Me, My Debt and My Discover Card

by Rachel Mack

I was 23 when I moved into my first apartment on my own. I had a couple credit cards from my college years, which I’d always paid off in full each month, according to my dad’s advice on how to build good credit. At my new apartment, the deluge of credit card pre-approval letters started almost immediately, and the Discover Corporation was my most prolific correspondent. I’d open my mailbox every day and find a letter enclosed with a sheet of bright, shiny card designs. The ones I remember now are a field of clover, a blue geometric pattern, and the classic silver Discover card. I could choose any one I wanted! But I didn’t want one.

The waste of paper infuriated me. I was young and dumb, so after two years of trashing torn-up pre-approvals, I decided the best way to stop them was to apply for the card, so I filled in my information and sent it back. Within days I had the blue geometric card — a set of boxes filled in with lighter blue circles — stowed away in a little box on my desk. It wasn’t for spending. It was for establishing a long credit history and stopping the slew of junk mail.

I was wrong on two out of three counts. Having had this card for 10 years does make a big positive difference in my current credit score. But I did use it to spend, and for the first time ever, I spent beyond my ability to pay in full each month. On top of that, Discover started sending me packets of cash advance checks. Every day I had the ability to write six checks to whomever I wanted — at an interest rate of 27.99 percent.

Thanks to being raised by financially savvy parents, I knew better than to use the checks. The thick packet got ripped and tossed every day, but the card itself was another story. I was living on a graduate student stipend in Tuscaloosa, Alabama. The irony, I believed, was that I had lots of time but no money. I had no plans to live in the South long-term and I was missing out on experiences because of my limited cash. Why not take a trip every few months to New Orleans, or Atlanta, or the Gulf Coast? I could pay it back later when I had a full-time job. The situation would be reversed. I’d have more money but no time.

I signed up for photography class. The intro class had a lab fee that wasn’t covered by my tuition stipend. I also had to purchase an SLR camera, film, and photo paper. But this was an investment! I made the protagonist of my thesis (a novel) a photographer. My photography professor sat on my committee. I couldn’t have written the book credibly without the knowledge I gained in that class, so the debt felt worth it.

On one trip to New Orleans, I picked up the tab at dinner and my friends reimbursed me with cash. This was the kind of habit that got my balance up into the thousands. Every six months I’d receive a letter stating they’d upped my credit limit another $500, and every time, my stomach dropped to the floor. Finally, I called Discover and asked to stop. “I don’t need to be able to go $9,000 in debt,” I said.

“Okay,” the operator said. “I’ll turn off the auto review for your account.”

“Thank you!” I said, and he chuckled a little. That’s one of the funny things about Discover. Though I’d come to think of them as unapologetic predators and money thieves, their customer service reps always sound as if they’re having a laid back day at the beach.

By the time I left Alabama, I had run the card up to $6,000. It was time to put the “Less time, more money” post-graduate repayment plan into action. I had about $500 left over every month after I paid for rent and other essentials. Luckily, I was living in a dull college town with no friends so I put all of my extra cash toward the credit card balance every month. I worked on a 10-month contract and it took the full 10 months to pay off the balance. I ended the school year with zero savings, zero debt, and the rent barely paid. I was proud of myself for paying off the debt in less than a year and vowed never to let myself get in debt like that again.

Every time I opened my wallet, I caught a glimpse of my Discover Card (I’d since switched to the classic silver card design) and cursed it, remembering my year of no spending money and usurious interest rates. By that time, about five years into owning the card, they’d given up on sending me cash advance checks. They arrived once every six months or so, rather than every day. I might use the card occasionally but I was back into paying off the balance monthly and thinking of the card as an emergency life raft: only to be used if my car broke down in the middle of nowhere.

Then, two years later, I joined an AmeriCorps program. My stipend was just enough to pay rent, my car payment, and utilities. Everything else, from gas to dental floss and soap, went on the Discover card. I hated doing that to myself, but there was no better-paying alternative that I believed was worth doing. After a year, I had $7,000 on the card. This time, I got a windfall: My grandfather passed away and I inherited exactly that much. While I was waiting for the inheritance check, I went out with my friend Jenna, a fellow AmeriCorps volunteer. For a year, we’d bonded while doing things that were free or extremely cheap. We slipped into a bar before the cover charge started and I insisted on buying a couple rounds. When she told me not to get hers, I was giddy. “SEVEN THOUSAND DOLLARS! SEVEN THOUSAND DOLLARS! I can buy us a couple drinks!”

I’d been confident when I took the AmeriCorps job that I’d find my way back to a comfortable middle-class job soon, which was how I justified the credit card use. I was wrong. Four years later, I’m just now getting back to a comfortable income. Since that inheritance came, I ran up my Discover balance another $9,000, then paid it off with student loan dollars. I now have 10 years of student loan payments ahead of me, half of which is the actual cost of my degree and half of which is my credit card debt and personal expenses from the last four years.

I’ve let this happen enough times that I know better than to say it will never happen again. I’m a homeowner, and until I’ve worked for a a couple years and built up some savings, my backup plan in case of emergency is to put any necessary home repairs or appliance replacements on the Discover card. I’m also ready to admit that my burning hatred of the Discover Corporation is unjustified. The card has been my safety net for my entire adult life. As a long-standing account holder with no missed payments, it’s a part of the good credit history that allowed me to buy my home at a low interest rate. I only spend cash now, and I hope never to have my income drop to the point that I can’t cover essentials. But it’s there, just in case.

Rachel Mack lives in Louisville, KY. She collects here writing at rachel-mack.tumblr.com

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