I take full responsibility for my $50,000 in debt. Of course, I had a little help. One credit card company offered me presents when I signed up for an account. Another kindly increased my credit limit to $5,000; I didn’t even have to ask. A third offered me a no-interest, no-payment plan for the first six months. And, in a time of need, another creditor raised my interest rate to a modest 26 percent. (Given that they could have raised it to 28 or 30 percent, I am forever in their debt.)
When it comes to alcohol, tobacco and trans fats, there has been a certain degree of government intervention for the public good. Not as much with the consumer debt industry. This makes sense, since a little piece of plastic can’t really affect my health. Unless you count the overbearing stress of mounting bills. Or the detrimental nutritional effects of eating 99-cent TV dinners in a misguided effort to make headway on my minimum payments.
One of my most vivid memories of freshman year at college is seeing industry representatives offer students cool presents when they signed up for their first piece of plastic. I knew better then. It wasn’t until graduation that the meaning of “out-of-state tuition” really hit home. Moving back to Colorado required a reliable vehicle, a computer and a few items of furniture for my apartment. I suppose I didn’t need any of those items, but people don’t need to drink, smoke or eat fast food, either.
Just five years ago, I was the poster child for the American Dream. I was going to work hard in school, get a good degree and be a millionaire by age 25. Well, here I am. I’m 25, and I’m deep in the red – and I’m not alone. More than 115 million Americans are in the same boat, carrying monthly credit card debt along with college loans and mortgages. Somewhere along the line, we have redefined the concept of the American Dream. The old “start-with-nothing-and-build- something” paradigm of success has evolved into a multistaged process:
Step 1: Dig out of massive debt hole (with tablespoon);
Step 2: Start with nothing;
Step 3: Build something.
There’s even a name for us folks. People who carry a monthly balance on their cards are known as “revolvers.” We are the quintessential G-Spot (green spot) of the credit card industry, producing $30 billion in profit before taxes.
In turn, the credit card companies show us the love. As a marketing professional and business major, I can’t help but admire the many and varied efforts of creditors to woo me for life. There are the clever “Priceless” and “What’s In Your Wallet?” commercials. The never-ending stream of direct mail offers that could be used to repopulate the devastated rainforests of the Amazon. The mock credit card magnets that cover my fridge (which is full of 99-cent TV dinners). The countless times I’ve been asked by a Victoria’s Secret employee if I have an “Angels Rewards Card” (translation: credit card wrapped in a pair of free panties). The credit limit increases I don’t authorize. The substantial interest rate hikes when I occasionally slip up and the flaming hoops I have to jump through to get my rate back down. Oh, and the fine print.
But I’m telling you, I blame only myself. And I solemnly accept the many years of hard labor it will take to work my way out of debt. So that one day, I can plant my feet firmly on ground, look toward the sky and once again reach for the American Dream.
Dina Chaiffetz (dmchaz5@yahoo.com) is marketing director for a THINK360, a nonprofit arts-education organization, and owner of the online eurban art company.
