The Credit Card Machine

I can still see my mother take the blue card out of her wallet.
I did not know it then but it was a credit card to her favorite store.
All I knew was that the blue card went into something that looked like a giant stapler.
A paper with three parts was placed over her credit card.

The lady behind the register pushed down on the handle.
She opened up the giant stapler-like thing and took out the three part paper.
Numbers magically appeared on the paper.
She handed it to my mother, along with a pen, and asked her to sign.

Inside the three part paper were two sheets of blue carbon paper.
I discovered the blue paper made your fingertips blue if you touched it.
She threw the blue paper away in the trash can under the counter.
One copy went in the register, one to my mother, and one to the payment processing department.

I think about that credit card machine that looked like a giant stapler.
I think about the blue carbon paper that was in between the three sheets of paper.
I think about the woman pushing down on the handle in order to copy the number on the card.
Since the numbers were raised on the plastic card, a perfect imprint was on the duplicate.

Imagine throwing away your credit card number so nonchalantly.
Imagine the imprint of your number on the carbon paper for anyone to see.
I do not remember hearing about anyone stealing credit card information back then.
It probably happened, but it seems to be more prevalent today.

I always wanted to work behind the cash register and use one of those credit card machines.
Now everything is digital.
All our information is on the magnetic strip on the back of the card.
The days of raised numbers on credit cards is a thing of the past.

I thought of the old credit card machine when I went to the Vietnam Memorial.
People stood at the wall with a pencil and a piece of paper.
Thy found the name or names they were looking for and put the paper over it.
They ran their pencil over the indented letters and made a perfect imprint.

All this came to mind when I was at my local market.
I was buying some organic fruit and honey and some other items.
When I got to the register, it was a cashier I see all the time.
What happened to your hand? She asked looking at my wrist splint.

I have tendonitis in my wrist, I answered, and have to wear this for a while.
I put my credit card in the chip reader.
When it was approved, I had to sign.
There was no paper to sign; there was just a machine that I had to sign with a stylus.

My signature never looks like my signature on one of those machines.
Wearing a wrist splint on my left hand makes it difficult to write neatly.
This really is my signature, I said trying to convince myself.
No one’s signature looks right on that thing, she said emphatically.

It’s like writing on an Etch A Sketch, she remarked.
Her analogy caught me by surprise.
I walked out of the store, carrying my bag, and thinking about what she said.
She was so right.

My signature never looks like mine when I use one of those machines.
There is nothing I can do about it.
Good penmanship, that was expected when I was in school, is impossible on one of those things.
Sometimes a stylus is not available, so signing with your finger is required.

How far we have come.
Giant stapler-like machines that made triplicate copies of your credit card.
Swiping the magnetic strip of your credit card in a machine when you make a purchase.
Inserting your credit card into a chip reader, sometimes without needing to sign.

I liked the woman’s Etch A Sketch analogy.
The Etch A Sketch was my least favorite toy.
It was impossible to draw using only two knobs that created lineographic images.
I did not like to feel so confined when I wanted to be creative.

Lineography is the art of drawing without lifting the pen, pencil, or paintbrush.
Lineography originated in France in the seventeenth century.
By the early nineteenth century, the art of lineography fell into disuse.
It became popular again in 1960 with the release of the Etch A Sketch.

My signature, on one of those machines with a stylus, looks like gibberish to me.
It does not allow for uniqueness.
My personality, apparent in my handwriting, does not shine through.
It is cold, impersonal, and does indeed remind me of an Etch A Sketch.

When the Lord finished speaking to Moses on Mount Sinai, he gave him the two tablets of the covenant law, the tablets of stone inscribed by the finger of God. (Exodus 31:18)

Can you imagine the two stone tablets on which God wrote the Ten Commandments?
Can you imagine God writing each Commandment with His finger?
No stylus needed.
God’s majesty shone through.

The Ten Commandments cause so many battles in court rooms and public buildings.
The Ten Commandments are dismissed by many.
The Ten Commandments teach us how to relate to God and to others.
The Ten Commandments were written with the finger of God.

The finger of God.
That should astound us.
That should make us pay attention to each one.
That should make us see the importance of obeying each of God’s commandments.

A trip to my local market made me think of all of these things.
Signing my name with my finger made me think of God writing with His.
Amazing.
Truly amazing.