Infinite Money Glitch: ATM That Kept Giving

[justseyi]

The Infinite Money Glitch: Dan Saunders and the ATM That Kept on Giving: True Life Story

Picture this: It’s 2011, and you’re Dan Saunders, a 29-year-old bartender in Wangaratta, a dusty Australian town where the biggest thrill is the local pub on a Saturday night. You’re not rich—far from it. You’re scraping by, pouring beers, and dodging bills like most folks your age.

One night, you’re out with mates, a few drinks deep, and your card’s running dry. You stumble to an ATM, punch in a $200 transfer from your credit card to your savings account to keep the night alive. The machine whirs, thinks, then spits out a message: Transaction Canceled. Your card pops out. Annoying, but whatever. Then, the impossible happens—the ATM coughs up the $200 anyway. Cash in hand, no overdraft alert, no nothing. You blink, pocket the money, and head back to the bar, chalking it up to dumb luck.

But on the walk home, something nags at you. Was that a fluke? A glitch? A gift from the universe? Curiosity—maybe spiked by a few too many beers—pulls you back to the same ATM. You try again: $200 transfer. Same error. Cash out. Then $500. Cash out. $600. Cash out.

No alarms, no balance checks, just crisp Australian bills piling up in your hands. You’re standing there, heart racing, staring at a National Australia Bank ATM like it’s a slot machine stuck on jackpot. You’ve just stumbled into the infinite money glitch—a real-life cheat code that’d make any gamer jealous.

This is the story of how Dan Saunders, an ordinary bloke, turned a banking bug into a $1.6 million, five-month bender that’d rival a Hollywood blockbuster, only to crash back to earth in a blaze of cops, courts, and regret.

The Glitch That Started It All
Let’s set the scene. It’s early 2011, and Dan’s living the grind in Wangaratta, a regional speck three hours north of Melbourne. Think small-town vibes: quiet streets, a handful of pubs, and a community where everyone knows your business. Dan’s not a criminal mastermind—he’s just a guy with a knack for noticing details. That night at the ATM, he realizes something’s seriously off.

The National Australia Bank’s system has a flaw: When you request a transfer between accounts, the ATM tries to process it but fails to sync with the bank’s mainframe, especially during off-hours when systems lag. The error message says “nope,” but the cash drawer says “yep.” No overdraft limits, no checks—just free money.

Dan tests the waters cautiously at first. A few hundred here, a thousand there. He’s not robbing a bank with a ski mask; he’s just hitting “withdraw” and watching the machine obey.

He later learns the glitch isn’t just his local ATM—it’s a nationwide bug affecting a few NAB machines, a rare slip in their software that lets withdrawals bypass balance checks.

For now, though, it’s his little secret. He starts small, paying off a mate’s bar tab, grabbing a fancy dinner. But the temptation’s too strong, like finding a genie’s lamp with no three-wish limit. What would you do?

The Spree: Living Like a Rogue Billionaire
By week two, Dan’s not just dipping his toes—he’s diving headfirst into the deep end. He figures out the glitch works best at odd hours, like 2 a.m., when the bank’s systems are sleepier than a koala on Valium. He hits ATMs across town, pulling thousands a night.

The cash stacks up, and so does his nerve. Within weeks, he’s got tens of thousands. Then hundreds. By the end of his run, he’s siphoned off $1.6 million AUD (about $1 million USD in 2011). This isn’t a heist; it’s a glitch-fueled fever dream.

Dan doesn’t just spend—he lives. Picture this:

Private jets and penthouses: He charters flights to Sydney, Melbourne, even interstate hops, sipping champagne at 30,000 feet. Five-star hotels become his crash pads—think marble bathrooms, skyline views, and room service that costs more than his old weekly rent.

Parties that legends are made of: Dan throws bashes that’d make Gatsby blush. He rents out venues, flies in DJs, and covers bar tabs for entire crowds. One night, he’s said to have dropped $10,000 on drinks alone. Mates who barely scraped by are now toasting his name.

Big-spender vibes: He buys cars for his family—a shiny new ride for his sister, another for his parents. He pays off friends’ uni debts, funds a mate’s wedding, even charters a helicopter for a pizza run because, why not? If you’ve got infinite cash, what’s a chopper bill?

Global gallivanting: Thailand’s beaches, Vegas casinos, international jaunts—he’s living like a tech bro with a black card. Gambling dens see him dropping stacks on poker and pokies (slot machines, Aussie-style), chasing the high of easy money.

Dan knows it’s too good to last. Every withdrawal’s a gamble—will the bank catch on? Will the ATM finally say no? But the thrill’s addictive, and he’s not hurting anyone, right? It’s just a glitch, not a stick-up. He tells himself the bank’s got billions—they’ll sort it out. He quits his bartending gig, moves to Melbourne for a fresh scene, and leans into the high life. For five months, he’s untouchable, a small-town kid turned rogue tycoon.

The Crash: When the Glitch Gets Patched
Around month five, the party screeches to a halt. The bank’s tech team finally sniffs out the glitch—turns out, Dan wasn’t the only one exploiting it, though he was the flashiest. NAB patches the system, and the ATMs stop spitting free cash. Worse, Dan’s spending has left a neon trail: private jet receipts, luxury car purchases, and a lifestyle screaming “audit me.” The cops come knocking, and Dan, sensing the noose, turns himself in. He’s not built for a life on the lam, and he hopes fessing up might buy leniency.

In 2013, he’s hit with over 70 counts of fraud and theft. The courtroom’s a spectacle—prosecutors struggle to explain the glitch (even NAB’s techies seem foggy on it), and the judge looks like he’s hearing a sci-fi plot. Dan’s defense leans hard on the “it’s the bank’s fault” angle: The system let him do it, he never lied or hacked, and he figured they’d claw it back eventually. It’s not exactly Ocean’s Eleven—more like Accidental Millionaire. The bank’s evidence is shaky; they can’t fully pin down how much was intentional fraud versus a system error.

Verdict? A slap on the wrist, all things considered: an 18-month suspended sentence (no jail time) and a brutal repayment order—$1.6 million, at $10,000 a month for 12 years. That’s $120K a year on a bartender’s wage. Good luck. The court paints him as reckless, not evil, but the debt’s a life sentence of its own.

The Aftermath: From King to Cautionary Tale
The comedown’s rough. Dan’s empire of excess crumbles. He blows chunks of the remaining cash on pokies, chasing the rush that’s gone. Relationships fray—friends who partied on his dime drift off, and the guilt of squandering a fortune sets in. He moves back to Wangaratta, takes up odd jobs, and grapples with the void left by his wild ride. The gambling bug bites hard; he later admits to addiction, burning through whatever scraps he had left.

By 2025, Dan’s cleaned up his act. He’s shared his saga on podcasts like The Glitch and in docuseries, spinning it into a warning: Easy money’s a trap. The thrill’s real, but it’s a house of cards. He’s back to a quiet life, wiser but broke, haunted by the what-ifs. Could he have played it smarter? Stashed some cash offshore? Nah, he says—he was too caught up in the moment.

The Bigger Picture: A Glitch in the Matrix
Dan’s story isn’t just a wild yarn—it’s a peek into human nature. What do you do when the system hands you a cheat code? Most of us would test it once, maybe twice. Dan went all-in, and for a fleeting moment, he lived the dream we’ve all fantasized about. But the aftermath—cops, debt, regret—shows the house always wins. Banks have tightened their systems since; no one’s pulling this off today without a SWAT team on their tail.

It’s also a time capsule of 2011, when banking tech was clunkier, and a small-town kid could outsmart a billion-dollar institution, if only for a summer. Think of it like finding a bug in GTA V’s economy—you’d buy every supercar before Rockstar patched it. Dan did that, IRL, and paid the price.

So, next time you’re at an ATM and it hiccups, maybe don’t push your luck. Dan Saunders tried, and for five glorious months, he was a king. Then the glitch closed, and reality hit like a hangover.

[Shekinah Brama]

Lucky bastard!

[Author]

Posts