Credit is but debt prone to avalanche
"A credit card is a lie," I told myself, the jostling of plastic bags in hand creating a flurry of sound not unlike the sea spritzing up ‘gainst jagged rocks. But when the good people at Capital One saw fit to bestow a Silver Platinum Visa on my ass, my first credit card in ten years, I couldn’t help but celebrate.
So, after buying food, Rite Aid-type essentials, and new white undershirts for work, I treated myself to some new CDs instead of the usual used ones. And that was only because the used CD shop near my house has shite for dance music, and only after I applied my "Always put one thing back" rule for final purchases.
Just plumb wild, aren’t I?
It’s the result of my first experience with credit cards. You know, common sense and basic human empathy keep us from committing crimes that could land us in jail for several years. But credit card management can only ever be learned, and never truly mastered. And if left unchecked, it can quickly become a blight on your credit report sentencing you to seven (7) years of severe life restrictions. Like, say you want to live somewhere. Better have been born there or else have a semi-spotless credit report, ’cause even the grubbiest of landlords will run one on you.
I was a mere child when I unwittingly signed up for a Visa, Mastercard, and Discover Card at one of the insidious vendors lined up outside my college campus’s main food court. What basis for fiscal responsibility did I have except for the fact that I was getting a higher education? Still, the credit card companies sent ‘em, and I certainly used ‘em, dismissing my mounting debt as a problem for some future version of myself. Personally, I think it’s a little evil to hawk credit cards to eighteen-year-olds who are newly on their own away at college for the first time. But that’s just me.
Now that the damage done has been cleared away (well, more like dropped away) and I’ve been given a fresh new start, I plan to make the folks at Capital One proud. Or at least wealthier. Although I think the sizzling kernel of buyer’s remorse I felt last night coupled with the fact that I felt like I was committing identity theft with every purchase I made (stealing from my future self, that’s what it was…ooh…deeeep….) bode well for my recovery. On a scale of 1 (freewheeling spender) to 5 (only for emergencies), I’d say I’m a 3.5 (use as needed and thensome, attendant guilt with each use). God knows I’ve gone through enough money problems this year alone to go stepping right back into another steaming pile of monetary dog shit.
