God Forgives. VISA Does Not -Part 1 - By Drew Dyck

In the movies reckless addictions lead to spectacular, climactic explosions: a brutal accident, a fistfight, a dramatic confrontation. So I was a little surprised when my addiction ended quietly; just me holding a steaming chilidog and a super Big Gulp while a line of people behind me shuffled restlessly.

“I’m sorry,” whispered the teen-ager behind the counter, shaking her head, “this isn’t going through.” I squinted and feigned confusion. She raised her voice. “Your credit card isn’t working.” My faced flushed. I smiled weakly at the onlookers, surrendered my chilidog and slinked out the door.

Skulking across the parking lot, a scene flashed before my mind’s eye like a fuzzy dream bubble in a soap opera. The scene was from a year before. The location was the bank near my college. After opening a checking account the lady asked me nonchalantly, “Would you like a Visa with that?” It was like she was offering me fries with my burger or ice cream with my cake. It was so casual. I didn’t even think to decline.

It was my first day of college. I had just registered for the fall term classes, moved into a room on campus and waved goodbye to my parents. My world was changing so rapidly that I hardly noticed when the little plastic creature slipped into my wallet.

At first having the card was pure bliss: fully financed trips to the mall, late-night junk food runs. “Who wants pizza? I’ve got it covered,” I’d boast. I’d whip the card out of my pocket like a gunslinger drawing his weapon. Initially the minimum monthly payment was negligible so I kept trucking. And once I reached my first limit I was rewarded with a new goal!

I had met with a new breed of pleasure. I was experiencing the joy of buying without the pain of spending. I had always hated passing bright, crisp bills into the hand of a stranger. I would imagine the faces on the bills frowning up at me as they slid across the cashier’s counter. “Bye, bye, poorer master.”

But this was just plastic! Of course I wasn’t quite dumb enough to believe I wasn’t being charged. Alas it turns out that the mind is no match for the senses, because I kept going.
After my public humiliation at the convenience store, I received the fateful statement; the one telling me I’d gone several hundred dollars beyond my limit. Suddenly they were demanding the minimum payment plus the overage. The introductory 9% A.P.R. disappeared like a toupee in a windstorm. In its place was by a blistering 21%. The honeymoon was over.

It was a tough lesson for a freshman, one that stretched out for three years as I struggled to pay down the balance. But I learned from it. Now a hard-bitten grad student I know better. The financial perils of student life led me to take extreme measures to avoid unnecessary debt. My two credit cards (with low balances and interest rates) are suspended in a massive block of ice and buried deep in the freezer. The addiction is not dead. I still feel their pull. Occasionally I peak in on them. They seem to call to me from their icy graves, like cryogenically frozen bodies yearning for a second life. “I’m sorry,” I mouth tenderly through the frigid vapors. “It’s not you. It’s me.” I show new credit applications absolutely zero compassion. They are automatically consigned to the shredder.

My credit card addiction got the better of me. But I’m not alone. More than ever young people are burdened with debt. In it’s recent report, “Generation Broke: The Growth of Debt Among Young Americans,” Demos, a nonpartisan, nonprofit research organization found that among 18-24 year olds:

the average credit card debt load rose 104 percent from 1992 to 2001; compared to only 55 percent among other age groups.

71 percent make only the minimum payment, carrying their balances over every month.

a quarter of every dollar earned is spent on debt payments.

(contined next blog...)