Atm Work Quotes

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.

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.

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?

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

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.

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

use the Schwab ATM card to withdraw money at any ATM nationwide. All ATM charges are automatically reimbursed at the end of the month. Generally, I use my Capital One 360 account as a receiver,

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

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

Some well-known acronyms simply don’t work at all. Pin number, for example. Because what you’re actually saying is ‘personal information number number’. It’s the same with those who refer to the HIV virus. Or an ATM machine. Or an LCD display. Or an ISDN network. Then you have abbreviations that are longer to use than the actual words. Worldwide web, for instance, is three syllables, whereas WWW is nine. And why say: ‘Have you RSVPed?’ when you mean ‘Have you replied?’?

Then I imagined a whole world of people toiling in the shadow of approaching ruin, exhausting their strength and grace, while above them a whole other world of people puttered around, enjoying the good things of life, staying at the Burj just because they could. And I left my ATM woes out of it and just wrote: Paucity = Rage.

2. You need to look at what content works amongst your peers and those you look up to, and post what others have posted successfully with engagement.

Reverse Engineering “Don’t reinvent the wheel, just realign it.” Anthony J. D’Angelo There is another famous quote that I am particularly fond of, and that spoke to me throughout my career—it is from Thomas Edison: “I have not failed, I just found 10,000 ways that won’t work.

Look at the personal brands, brands that are in your niche, and condense all the learning into a spreadsheet. Many times you can figure an entire business out, by just looking at your competition. What content works for them? What content does their audience engage with? What are they doing well? Where are they lacking information? What does their audience like and appreciate?

Manipulations work; dropping the price for your product or service is an example of manipulation. But manipulation will only get you that far.

The milkshake was perfect to hold during a car ride, convenient, and gave the consumer a meal alternative while driving to work, so that they were not starving but also did not have to eat messy bagels, etc., while driving.

think this is a brilliant summary of storytelling. Tell a good story—but keep it short and concise. Do the work so your consumer doesn’t have to.

We met in the middle of a blackout. It was searing hot and there wasn’t any running water and New York City had lost its mind. People were sweaty and edgy, thronging the streets, leaking heat and anxiety. Traffic lights dangled dead over the intersections; taxis lurched through the dark. The ATMs didn’t work and bodegas were charging insane amounts for bottled water and I was thirsty, hungover, and almost out of cash. I felt defenseless every time I walked up the ten flights to my apartment, carrying a lit candle in the ghostly stairwell. I was nearing panic when a friend called and told me he had the water back on in his building down by City Hall, and a grill out on the balcony. As I walked there, on the cobblestone street just north of Washington Square Park, past an intersection where a woman in a sundress was directing traffic, down into the lighting district—window after window teaming with powerless, shimmering chandeliers, the people in the apartments above drinking beer on their fire escapes—the city seemed less like a nightmare and more like a carnival. My friend had said he had a houseguest in town, visiting from California: Lucy. She was golden-skinned and green-eyed in her white shirt, and she smiled with all the openness in the world when I walked in the door. She had the radiant decency of a sunflower.

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.

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

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.

A few days later, Pellegrini took his wife on vacation in Anguilla. Stopping at an automated-teller machine in the hotel lobby on New Year's Eve to withdraw some cash, she checked the balance of their checking account. She was immediately taken aback. On the screen before her was a figure she had never seen before, at least not on an ATM. It's not clear how many others ever had, either: $45 million, newly deposited in their joint account. It was Pellegrini's bonus for the year, including some deferred compensation. He was still special to John Paulson, after all. In truth, Pellegrini had withheld more from his bonus than he needed in order to pay the year's taxes, so the figure in the bank account that day was skimpier than it could have been. Paulson paid him about $175 million for his work in 2007. Pellegrini would never again have to worry about finding a career, keeping a job, or stretching his savings. "Wow," his wife said quietly, still staring at the ATM. Then they left, arm in arm, to meet a chartered boat to take them to nearby St. Barts. Paulson did quite well for himself as well. His hedge fund got to keep 20 percent of the $15 billion or so gains of all his funds. He also was a big investor in the credit funds. His personal tally for 2007: nearly $4 billion. It was the largest one-year payout in the history of the financial markets.

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