery and the ATM, whatever. Tool didn't feel one tiny bit sorry for her and them other gals, on account of they was rich enough to build twenty-foot walls around their mansions if they wanted. Butlers, bodyguards, the best of everything. Tool found himself thinking about Maureen, the old lady at Elysian Manor, alone and dying of God knows what kind of rotten cancer. Damn nurses won't even let her out of the sack to take a shower or go to the can. There's somebody would trade places with them actresses in a heartbeat, Tool thought, Maureen would. She'd be smilin' and wavin' at them photographers, she'd be so grateful not to be sick.

The love of your life is in a queue at an ATM, in front of the bakery, in the cleanliness of the apartment." He told the entrepreneur "Be gentle because your true love will be deep down," looking for me.

The time a guy tried to rob my mother at an ATM and pointed a gun at me to make her comply is as American and mundane as apple pie

Elke seconde is een verkeerde keuze.

In the 21st century, the pornographic vogue of ‘ass to mouth’, in which the feminine, after being sodomised by the masculine, is expected to orally clean the penis, is an eroticised example of the same impulse. Women, who for centuries have metaphorically eaten shit, are now expected to literally do so, like swine.

That guy says your colleague has cigarettes they cut our bellies and we start clucking. he puts our 100-lei bills into piles. if i’m like other poets i should have room. i stand up and run away with the ATM. a few hens get after us. my colleague says he’s been smoking the same cigarette for three days. he takes a drag and puts a cap on it for later. we butter him up and promise him the moon and the stars if he’d just let us have a drag. we feel like kissing him long and hard on his snout to take the cigarette smoke off the roof of his mouth. and we’re so sorry that the cigarette must burn to smoulder so that we’ve something to drag on. our colleague secretly smokes in his palms. because we think that such a crappy life only in prison, not even in death. (translated from the Romanian by Diana Manole)

A feeble old lady with a gun kept us up there for twenty-two hours,” Deputy Clayton said. “I wonder whatever happened to that robot she shot.” “I heard it’s an ATM in West Covina now,” Deputy Ross said with a grin, “but it freaks out whenever somebody tries to deposit a Social Security check.” “PTSD is a bitch,” Clayton said.

He laughs all the way to the bank. I cry at the ATM.

Knowledge work is where agricultural work was at the dawn of the industrial economy. Then, the machines of the industrial economy, like the steam shovel and cotton gin, automated manual work. Now, the software of the information economy, from ATMs to self-driving cars and the AI able to make medical diagnosis, is automating knowledge work.

one ATM could do the work of no fewer than thirty-seven human tellers (and, into the bargain, rarely fell ill). In the United States, about half of all those employed in retail banking—some 500,000 people—lost their jobs between 1980 and 1995, thanks in large part to the invention of these silkily efficient machines.

The entire square was filled with villagers, young and old, all decked out in medieval dress. It looked like a renaissance fair, only without the funnel cakes and ATM machines labeled Queen's Treasury.

The growth in asset management income accounts for roughly 35 percent of the growth of the financial sector as a percent of GDP, driven by the opaque fee structures, especially when it comes to alternative investment vehicles.36 But in spite of their high fees, there is little evidence of any advantages, for instance in better long-run performance, when it comes to higher management fees.37 Other key sources of financial profits have come from their privileged position in running the economy’s payments system: ATM and sundry other fees levied on normal saving and checking accounts.

The result is that most banks will eventually rationalise down to just one store for every 250,000 people—or one store for every large town, city and shopping centre—rather than the current structure which allocates about one store for every 20,000 people. The question then is this: What do you do with the 80 per cent of stores that are no longer needed? The ones in the suburbs and smaller high streets? The answer is that you replace them with satellite self-service hub stations, which allow people to self-serve with ATMs and deposit machines.

ATM failure rates have significantly declined over the past several years, thanks to concurrent error detection algorithms in the software that processes transactions,

Another tip to weld society together. Give the person up to bat at the ATM plenty of space so they’re not nervous about you peeking at their PIN number or slipping a blade between their ribs the second the money spits out.

Grace is not currency dispensed from an impersonal, computerized ATM. Grace is deeply personal, it is glue, securing the branch of our Christian life into the trunk of Christ’s all-sufficiency. Grace binds us to the person of Christ, to his vital life, and to the full spectrum of his all-sufficient benefits.

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The top employees of the five largest investment banks divided a bonus pool of over $36 billion in 2007. Leaders in the financial sector argued that in fact their high returns were the result of innovation and genuine value-added products, and they tended to grossly understate the latent risks their firms were taking. (Keep in mind that an integral part of our working definition of the this-time-is-different syndrome is that “the old rules of valuation no longer apply.”) In their eyes, financial innovation was a key platform that allowed the United States to effectively borrow much larger quantities of money from abroad than might otherwise have been possible. For example, innovations such as securitization allowed U.S. consumers to turn their previously illiquid housing assets into ATM machines, which represented a reduction in precautionary saving.13

Whether we make our own money or rely on someone else, many of us would rater pretend our financial matters don't exist. Or we hope they'll just take care of themselves somehow. My ex-husband was like that. He always said, "I bank by prayer. I go to the ATM and pray that money will come out.

They watched in rapt silence as the car window lowered. The angle was a bit odd—above the car and from the machine’s point of view—but there was no doubt. Chad Coldren was the driver. He leaned out the window and put his card in the ATM machine slot. His fingers tripped across the buttons like an experienced stenographer’s. Young

Rufus arched an eyebrow, proud of his ingenuity. “But see, Rufus has lots of girls working for him. And if they have money I figure he takes them to an ATM and gets them to clear out the cash. He has one of the clubs in here. A place called Barely Legal. It’s for men who want girls that are—” “I think I can put together what they want. Go on.” “Legal,” Rufus said, raising a finger. “The name is Barely Legal. The key word is legal. All the girls are over eighteen.” “I’m sure your mother must be the envy of her book group, Rufus.” Myron turned back to Katie. “So you thought . . . ?” “I didn’t think. Like I said, I just reacted.” Rufus

I stood in a maze line formed by crushed-velvet ropes and waited my turn. It reminded me of visiting a bank in the days before ATMs. The woman in front of me sported a business suit—at midnight—and big enough bags under her eyes to be mistaken for a bellhop. Behind me, a man with curly hair and dark sweats whipped out a cell phone and started pressing buttons.

Before we took the trip, he had never been on an elevator, eaten a hamburger, or enjoyed a chocolate milkshake. He’d never seen a vacuum cleaner, dishwasher, trash compactor, ATM, vending machine, car with automatic locks, or Western-style movie theater. He had never been to a shopping mall, ridden in a car on the Interstate, or traveled at over 40 miles an hour. He’d never seen a rodeo, the Metropolitan Museum of Art, or the Rubin Museum of Art in New York filled with Himalayan art, or drunk a single-malt scotch. Now he counts all of these marvels of Western culture as some of his favorite things.

Atlas Okyanusu k›y›s›ndaki limanlar›n önem kazanmas›, Avrupa’n›n Osmanl› Devleti’ne ba¤›ml›l›¤›n› azaltm›flt›r. Avrupa d›fl›ndaki dünya zay›flarken Avrupa, her alanda güç kazanm›flt›r. Özellikle ‹spanyol ve Portekizliler genifl topraklar elde ederek ilk sömürge imparatorluklar›n›n temellerini bu yüzy›lda atm›fllard›r. Bu dönemde Avrupal› devletlerde zenginlik anlay›fl›, toprak sahibi olmak dü- flüncesinden, de¤erli madenlere sahip olmak düflüncesine dönüflmüfltür. Bu dü- flünce, ticaret yaparak bu de¤erleri kazanan ve flehirlerde yaflayan bir tüccarlar zümresinin, burjuvazinin ortaya ç›kmas›n› sa¤lam›flt›r. Avrupa toplumlar›nda meydana gelen de¤ifliklikler, büyük devletler aras›nda rekabetin do¤mas›na yol açm›fl ve bunlar›n daha zengin olma arzular›n› da kamç›lam›flt›r.Ayr›ca, ticari hayat›n geliflmesi de¤erli madenlere olan ihtiyac› da artt›rm›flt›r. Avrupa devletlerinde görülen geliflmeler, devletin

Miriam Adeney writes that the "'prosperity gospel' teachers are partly right. Christian faith often helps the family budget. People get drunk less. Their lives become more orderly. They become more accountable. Many churches help people in dysfunctional situations. . . . Christian faith encourages and inspires and motivates. Renouncing idols and serving Christ blesses individuals and can also bless communities and nations."13 The problem with the prosperity gospel, of course, is that faith is not a formula or a divine ATM at which the proper code guarantees a release of funds or health.

Perhaps they have come to abet our cause,” Atme said.

I swung from one place to the next, sometimes backward, sometimes forward, capitalizing on my own momentum, knowing that at some point my arms—or, more accurately, my quivering bank balance, accessed through foreign ATMs—would give out, and I’d fall to the ground.

Others were behavioral. For instance: a potential terrorist was unlikely to withdraw money from an ATM on a Friday afternoon, during Muslim prayer services.

Evaluate your daily activities and keep making changes where applicable, atm this is the common evaluation :% social media % exercise % work

Wenn wir nicht zusammen sind, habe ich das Gefühl, dass ich kaum atme«, flüsterte sie. »Und das heißt, wenn ich dich am Montagmorgen sehe, kommt es mir so vor, als hätte ich in sechzig Stunden nur einmal geatmet. Wahrscheinlich bin ich deswegen so missmutig und schnauze dich an. Wenn wir getrennt sind, denke ich nur an dich, und wenn wir zusammen sind, bin ich nur panisch. Weil mir jede Sekunde so wichtig vorkommt. Und weil ich so außer mir bin, dass ich nicht anders kann. Ich gehöre nicht mal mehr mir, ich gehöre dir, und was wäre, wenn du dich entschließt, dass du mich nicht willst? Du kannst mich gar nicht so sehr wollen wie ich dich.«

The kid’s ATM card was accessed yesterday at 6:18 P.M.,” Esperanza said. “He took out $180. A First Philadelphia branch on Porter Street in South Philly.” “Thanks.” Information like that was not difficult to obtain. Anybody with an account number could pretty much do it with a phone by pretending they were the account holder. Even without one, any semi-human who had ever worked in law enforcement had the contacts or the access numbers or at least the wherewithal to pay off the right person. It didn’t take much anymore, not with today’s overabundance of user-friendly technology. Technology did more than depersonalize; it ripped your life wide open, gutted you, stripped away any pretense of privacy. A

All the world’s principal security codes exploit trapdoor operations. Every time you shop online or extract cash from an ATM machine you are using them.

Andy Dietz, who is on the staff of a church in the panhandle of Texas, has been coordinating mission trips overseas for many years. On one particular trip with his young people, the project had been finished, and the kids had left for home, but Andy stayed over to visit with missionary friends in the area. He was coming back through a European city on his way home. Having an overnight transit, he went downtown for dinner, found himself in the wrong part of town, and was mugged and kidnapped. After taking all his money, and all he could get from the ATM machine, his captors had him wire his family to ask for $5,000 to secure his release. His family notified us, and we activated a prayer network and contacted our personnel in the city who were not even aware he was there. They notified the police, but before anything could be done, Andy was able to elude his captors and get away while they were eating and drinking. I called him after he got home to talk through the experience and seek to minister to him. I asked him, after such a traumatic experience, if he thought he would go on any more mission trips. He said, “Oh yes. It's the most gratifying thing I do to take these kids overseas.” He continued, “I was negligent and learned that I have got to be more vigilant about where I go.” He described what it was like to be beaten, tied up, put in the trunk of a car, and his life threatened. He said, “They didn't know me. Nobody knew where I was. I meant nothing to them. My life was worthless. I realized they wouldn't think twice about getting rid of me, and no one would know.” He continued, “You can imagine how desperate I was to get away. And all I could think of was God saying, 'Andy, this is how desperate you should be to know Me.'” I held the phone in disbelief. I can only imagine the extent of desperation to escape a situation where your life is threatened. Can you imagine being so desperate to know God in all of His fullness, to have a heart that is so passionate for Him and His holiness? I think that's the only thing that will be a fail-safe deterrent to immoral behavior. We are always vulnerable; Satan will see to that, but in Christ we have been given the capacity to walk in holiness and victory.

I know now that it wasn’t my fault, but at the time, it felt like it must have been. It was like one day, I was me, and the next, I was casting spells he wanted me to. He was at an ATM getting cash out one time and he got me to enchant the machine so that it malfunctioned and gave him a few hundred quid that wasn’t his. Another time, I cast a basic warding spell over his phone so that he could take it into exams and look the answers up without anyone noticing. I did things like that for weeks. Because he wanted me to. Because I thought if I did enough, he’d love me.

Loss is not just what’s gone in the present but all of the future plans. The trips booked. The imagined graduation events. The holidays not celebrated together. Life falls apart in shudders, in emails from lawyers, drained bank accounts, trips to the ATM, new forms to fill out at the pediatrician, new boxes to check. Life falls apart in music stations no longer listened to, restaurants not gone to, food no longer eaten, dishes not ordered. Habits. Clothes. Preferences. Washed away.

attempted HIV vaccines are an ATM for NIH, whether they work or not.

In the eyes of its citizens, the Venezuelan state is little more than an ATM—the magic box that stands between the oil in the ground and the outstretched palm, the device that performs the alchemy of turning oil into money in my pocket.

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There are only three things that tell the truth: drunk people, small children, and yoga pants.” Hunter laughed out loud. “Well, last time I was at the gym, I asked the personal trainer which machine is best to impress the ladies—and he pointed outside to the ATM machine.

Man, I’m good! Come on, Sandor, you can say it. Who’s the Lord of Awesome?” Sandor gritted his teeth. “I’ll save any compliments for when we’re safely back at Havenfield five minutes early.” Which definitely would’ve been the smart thing for them to do. But Sophie had spotted a cluttered shop and decided that cheering up Keefe was a better use of that extra time. So with Dex’s help at a nearby ATM, she was able to make a very creative withdrawal through her elvin birth fund, and she used that cash to buy all the weird British biscuits that Keefe had requested—plus some called Hobnobs, and some called Custard Creams, and several bars of Cadbury chocolate, and a few boxes of proper English tea. And as they leaped home—with thirty seconds to spare—she couldn’t believe how easy it had been.

When the ATM brings out naira notes, they look the same no matter how you have earned it.

When it comes to money, let’s learn from the ubiquitous ATM. The ATM does not print money; nor does it hoard money. It receives and dispenses money. Albeit, metaphorically, requiring a small sum for maintaining and sustaining itself. So, here’s the opportunity for each of us. Let’s realize that all the money in our life is what came our way. We are basically custodians – not owners – of our wealth. Of course, we can keep some for ourselves, to make our lives comfortable. But to make our lives meaningful, we will do well to share our wealth. So that we can touch another Life, wipe a tear and make a difference!

atme.