Give Credit Where Credit Is Due

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credit card poop

This week is one for the history books. As civilized folks, we traverse each day in the hopes of gaining ground in some aspect of our lives. Whether it be physically, mentally, socially, etc., we all (some more than others) want to improve our situation in life, and I have done it, my friends, I have done it. I made a giant leap toward securing my future, and dare I say it, truly becoming a real, red-blooded American. Yesterday, I achieved that which I never thought possible . . . I got my very first credit card.

At the tender age of just 35, one of our esteemed financial institutions, in all their infinite wisdom, have deemed little old me responsible enough to make essential purchases with their newfangled paperless money system. They have bestowed upon me a great honor. I now possess a card that I can use to buy goods or services at all my favorite spots, like Hickory Farms, The Honey Baked Ham Store, and Dollar General—or even Honey Baked Ham online. It’s just a regular old card that fits comfortably right there in my wallet. In fact, there was a spot in my wallet that fits it perfectly, almost as if it was designed specifically to hold them. There’s even about 10 more spaces just like it, although I can’t imagine someone would be lucky enough to have more than one of these babies, but I can dream, right?

I have so far in life had pretty positive experiences with other forms of credit, and I think I’ve got a pretty good grasp of the concept. My first, was with a very similar looking card that I could use at my nearby public library. Much like my new credit card, all I had to do was give them my name and address, and that was all they needed to know, to trust me to take any books from them that I wanted. Books, of course, are not as practical as money, so I took the handful I wanted and never went back, but it was nice to be thought trustworthy enough to take care of someone else’s property.

A little later in life I was blessed with the opportunity to receive twelve compact discs (remember those?) for the low, low cost of only one penny, as long as I promised to purchase one more at regular price sometime down the road. Unbelievable, right? This unthinkable deal was offered to me no doubt because the powers that be had heard how well I had handled the responsibility of caring for some dusty old books that I didn’t even want. Well, I got my 12 cds and then felt it would be extremely irresponsible to spend money that I didn’t actually have to purchase another single CD at retail value. After discussing the matter at length with the company’s numerous creditors, they obviously found my honesty to be a breath of fresh air, because not once, nor twice, but three times more, did they allow me to receive an astounding 12 CDs for one penny without the promised followup. They must’ve thought pretty highly of me.

This whole thing is still boggling my mind. FREE money with no foreseeable negative consequences—just rewards. It’s almost like when you were a kid and some guy you don’t even know is sitting in a big badass white van near the playground at school just giving away free candy. That only happened once that I can recall, and my stupid parents picked me up before I could go over there and take some, but Billy Jenkins went over there, and he not only got some candy, but he got to be on TV that night, too! So who knows what other hidden prizes this little magic card might hold for me, but I can’t wait to start using it and find out.

All that’s left for me now is to figure out how I’m going to spend this $300 limit they’ve been so kind to allow me. I guess I can check and see if Honey Baked sells cds too. They gotta be really cheap by now.