That Troublesome Plastic

I'm glad my parents taught me how to be financially responsible.

The other day I went to my credit union to apply for a credit card. I already have a credit card, which I use for emergencies and rare times when I buy a plane ticket or two, but I would like to get rid of that card so I can be fully invested in my wonderful, non-profit credit union. I've decided I'm done with those corporate banks.

So I walked in and asked how I could go about applying for a credit card. A very friendly employee said she could help me out and we started the process. She asked me where I'm currently employed. I told her Austin Presbyterian Theological Seminary. She asked me what my job title is. I told her "bookstore cashier." She asked me what my monthly income is. I told her "about $250." Then her jaw dropped a bit. She asked me how much my monthly rent is. I told her "$425." She didn't seem pleased at this point, but I explained that I'm a grad student on scholarship. This didn't seem to impress her.

She ran my credit check and as we waited for the results she told me I could only qualify for a $500 limit. Then my jaw dropped a little bit. $500? That's it? She got my credit score back and was pleasantly surprised by what she saw. She said she could raise my limit up to $1000. I would have preferred a bit more wiggle room, but settled for the $1000 limit. I realize that this credit union is not in the business of giving out credit cards to irresponsible folks. I appreciate that a lot, actually.

When I got home I checked the mail and found two pieces for me. One was from Discover, offering me a $25,000 card and the other from Chase offering me a $10,000 card. I tore them up and shook my head.

I'm glad my parents taught me how to be financially responsible.