In a small town that doesn’t appear on most maps, people have developed a habit no one remembers starting: they apologize to ATMs before taking money out.

It’s subtle. A soft “sorry” under the breath. A quick nod. Sometimes a full sentence:
“Sorry, this might hurt.”

Outsiders notice it immediately. Locals don’t.

“It Just Feels Polite”

Residents insist the machines aren’t broken, haunted, or programmed to demand respect. Yet nearly everyone treats them as if they are mildly sensitive creatures doing their best under pressure.

“If it gives me smaller notes than I wanted, I apologize twice,” said one shopkeeper. “It’s not the machine’s fault.”

Teenagers claim the ATMs work faster if spoken to kindly. Elderly residents say rude withdrawals lead to “angry beeping,” though no evidence supports this. Bank officials have tried placing new machines in town. Within weeks, those machines also started receiving apologies.

No signs. No instructions. Just vibes.

When Someone Didn’t Say Sorry

Last month, a visitor loudly complained at an ATM, slapped the screen, and walked away without a word of courtesy.

The machine still dispensed cash.

But the receipt printed upside down.

By evening, the story had spread. People shook their heads—not in fear, but disappointment.

“That’s how you get ignored,” one resident muttered, patting an ATM gently before inserting her card.

The Machines Remain Silent

The ATMs do not respond. They don’t thank users. They don’t show emotion. They simply hum, blink, and continue dispensing money like any other machine in the world.

And yet, every morning, someone wipes fingerprints off the screen. Someone straightens the receipt slot. Someone whispers, “Take care,” before walking away.

No one says the machines deserve it.
They just say it feels wrong not to.