The Hierarchy of Woe Can Only Be Heard From The Top
When I was nineteen years old and applied for my very first credit card, I was denied. DENIED. I was told that I owed thousands of dollars. No one cared that the person they were claiming to be me had a diminutive form of my real first name and a totally different middle name. No they did not care. Their records said I should be treated like shit, so I was treated like shit. Every agency I went to when I tried to clear up this wrong information treated me with suspicion, with contempt. One woman told me to my face that my zip code alone made me suspect. A few years later an auto insurance company told me my insurance would be higher if I bought a car because of my zip code. My dear friend who still lives in that zip code just got her fucking electricity turned back on yesterday, which had been off since Hurricane Ike struck the gulf coast. No one gives a damn about us, the dregs of society. If we do manage to get our little $300 credit limit Visa, something obtained by providing a security deposit, because we either have bad credit or no credit, no one comes in and offers to pay if we default. No, instead 39 additional dollars is tacked on as a late fee along with an additional $39 over the limit fee, because if the minimum payment is met however late, it still causes the balance to go over the limit, thus causing an over the limit fee, read your contract dumb girl. And of course it comes along with a 22.99% or higher rate because that is the rate one must have if he or she has bad credit or no credit and live in particular zip codes and never had the privilege of having a spin off card from mommy or daddy to get them started.
I do not care about the people above me, you know the homeowners either, the ones who wanted to blah blah blah blah have the American Dream, or is it have the McMansion in order to look like the other McMcDonalds who could not afford the fucking houses they just had to have from the giddy up. Oh no, they did not bite off more than they can chew, unlike those shitty ass poor folks over there in the wrong zip code who had no experience with managing credit cards but used that credit card to buy some bling and some leather boots. No those always do right homeowners just thought some how their flimsily secured job would never disappear and that between the two SUVs, gas, soccer, eating out several times a week, paying the illegal aliens, I mean undocumented worker gardener, some how the money tree would produce enough to pay for it all and of course daddy and mommy could throw them a band aid every now and again and there is always you know expectations, hoping mom and pop kick the bucket, because what the hell, can’t take it with you, —love you mom and dad the tanning salon is calling.
See, they get to whine whine all the way home and blame it on the banks. Why didn’t the banks baby sit them and refuse them credit. It was the banks job to determine if they could afford the loans. They should not be held responsible. No, those dregs of society who used their $300 credit card limit to buy a gold chain and a fly outfit should be held accountable, but not them, they wanted a house not a gold rope. Whahhhhh, my credit is going to be ruined for seven years, on paper I will be just like those low-lives in that zip code over there, those people who the I.R.S garnishes their wages, those people who department stores actually take to court (not just threaten to take to court).
I do not care about the people above those home owners, you know the bankers, the ones who get big fat commissions along with their fat ass real estate buddies who like to flip this house and screw over the mindless McMcDonalds and the inspiring to become McMcDonalds who sooooooooooooo desperately want a house…….they just got to have one…….who cares if there is no back yard and the next door neighbors bedroom window lines up directly in sight of the child’s bedroom and there is no outside garden for a kid much less a dog and if you want to smoke in the back yard the old farting fuck whose bedroom is down by your backyard turns the bathroom light on and off and passive aggressively exaggerates his coughing, and the amount offered by the banks is mathematical impossible to pay off in one’s life time, we need to buy, buy, buy, build, build, build, sell, sell, sell, mortgage, mortgage, mortgage…….I need to go to Greece for the summer holidays you fucks, I need more, more, MORE!
Whahhh my stocks are plummeting, who is going to help…where is Uncle Sugar…..my credit is going to be ruined, on paper I’m going to look like those low level McMcDonalds in those tasteless beige McMansions….I may have to shop at the mall.
I do not care about Wall Street, those CEOs who threaten to jump out of windows, who cooked books, lied and lied hoping their fingers could plug one more hole in the sieve of a submarine they have been frolicking in for eight years. Just hold on boys Election Day is right around the corner, STICK YOUR TOE in that hole to the left there Karl, we have less than a month and then we all can pack up and meet in the Mediterranean.
Fuck you fuck you fuck you all motherfuckers I don’t care if we end up trading salt for stale coffee no one told you to bite off more than you can chew. Where is that personal responsibility now? Where are your bootstraps now? I have a few I could loan you. You have given me hundreds already. I think I can give a few back.
Nevertheless, I am far too cynical to enjoy this potential Schadenfreude. Because we know in the end who will come out on top, don’t we? The game is set up that way.