when I worked for the one percent


Eli was born at Truman Hospital in Kansas City, Missouri by emergency c-section.

Truman is the "public hospital" or at least used to be. It's the place where the indigent go, victims of violent crime, the ones who waited through sickness until nearly dead before finally attempting to get treatment, and people like us.

Many of Truman's bills were forgiven, as was mine. It was the equivalent of a years' wage. I offered to give them back the child  which they considered, then declined. 



But by the time he was ready to start kindergarten I had changed jobs to one with a nearly livable salary (still no health care insurance, needless to say), saved a little bit of money, and set out to pursue the American dream; home ownership.

It was 1998 and times seemed good. Times were good.



The nice lady at Mercantile Bank (now US Bank) got us into a "first time buyers program" and helped to clear the bug-a-boos from my precious credit report (remarkably, the Truman Hospital bill was not amongst those). Seemed miraculous, but in no time at all we were handed the keys to 'our own' home, in a seed area (the upper ghetto) where we were gifted 10 percent of the purchase price through the CHIPS program at closing.

Thusly, the dead-end ghetto estate era began rather joyfully- house payment less than rent- elementary school a short walk around the corner- wife in the midst of a period of minimal insanity.

But ah, the beginning of the end  was soon to come. When things seem to be going well, watch your back!

Credit report being recently scrubbed shiny and a few mortgage payments made on time, card offers began to roll in.

At 40 years of age I had never had or missed having a credit card, but rationalized that it might be nice for emergencies, etc. (as I had been told), and succumbed to the temptation.  

One card with a five hundred dollar limit, at first. I tentatively made a small purchase, enjoying slightly the absurd notion that they had given ME one of these crazy pieces of plastic. HA, but that day, somewhere deep within, I knewthat I had taken my first step towards the most slippery of slopes.

However, being too smart for them, I paid the bill in full on the day it arrived. Whew.. no balance left, no interest paid.

Little did I know that I had passed a test that day.

The accounting gremlin, who had been banished to the North Dakota branch for what must have been some terrible misdeed, deposited my check, raised my FICA score by a hundred points, then sent a handwritten note via winged monkey courier to the big guy himself at his marble palace in the Hamptons.


The note read "BOSS, WE HAVE A LIVE ONE!"

The boss, a true one percenter who had never raised a finger for any sort of labor, snatched the note from the exhausted monkey, let ring an earthshaking BWAHAHAHAHA, then summoned a brace of hookers who had previously been virtuous young ladies before letting their credit scores drop below five hundred (he kept the girls on retainer, at minimum wage), to file his hooves- his way of celebrating.

In two years time my property had  'doubled in value.' 

-Refinance, well of course! Used some of the money to buy another house, a HUD foreclosure, for cheap. Fixed it up, rented it out, re-fied, bought another.

The cards kept rolling in, ones with larger credit limits. I used them to buy materials to fix up the investments. That seemed justifiable. I had a long term plan now! 

I had 9 mortgage payments, and near the same number of credit card payments each month, but the rents rolled in including a tidy profit... I re-fied large sums out of each property, tax free profit as it was a loan which in theory was paid back by the renters.

Until... they didn't pay. Our collective had bubble burst. 

Still I plodded on. I had a project that needed materials to finish and times were no longer good, but then as if an answer to a prayer, CHASE raised my credit limit by a thousand!

I bought what I needed on the card and then... the bill arrived. My preferred customer 6% rate had been upped to 24% because I had used the credit they had offered, putting me over some imaginary boundary they had made up overnight, without telling me. Never once, had I made a late payment... up to that point.

The gig was up. My minimum credit card payments were over a grand per month... all interest, and the one percenters were pleased, until I stopped paying them.



Recently I received a credit card offer. The VISA lemon card. 


 "When life throws you lemons... get aid"

"In the form of, yes, another credit card. Because you've made some really bad money choices in the past, what've you got to lose now? When you apply for a VISA Lemon Card account, all your existing credit balances are rolled in - at a new introductory interest rate of 0% (rate increases to 342% after sixty days)! You will receive your new VISA Lemon Card in the mail and, yes, it will have a photo of lemons on it, just like the fake one enclosed. This universal symbol for credit risk alerts retail associates the world over to the fact that you have agreed to the terms and may therefore be denied all but the most basic provisions outlined in the lowest two tiers of Maslow's hierarchy of needs (some restrictions apply). It's that easy! Apply for the VISA Lemon Card today because, let's face it, your life sucks right now - and you shouldn't be able to forget that. Also, no sweets."



I threw the lemon card offer in the trash immediately. Wish I would have scanned a copy, because not surprisingly there are no images of it to be found on the net.

I am no longer a slave to that portion of the one percent known as bankers, the ones who soak us that work. I wonder, really I do, what would happen if everyone in this country, in the world even, just quit making payments on their unsecured debt? 

Think that would get the attention of the Wall Street elite?  

Occupy my shorts parasites.

I'm done... 


Views: 33


You need to be a member of Our Salon to add comments!

Join Our Salon


Just a Little Too

Posted by Doc Vega on June 24, 2019 at 1:39am 0 Comments

Water View II

Posted by koshersalaami on June 23, 2019 at 3:00pm 0 Comments

The Merlin Of BindleSnitch

Posted by Robert B. James on June 23, 2019 at 7:07am 1 Comment

Old Soft Shoe (POEM)

Posted by J.P. Hart on June 22, 2019 at 1:00pm 3 Comments

I saw one Mountain Lion

Posted by Robert B. James on June 22, 2019 at 8:00am 3 Comments

A Measure of Intelligence

Posted by Doc Vega on June 21, 2019 at 1:50pm 0 Comments

The Myth of Social Justice

Posted by Doc Vega on June 21, 2019 at 10:53am 5 Comments

A Last Hurrah --- Aloha Kakou

Posted by Maui Surfer on June 21, 2019 at 10:30am 12 Comments

© 2019   Created by lorianne.   Powered by

Badges  |  Report an Issue  |  Privacy Policy  |  Terms of Service