Three years ago, it happened to me. I reached into my mailbox and found the piece of plastic that gave me the gift of buying power, my most prized possession and endless worry. I was broke and it gave me solace. I was hungry and it gave me food. I was cold and it provided me with warmth. It shimmered in the halogen lights of my local supermarket.
My love soon grew into hate.
Yes, I have discovered all of the endless possibilities with my Discover Card. I never wanted it this way. I couldn't help but desire and drool over inanimate objects. I never had a chance to be any other way. Aroused and stimulated by green plastic cups, antique lamp shades and tickets to shows - I was duped, herded along, confused, with a pen in my hand signing my financial life away. My internal calendar now runs according to the 11th of each month, my payment schedule. This endless cycle has taken over my existence.
Credit card companies are like hawks. They circle overhead and seek out weak, young, ripe, "reliable" students and then swoop down and attack them, ripping out their insides. Recently, I saw an advertisement for a credit card with an American flag embossed on the front of it that reminded me of their deviant ways. Is this a silent request for the American public to buy something, to revive the economy and show our patriotism through purchasing power? Red, white and blue in all its glory, a national symbol supposed to represent freedom, put on a piece of plastic that has taken my freedom away.
The kings of all capitalists, credit card companies, have turned recent events into a commodity. If Mr. and Mrs. America want to buy something to help out, let them do it, but as a college student, thanks, but I think I'll pass. I'll find my own way to be patriotic, and I can guarantee that it won't have anything to do with a Betsy Ross or Abraham Lincoln ceramic mug set.
Advertisements show the young girl at the party with the tube top and the jumbo hoop earrings having the time of her life. She has a look of unrelenting happiness on her face, realizing this was all made possible by Visa. I, in turn, have a look of utter disbelief on my face when I see credit card representatives set up all around campus. They offer sweatshirts, key chains, and calling cards - all of these exciting gifts for just five minutes of our time. Five minutes of our time that eventually translates into years of frustration. Sometimes I slow down when I walk by just to listen to a little voice in my head that tells me that they're only trying to make a living.
Then I remember I need to eat too. I silently go over all of the other professions that are out there. Believe me, I love a hard worker, but a carpenter, a computer technician, a tattoo artist - these are all good professions that don't shamelessly try to suck the life from me.
Membership fees, over the limit fees, late fees, and the obscure, state of South Dakota fees are all tacked on monthly without hesitation and prevent me from making sound progress. If I can't pay them $15 dollars, how can I pay the $25 over the limit fee and the $25 late fee? That's just it. That's the trick of credit. They keep us as a link in their unbroken chain and only the lucky can escape. For me, and others like me, it's month after month of scraping by to make minimum payments.
I won't lie; I wanted that corduroy jacket, the book, the used '88 Camry. Looking around, I felt like I needed them. But now, all I really need is for Visa, MasterCard and Discover to give me a break. People are always trying to reassure me that having a credit card is a good thing. "It will build your credit," they say. "You will never be able to buy a house without a solid credit history," they say. Well, I say I don't want the house, car or the card. I just want my financial freedom back.
In other countries, people don't even have basic human rights and I worry about my financial freedom? It baffles me as to how I have taken on qualities comparable to the average QVC shopper. "If I can just pay off the $1,000 to Visa by this spring, then I can start shopping early for Christmas" - words I promise myself daily I will never utter.
Bankruptcy's neon lights forever flicker in my mind's eye. Seven years of "bad credit" will await me if I file bankruptcy. It's just another price to pay for the easy way out.
