This service is temporarily out of order

I'm on my way to the hairdressers when I stop at a hole in the wall to get money out. A woman is front of me uses it then I step up. It says, 'Insert your card'; I do so.

It says, 'This machine is temporarily out of service.'

I say, 'Oh. Give me back my card then.'

It says, 'This machine is temporarily out of service.'

I press a variety of buttons; it says, 'This machine is ...'

I begin to squeak and hop from foot to foot. 'Eek, urh, ur!'

I look around for my fairy godmother or anyone who will tell me what to do now.

I start biting my nails and talking to myself simultaneously.

'Okay, now, calm down, think sensibly. Breathe. That's important. In, out, in out, that's better. Think, think.'

The hairdresser will have to wait for me; I will go straight to my bank and let them sort it out. What if my card pops out as soon as my back is turned? I walk away, looking over my shoulder.

At the bank I explain what has happened and they sit me down while they sort it out. The girl says she has to ask me some questions so I can prove I am who I say I am. 'Name? Address?'

So far so good.

'Account details?' (No, sorry.)

'What was the last transaction on your account?' (No idea. Last week maybe? 'For how much?' No idea.)

'Do you have an overdraft facility?' (No idea.)

In the end she decides that if I were a con artist I would be better prepared than this and does what has to be done.

I get to the hairdressers ten minutes late; they give me tea and a sit-down. I finally stop whimpering.