The Tale of the Mysterious ATMs

Photo by Mirza Babic (cropped) on Unsplash.

When I was 15, I had no money. I was not working, no allowance, I wasn’t even one of those kids who would mow lawns for extra cash. I did nothing. This story is about a day I will never forget, when a few mysterious ATMs gave me all the money I could ever dream of — but at a cost.

It was a quiet, fall Saturday. My mother and I always went grocery shopping on Saturday mornings, and this day was no different. We woke up, got ready to leave, and headed to the store.

First, we stop to get gas for my mom’s GMC Acadia. While she starts filling up the car, I take $3 from her purse and decide to go into the store and buy a soda. I walk in the door and notice something unusual directly to my right. There was an old ATM that had been there for as long as I can remember — but that twenty dollar bill sitting in the ATM, that had not been there before. I stop for a moment, look around. There are no other customers in the store. I decide that I will finish paying for my soda, and if the money is still there when I’m done, I’m going to take it.

I head to the back of the gas station, grab my soda, and walk to the counter, constantly glancing over to the ATM. The cashier rings me up, and the money is still there. As I head out there door I “smoothly” grab the $20 out of the ATM and keep going, right back to my mom’s car.

What a day this has already turned out to be! I just made so much money, endless Game Boy Advance games were coming my way! I run out to my mom, waving the money in the air. She asks me where I got it and, after I tell her, gives me a small, tight smile.

“What’s her deal?” I thought to myself. It’s just twenty dollars, it’s not like its a crime… or is it?

Now my 15-year-old panic sets in. I had no idea of any laws, especially ones involving ATMs. My mind bounced back and forth between I did not commit a crime and I did commit a crime and my mom should drop me off at the sheriff’s office.

I end up deciding to keep my mouth shut.

We finish all of our grocery shopping, and as we are checking out, I go over to the bank at the back of the store. They always had free lollipops for kids, and I wasn’t yet old enough to turn one down.

I walk over to the area, grab my lollipop, and see another ATM. I remember thinking to myself, “wouldn’t it be awesome if there was more money in this one?”

Never, in a million years, would I have imagined walking over to this ATM and finding another twenty dollars… but I did.

Once again, struck by youthful euphoria, I snatched up the money and yelled, “I’ll be in the car,” as my mom finished paying for the groceries.

Sitting in the passenger seat, I held not twenty, but now FORTY DOLLARS in my hands. My purchasing options were endless! I could buy whatever I wanted! This time, I don’t tell my mom. She didn’t seem to care last time anyway.

My mom comes out to the car with the groceries and I help her load them into the trunk. She pulls out of our parking spot and starts to head home, and then sheer panic sets in.

Oh, Jaret, what the HELL were you thinking! I thought. Not only had I blatantly committed one ATM crime, but now I was a repeat offender! I’d go down in the history books as a serial ATM robber. My life was over.

Now, I know this sounds silly, because as I sit here writing this, I know exactly what I should have done. I should have taken the money to the counter, both at the gas station and the grocery store, told them that I found this $20 in the ATM, and done whatever they said — whether that was to just leave it in case someone comes back for it, or keep it for myself. I would have saved myself a lot of 15-year-old mental anguish. On the other hand, I would have missed out on getting to feel like my life was starting to take off because I’d come into forty dollars.

Once we unload all the groceries into the house, I run upstairs and lock myself in my room. I create a sock and underwear castle in my drawer and hide the money there, hoping to never think of it again. I sit on my bed, absolutely terrified of what to do now. I can’t spend the money because they would trace it back to me and then I’d end up in jail, but I can’t keep it either because I could end up in jail. 

I mope around the house all day, taking it all in, because who knows how much longer I was going to live there. I was on my way to jail for sure.

Hours pass and it is now dinner time. My mother yells up to me in my room and tells me we are going out. I quickly put on a hoodie to cover my face, in case the cops were looking for me.

We make our way to the restaurant and they tell us it will be a 30 minute wait, so we sit down in the lobby. Conversation is light, since I cannot focus on anything besides the cops who are sure to bust in the door at any moment.

As I sit in silence, I turn my head to the left… an ATM. My head quickly flies back around. I can’t go over there. But then my mom laughs and says, “Jay, what if there is more money in there?”

I think that she must not care about her son ending up in prison, but I get up and walk over to the ATM, where I find… a twenty dollar bill.

Jaret Wilmoth still checks ATMs now and then.

This story is part of The Billfold’s Spooky Money series.

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