#minimum payment trap

[indembminsk]

Why am I Not Able to Get Out of Debt, Even When I Am Making Money?

Debt can feel like a never-ending cycle, particularly frustrating when you’re employed and earning an income. If you find yourself unable to break free from the shackles of debt despite having a steady paycheck, it’s important to closely examine the reasons why this might be happening. Living Beyond Your Means The most common reason people struggle with debt is that they live beyond their…

[lolothesilly]

:D

they should invent a job that doesn't affect your schedule or energy level that you don't have to go to if you don't want but you still get paid

[nonotnolan]

Swap Broker: Social Climbing

Seeing James in a suit, Clay suddenly felt a bit self-conscious about scheduling a meeting at his modest apartment. The car that James drove was probably worth more than this entire building. Still, that was part of why he was hiring James in the first place. Clay was trapped in the lowest income tiers of society, and upward momentum was unheard of. He didn't regret dropping out of high school to take care of his younger brother when their mother passed-- their father had never been in the picture-- but now that his brother had a full ride to college, it was time to take care of himself for once. If he wanted any sort of life outside of minimum wage retail work, he was going to have to take drastic action.

"Legally, I have read you a few disclaimers before we begin," James said, pulling out some papers from his briefcase. "You are purchasing my services as a swap broker. This does not guarantee that I will be able to match you with another customer, and some customers may request additional payment. My servicing fees must be paid up front and in full. The body real estate market is new, and may be subject to new regulations at any time. You cannot trade more than ten years plus or minus your original date of birth, and any attempts to defraud security regulations will result in legal action, up to and including life in jail. If either client is able to prove misleading or fraudulent claims about their new body within the first 30 days, the swap will be reversed. Customer dissatisfaction is not a valid reason to reverse the swap process, so care should be taken prior to confirming purchase. If you agree to these terms, your payment will be considered a legal signature."

Clay paused, staring at the wad of cash in his hands. "You, uhh… you do take cash, right? I didn't even think about trying to get a money order."

James simply smiled at him. "That will be fine, Mr. Clay. It's not standard, but for you I will make an exception. Truth be told, I'm already making a few exceptions for you, but I've been able to pull strings to have it classified as charity work. Besides, all of your of the mandated background interviews have come back with glowing recommendations, which is why I have no issues taking such a risk on you."

"And I appreciate that, don't get me wrong. All the same, I… I'm just worried that no one will want to take my life in exchange for theirs," Clay said, kicking the carpet with his boots. "But anything will be better than this, and … well, I'm trusting you, James. I'm trusting you to find something for me."

"I actually do have a very promising lead for you, if you're willing to take it," he said, adjusting his necktie. "It's a very unusual situation, which is why most of my clients have not accepted this body. But for you… honestly, this might work. My client is local businessman Richard Hargrove, but the body for trade or sale is the body of his son, Aiden Hargrove. It's… legal, technically, though I'm not convinced Aiden fully understood the paperwork he was signing."

Clay raised an eyebrow. "Let me guess… Richard expects great things from his son, but his son isn't matching those expectations?"

James nodded. "It's a tale as old as time, and it's a lot of emotional baggage to carry over into a new life. If you want to inherit the family money, you'll have to make certain that you keep Richard appeased. There's going to be a lot of family drama, while most people on the market for a new body are looking for a swap with no strings attached."

"No strings, you say," Clay said, absent-mindedly scratching his chest. "How often are people swapping bodies, anyway?"

"Honestly, we're starting to see a lot of designer body circles where people swap bodies every few months like clothes. People are trying to establish winter bodies, vacation bodies, bodies for formal events… it's a bit of a mess out there right now. But most people don't want to be locked into a new body forever, which… is what Mr. Hargrove is looking for. But since it sounds like that is what you're looking for as well... here's a photo of Aiden," he said, passing a headshot over to Clay.

Clay could feel his cock stirring to life in his jeans. Aiden was incredibly attractive. He also looked like an insufferable spoiled rich kid, but… well, that was probably true. "James, this man is gorgeous. There has to be some sort of catch, more than just the family drama angle you described."

"Well… yes. As a part of the swap agreement, Mr. Hargrove is requiring that the person taking his son's body signs a five year habitation agreement. It includes a stipend of $100,000 spread across monthly installments, but it states that you will only be able to contact your prior family through written, voice, or video correspondence. Nor will you be able to contact any of your prior friends ever again. For most people, that's a complete dealbreaker. For you, however…"

Clay couldn't help but laugh. "My younger brother is going to college several states away, so I already have limited contact. And the closest things I have to friends are people who are nice to me at work." He paused, taking off his cap and squeezing its brim as he thought it over. "I really don't have anything to lose," he said. It felt odd to say it aloud, but… he hadn't fully realized just how much he had been putting everyone else's needs over his own until it was pointed out like this. "I always knew it, I mean… it's why I hired you, I just… I never quite thought about it like that. James, I accept. Whatever you need me to sign, let's do this."

James smiled. "Excellent choice! I'll put in an offer this afternoon, and I'll be in touch with the next round of paperwork. It's not official yet, but given that Aiden's body has been on the market for over five weeks, I can't imagine that we're going to get any resistance."

------------------------------------------------------

"Alright, so that was four strokes, which puts me at… +8," said the new Aiden. "Not great, but at least I'm slowly improving. Ready for the next hole, Dad?" The first week or two had had its share of uncomfortable moments, but he was slowly easing into the expectations of his new life. Now, after a few months, life as Aiden Hargrove was becoming second nature.

Richard smiled at him. "I'm proud of you, you know."

"Agh, Dad…" Aiden said, feeling himself starting to blush.

"No, I mean that," he said. "It was hard enough having to disown my first son… I was so worried about who my new son was going to be. But you… you're hard working, you're dedicated, you're sincere… how could anyone not be grateful? I'm… I'm bad at knowing how to show people that I care, Aiden. Too much tough love, they tell me. And if I'm going to start training you to take over the family business, that will only get worse. Which, I will be training you, son, you've picked up on sales like it was second nature. So… when we leave here, and I'm back to being a dick… it's because I expect a lot from you, okay? I'm proud of you even when I'm not showing it." Richard leaned in for a hug, which Aiden returned with an awkward embrace.

"Also, son, I keep meaning to ask-- have you been getting your dick wet?"

Aiden felt his stomach drop out from under him. "Jesus, Dad! That's not… do we have to talk about that?"

"You're almost thirty," Richard said, folding his arms. "It's well past time for you to get married. I'm not going hold sins of the old Aiden against you, but people are already starting rumors. An eligible Hargrove, unmarried? It's unheard of. I don't even care who you marry, as long as they make at least $150,000 per year. Are you gay? I've seen the way your eye wanders in the country club's sauna. The old Aiden was straight as an arrow, but we can smooth that over easy enough."

"I… yes sir, I am a gay man," Aiden admitted, as he desperately prayed for the ground to open up and swallow him in. "I haven't, uhh… I haven't had sex in this body yet. I've been focused more on living as the new Aiden. Adding a relationship to things felt… complicated. Especially since the thought of a queer scandal had me afraid to… pursue things, as it were."

Richard waved a dismissive hand. "Well, start pursuing them. You're a Hargrove now. We don't have scandals, we just have bribe money. Your mother and I are going to be celebrating our 40th wedding anniversary next year, and I expect to you be engaged by then. I need everyone to see that you are a force to be reckoned with."

------------------------------------------------------

Aiden leaned against the bar of the country club, waiting for his date to arrive. It was easy to adjust to the trappings of his new life, but he hoped to never fully lose sight of his roots. The navy suit he was wearing tonight was a designer piece that cost about two months of his old life's salary, and he was about to spend over ten hours of minimum wage labor on a single dinner. The universe had managed to reward all of those years of thankless labor with the opportunity to live Aiden's life, and it wasn't something he ever wanted to take for granted.

Trying to date as a gay man looking for marriage was complicated enough. Trying to date men who fit his new father's limited criteria was proving to be almost impossible. Most of the men who checked off all of the necessary requirements were either straight or insufferable-- but usually both. All the same, Aiden had high hopes for his date with Hunter. Unlike his previous dates, Hunter came into his wealth by creating and then selling his business at the right time. Hopefully that lack of a privileged upbringing would make him a tolerable human being.

Dinner with Hunter proved to be everything that Aiden had hoped for, and more. They were able to hold actual conversation, shifting from topic to topic without his date trying to brag about prior accomplishments or disparaging Aiden's interests as puerile. It was taking all of his restraint not to mount Hunter right there, in the middle of the dining room.

"Would you like to join me on a brief walk?" Aiden asked, once their meals had been finished and billed to his family's tab. "You'll have to forgive me if I am being too forward, but I took the liberty of reserving one of the... private cabana rooms at the edge of the grounds." His eyebrows waggled as he emphasized the word private, and the flush on Hunter's cheeks confirmed that the innuendo had not been lost on his date. Aiden swelled with pride as he observed the outline of Hunter's erection against his blue slacks as the man stood up, the most sincere sort of compliment he could receive. His own manhood was straining against his silk boxer briefs, and he found himself hoping that Hunter was sneaking glances.

"I... do have a confession, before we get too serious," Hunter said, as they strolled across the greens. "This is not my real body. My swap broker arranged for a three month loaner, while my real body is...being acclimated to my new wealth, shall we say. I'm paying someone to lose weight at the gym, whiten my teeth, develop a suitable skin care regimen... that sort of thing. And once I do get my body back, there will a wardrobe and hairstyle adjustment period..." He started to tug nervously at his collar. "Just a temporary side effect of being new money. I hope you don't find that too scandalous."

Aiden gave him a warm smile. "Far from it, I assure you. Your newfound wealth and status is part of your charm. It means you don't have any of the odious habits of my peers." He wrapped a possessive arm around Hunter's waist and pulled him close, a trophy to be displayed. "Besides, that sounds like an incredibly smart usage of a swap brokerage contract. If things get serious, I'll have to tell you about my own family's dealings with swap brokers."

[momentsbeforemass]

Used

You know what really hurts? Being used.

Being treated like a thing. Instead of a person.

Especially when it’s someone you expect to treat you better than they would any random person. Like friends or family, or even a spouse.

It really cuts to the heart. And it’s hard to know how to respond.

Which is why today’s Gospel is so important. It’s the one where Jesus sends Peter to catch a fish. Telling him that he will find the money to pay the temple tax in the mouth of the fish.

Of all the miracles of Jesus, this one is the weirdest.

But – surprisingly – it also gives a roadmap for dealing with people who want to use you. People who want to treat you like a thing. Instead of a person.

We’ve seen stuff like this before in the Gospels. Someone is trying to set Jesus up. With a loaded question (“Does not your teacher pay the temple tax?”), that’s really a trap.

Jesus asks Peter about the trap. “From whom do the kings of the earth take tolls or census tax? From their subjects or from foreigners?” And how Peter responds, “from foreigners.”

What does that have to do with being treated like a thing and not a person?

In the context of the tax (which, by law, Jesus and Peter should not have to pay), it says that the temple authorities see them as unsophisticated tourists they can take advantage of. With their Galilean accents and manners.

To the temple authorities, they are outsiders to be abused. They are things. Not people.

So how does this give you and me a roadmap for dealing with being treated like a thing and not a person?

It starts with Jesus’ question to Peter. The point is to make sure that Peter knows what they’re doing to him. To not pretend it is anything but abuse. To call it what it is.

That’s step one. Don’t ignore what they’re doing. Don’t pretend it’s something else. Be honest with yourself. Call it what it is.

Step two? Refuse to play the game. If possible, do not engage. If that’s not possible, then do the minimum needed to be done with them.

Which is the point of Jesus’ weirdest miracle. Jesus is providing Peter with the help he needs – so that Peter can do the minimum needed to be done with the temple authorities.

Here, the minimum needed is the payment of the tax.

Why are they paying? Jesus makes it clear to Peter that this is abuse. So why not stand up for their rights? Why not fight the abuse?

Remember, this is Peter. Peter is impulsive and reckless. He’s always up for a good fight.

Jesus knows Peter. Better than Peter knows Peter.

And Jesus wants Peter to know that not every enemy needs to be fought. Sometimes the best way to handle an enemy isn’t to fight them. But to remove yourself from the problem they’re trying to create.

Which exactly what Jesus does. By providing Peter with the ability to pay the temple tax. From an unexpected source.

Even though it looks like a little bit of giving in. It’s really just the bare minimum needed to be done with them.

Once the tax is paid, the temple authorities have no more power over them. Jesus and Peter can ignore them with impunity. Which they do.

The lesson for you and me? Refuse to play the game with people who want to abuse you. Trust God to deal with them. And follow God’s lead.

Know that if you’re following Him, God will provide you what you need to be done with them.

But be ready to accept help from an unexpected source.

Today’s Readings

[tagrasso-art]

Demon Summoning Adopts

30€ each, details on how it works below the cut. If you are interested, dm me!

So you want to summon a demon, for one reason or another. Well, it's your lucky day, because I already did all the dirty work for you. All you still need to do is three things:

Pick a circle from the ones I have prepared. Go with your gut on that one, pick one that feels right. Keep in mind, each circle can only be used once, I'm not putting two demons into one circle anymore because arranging demon pit fights is illegal nowadays.

Present your offering. No demon worth the effort of drawing a circle will grace you with its presence without a proper welcoming gift. It could be anything, from something valuable or sentimental to something abstract. Live sacrifices and promises of first-born are classic ones but anything will do, really. Whatever you give, it will lure in a demon that desires what you offer.

Declare your desire. Surely you will have a reason for why you are considering this deal in the first place. Be it wealth, fame, luck or anything else, declare what you are hoping to gain from this demon. Whatever you want, it will call forth a demon that offers what you desire.

Simple, right? Circle, offering, desire. Keep in mind, those are your only ways of influencing what sort of demon answers your call. Anything else is up to the whims of chance. As for the circles, here are your options:

A circle drawn in salt. Three foci and another circle for you. A grounded summoning. Fog rises from within.

A circle drawn in blood. A chipped stone bowl and a stained bone knife. A crude summoning. Drums echo through the caves.

A circle drawn in chalk. Candles and a darkened pearl. A precise summoning. Light is trapped within the lines. [Summoned]

------------------------------------------------------------------------------

TOS: I retain rights to the art itself, though the demon and its design will belong to you. I will post heavily watermarked and lower resolution versions on my socials and send you alone the full res and unmarked (but still signed) version. Based on my current schedule, I don't expect this to take longer than a week or two. If something gets in the way I will let you know.

Payment is up-front via paypal, 30€ minimum though you can pay more if you want. If you do, I will make the design more complex accordingly! Upon request I can also easily make the dimensions match your phone screen if you let me know its resolution, at no extra cost

Designs are not unlikely to dip into the territories of body horror or gore. If there are specific motifs that you need me to exclude (for example anything triggering trypophobia) please let me know in advance! I will not edit the art once its done and sent.

Do not use my art for commercial or AI purposes.

[smegmafactory4ever]

credit card tip from my mom who still uses a physical checkbook: she deducts the credit card purchase directly from her checking when she makes the purchase to be sure she can always pay the balance at the end of the month and not have to pay interest. i personally don't do that but i do make sure not to spend more than I can pay off in a month.

more than anything, whatever you do, pay more than the minimum payment on it, even if you can't clear the whole balance--only paying the minimum is the fastest way to a debt trap. similarly, it's worth making enough purchases on your card every month to total more than the minimum payment or you're also just giving them free money

I'm starting to get a hang of it but dear fucking God is this complicated... I should just start selling drugs or stealing

[thehorrortree]

Deadline: June 30, 2024 Payment: $15 Theme: Speculative fiction, primarily horror, science fiction, and fantasy. Note: Reprints welcome Formatting Guidelines This is proving to be a recurring problem, so we're putting it up front. Please, for all our sakes, read this next part carefully. All submissions should be sent by e-mail (no letters or telephone calls please) to submissions@allegoryezine.com. Below are some formatting rules to help us process your submission more quickly. EMAIL AND COVER LETTERS Email is accepted in both text and HTML formats. When submitting, please put this in the subject line: Submission: (Title) - (First and Last name) Include the following in the body of the email and in the attached submission: Your name Name to use on the story (byline), if different Your preferred email address Your mailing address The story's title The story's word count You may also include a cover letter in the body of the email. We get a lot of strange stuff in cover letters, so if you're unsure of what goes in them (and especially what doesn't) please refer to these cover letter tips: How to write a cover letter | What not to put in a cover letter by Jed Hartman SUBMISSION FORMATTING We ONLY accept submissions as attachments! All stories submitted as an attachment must follow standard manuscript formatting. We will no longer read any story not properly formatted. (And we much prefer Courier New to Times New Roman) For explanations and tips on what SMF is and how to do it with word processing programs, please see this article. Please send your submission as an attachment in Microsoft Word (.doc, .docx) or Rich Test Format (.rtf) only. Other formats, such as Works, WordPerfect, Open Office, etc., have proven difficult to open. Please note that we no longer accept "inline" submssions; that is, submissions with the stories pasted directly into the body of the email. FICTION GUIDELINES We're looking for good, solid fiction. We specialize in the Science Fiction, Fantasy and Horror genres. We will consider other genres, such as humor or general interest, provided that the work possesses an original, "quirky" slant. Here are some basic do's and don'ts. DO give us strong characters and good plotting. DO put clever, but logical twists on the end of your tales. DO experiment with new ideas and unusual writing styles, but without falling into traps of contrivance and cliché. DON'T submit any stories based on movies, television or any printed media not your own. DON'T submit reprints without including the name of the publication in which the work first appeared, along with the date of publication. DON'T send more than one story in the same submission. There is no minimum or maximum length for fiction. But bear in mind that short-shorts (less than 500 words) and flash fiction (less than 100 words) are usually hard sells for us, as are stories longer than 5000 words. We'll consider them, but they will have to be exceptional. We pay a flat rate of $15 (U.S. dollars) for each story. Payment is made upon publication, either by PayPal or personal check, based on the author's wishes. NON-FICTION GUIDELINES We publish one or two articles an issue. The subject matter MUST involve the art or business of writing. Research, editing, characterization, narrative style, query letters, cover letters, dealing with editors, agents or publishers - virtually any topic that concerns writing is fair game. The maximum length for non-fiction is 2000 words. We pay a $15 (U.S. dollars) flat rate. Payment is made upon publication, either by PayPal or personal check, based on the author's wishes. GENERAL STUFF We publish biannually, on the first of May and November. The order in which stories and articles appear on the site is solely arbitrary and should not be construed in any other way. All works that are accepted for publication remain on the site for the full six months. With the publication of the subsequent issue, all rights to the works previously displayed revert to the author.

We buy First World Rights and World Reprint Rights. Bylines are most certainly given. Most submissions are reviewed within 6 weeks. If the story shows merit, we will respond with a "maybe" letter, explaining that the submission is in the running for a spot in the next issue. At the end of the submission cycle, which is always two months before the next issue comes out, all "maybe" submission are re-reviewed, and the top eight selected for publication. At that time, all accepted authors receive contracts to sign. Since these contracts and, later, the payment checks, go out by snail mail, it is VERY important that all submissions include a snail mail address. We don't "buy ahead". By that, we mean that ALLEGORY purchases only the stories it needs for the current issue, rather than stocking up for the next and the next. This means that every author who received an acceptance from us will see their work on this site with the next new issue, provided he or she reads, signs, and returns to us an unchanged contract. Simultaneous submissions are "OK", provided that you let us know at the time of submission that other editors are reviewing this work. That's about it. Good luck. Via: Allegory Magazine.

[enbyhyena]

i just got an email from the social security administration.

allow me to stare a screenshot from it, just to highlight how fucking predatory and cutthroat the SSI program is capable of being.

most notably from the email, and what i'll be focusing on today: the "food" bulleted point. they, until last month, counted food gifts (from food banks, neighbors, friends, other peers) as "income", and if reported, would gut your social security payment proportionally to the value of the food received. also note that them removing this stipulation does not include SNAP/EBT payments—therefore, if you receive enough food stamps, they will still cut down on how much SSI you receive.

ssi, which is only $943 per month. which, when broken down to a standard 40hr work week, works out to $5.89 an hour. in a world where american minimum wage is $7.25 and the average national rent is $2,000 a month. you can't even *get* $2,000 a month on ssi or they immediately slash you from the program. which forces disabled people to sacrifice their independence, often resulting in them becoming trapped in financially abusive situations. and the social security administration completely ignores other financial drains; all it cares about is rent. when they perform your annual review all they ask about is your cost of rent. they don't care about transportion costs, medical bills, etc. they don't factor that into your living expenses at all. all of this, and they had the audacity to tax FOOD.

so yeah. i've gone on similar rants before, and i and all of my friends know how fucking awful the social security program is. but even after being on SSI for 6 years, it still finds new ways to shock me. food, man. shit you need to eat literally in order to survive. not even money FOR food. just the food itself, and the act of receiving it. this never should've been allowed to happen in the first place, and the fact they're only rolling it back in 2024—52 years after the program's creation—is INSANE.

[mogai-sunflowers]

okay in all seriousness though, I absolutely believe that shoplifting from big corporations is 100000% ethical. not just in a “haha spite big capitalism be gay do crime uwu” way but in a “the fact that the state can withhold things like food, water, and clothing from people and they pay these corporations to do just that, is despicable and no human right should ever be monetized by any ruling body” kinda way. im fuckin 18, im no expert in anti-capitalism but I know for sure I wouldn’t lose any sleep from taking food for free from a store that pays its employees minimum wage and then expects us to pay more for fruit than they pay their employees in a shift. Food and clothes and shelter and healthcare keep me alive, so the fact that we have to pay for them is the most blatant violation of human rights and yet the whole damn world is trapped in the capitalist lie that the places who would rather us starve than get their food for free, are actually worth our payment. Just saying.

[sybaritick]

ok u GOTTA share more abt the college debt au

YEA BABY! this one is not very far along mostly just outline and random thoughts. but ill tell you the CONCEPTS behind it the beautiful concepts. this is an ethically problematic one which is my favorite kind.

i can fetishize anything. i can fetishize this [pointing at the very broken state of how to pay for higher education in the US]

so i will fully admit this is inspired by an original i wrote a while back featuring someone fresh out of college being pressured into accepting terrifying cybernetic brain surgery as a prerequisite for working at some horrible neurotech company (with the fun bonus that in-universe apparently like 30% of people have already had said surgery. become a better citizen it's good for you! it'll make you happier. and more productive.) because this job is the best shot she has at ever paying back a truly insurmountable mountain of debt. she doesn't HAVE to do it. but if she doesn't do it, she'll be working in worse conditions for longer and is it worth it? but i thought. well. what if it was bloodweave. astarion being so horribly trapped (under Cazador) can very much translate into a sort of financial trap-- he owes like $70k he has no idea how to repay and he's barely making the minimum payments and the balance isn't going down. meets overworked grad student Gale who is 1) blissfully ignorant of the realities of astarion's situation. has money. and 2) not getting an A in ethics class to put it lightly. gale needs a test subject for some magical experimentation. it's for his thesis. nothing painful or humiliating! but a very, very heavy power imbalance-- gale's essentially just saying "can i pay to use you as a willing body to cast Hold Person on while I take a bunch of measurements" and such. they do eventually fuck. astarion can perhaps take out some of those frustrations on him. :3

[thesims3help]

Sims 3 - Gameplay enhancing mods: Money/Finances, Shopping, Transportation.

A category-based mod post. Mods and links previously featured in our Masterlist. All credits to their rightful owners.

Categories include: money, salary, minimum wage, tax, bills, banking, investing, stock market, benefits & services, transportation related mods.

Bills, tax, charities:

Tax Collector - Allows manual tax collecting in-game.

Higher bills (or no bills) and less CAS money

More Money for CAS Families (Four Flavors)

Harder Bills (Higher Payments) & No Fairy Booby Trap Mailbox: 1.50 - 1.67 by Nona Mena (simlogical.com)

Minimum Wage/More Realistic Earnings, Higher Tuition, Higher Boarding School Costs, Higher Grant Money

ClaudiaSharon's Simblr: Donate to Charity for All (tumblr.com)

ClaudiaSharon's Simblr: Harder Bills and Higher Donation Costs mods (tumblr.com)

Banking, stock market:

Non-Core Global Online Banking Mod

Social Clubs Mod (+ banking) - Grow Memberships, Push Activities, Make Bank Accounts and More!

Investment Mod (Update 9/3/23) - MultiTab Compatible

Lost&Found: Stock Market

Things cost money:

Workout Costs Money

Open Cinema

Taxi Charge Mod

Subway Charge Mod

Futuristic Transportation Charge

No Fridge Shopping

No Free Quick Meals

Pay to give bottle and change diaper

Adoption Isn't Free

Simstopics Adoption Costs $$$$

Shop for clothes

More Expensive Medical Advice with flavours - 1.67

Bouncers want Bigger Bribes 1.67

ClaudiaSharon's Simblr: Cheaper Scraps and more options, a mod or two (tumblr.com)

Consigner:

nraas Consigner

Department Store Register

Benefits & Services:

Government Benefits & Services Mod

Transportation:

Realistically Slower Cars, Taxis, and Bikes

No Limos - 1.63 - 1.67 by Nona Mena (simlogical.com)

No Car Relationships

nraas - Traffic

Default Taxis

Vehicle Default Replacement

Old Sailor Taxi - Water Taxi Default Replacement

[faetaleplots]

A Meeting to Remember. Or Not.

It's taken me way too long to post this, but-

“They first met when Alex hired Morgan to scare some potential investors away from some property assuming that Morgan would like, rough them up in an alley and not dress up like a ghost and pretend like the property is haunted, which Morgan did. It was shockingly more effective than beating people up in an alley.” -Lighthouseraiders

this fic is 4k

TW: swearing

Technically Alex could have just snapped the investors out of existence or dealt with them some other way on their own, they were powerful enough that it would probably take them under a minute to do so. Counter point, if they went around attacking civilians, supposedly unprovoked it could ruin the entire ‘brooding and mysterious and don’t approach the rabid dog even though it just looks lonely™’ vibe they had going, which would kinda suck. So instead they took the classic ‘too powerful to really care, get a henchman to take care of it for them™’  way out. They opened a search tab on their phone, typed in “villain for hire” and watched pages of results show up. They scrolled to the very bottom of the first one without even looking at all the hero propaganda and news articles about successful or failed attempts on heroes’ lives, and skipped the first twelve pages that came up. Thirteen had always been a lucky number for Alex. A link caught their eye and they scrolled, though Alex couldn’t pinpoint why it did. Still, they clicked it, curious enough to check it out. The link led Alex to a blog, interestingly enough, though there were very few posts on it. At the top in large font it advertised: 

E-tier villain for hire

No questions asked

Payment negotiable

Will work long term

Will take care of people

Will not act as bait for heroes

Will set traps for enemies

    Will work undercover

Underneath that was an email and a phone number, which Alex assumed were for contacting the villain in question. They browsed the site for a few more minutes (there really wasn’t much else on it) before shrugging to themself and clicking the email. They liked the part about “taking care” of people, not to mention that few low tier villains ever set boundaries because they were afraid it would make higher tier villains dislike them and either not hire them or kill them. So Alex would send this person an email and if they didn’t like the E-tier villain’s work then they could just kill them. Simple as that. Satisfied with their solution, Alex began composing an email.

Morgan hated his job. He hated working in customer service and he hated being forced to put up with people’s shit everyday. And for what? Just so he could earn minimum wage so he could live in a shitty, literally illegal apartment, and use the little money that was left after rent to feed himself. Although most of the time he didn’t even do that. It was an awful way for anyone to live, but it was downright shameful for someone who called themself a villain. 

And yet it was still somehow better than being his brother’s sidekick. Being a sidekick was horrible. As a sidekick to a hero, he wasn’t technically working for the FA, legally making him an independent contractor, which meant that they were legally allowed to pay him less than minimum wage, charge him to rent the costumes he wore from the FA and he would be charged extra if the costume got damaged. It meant he had no insurance, and pretty much couldn’t leave. It was an entirely corrupt system that financially ruined any sidekick as long as they didn’t die first. And then the FA had the audacity to call themselves the “good guys”. 

Morgan groaned into his couch when he heard a notification from across the room. His phone must still be in his bag, which he’d dropped at the door the second he got into his apartment, which sucked for him because he didn’t want to get up and face the cold floor. On the other hand, that was a notification from his email, and no one emailed him, so…

Morgan held his blanket tighter and braced himself for the cold that came with the floor (or really just anywhere) of his apartment in any season other than summer. Morgan hopped his way over to his bag, snatched his phone, and booked it back to the couch faster than he’d ever run from the police. Once he had returned to the safety of the disintegrating couch, hidden beneath his one blanket, Morgan unlocked his phone and opened his email, praying that the notification hadn’t been for spam.

He almost deleted the email, seeing that the sender was unknown, but he hesitated. It had been sent to the email that he’d put on that website he set up a while ago, so maybe…

Morgan bit his lip as he scanned the email, becoming increasingly relieved that he hadn’t deleted it. It was from some higher tier villain who needed to get some investors off their property, a simple enough job. Morgan didn’t know who the villain was, but he supposed that if they were hiring outside people instead of doing it themselves or using their henchmen they wanted the task to be unconnected to them. At this point Morgan just cared if the pay was legitimate. And when he saw the payment proposed by them he had to make sure his eyes were working. That was enough to support him for the next two years, more than enough time to actually plan a heist like he wanted to— enough to help him actually kick off his villain career. He’d been a villain for about a year and a half already, but he hadn’t really gotten the chance to do anything. And the job honestly sounded way too easy for that much, but that meant that Morgan was willing to take the risk that it might be a scam. He quickly typed out a response and asked for more details.

This was going to be fun.

The agreed on date had been exactly a week after Morgan received the email and he had been filled with excitement all week. This was pretty much his first heist since running away from his family, and it almost made him forget how much he hated his life.

The day of the job, Morgan called into work, saying he was sick and wouldn’t be able to make it in, embellishing his performance with a perfected ‘sick voice’ and perfectly timed coughs. The moment he got off the call, Morgan left and locked his apartment and lugged his bags downstairs. Living on the top floor was awful, but it meant he didn’t have a bunch of people walking by his door all the time. Plus it was the only apartment available when he moved in and Morgan really didn’t want to go through the hassle of dragging his couch up or down stairs again.

He finally managed to make it to the closest bus station, both of his bags intact, though his back was less so. The bags were almost overflowing with gear and Morgan honestly dreaded the end of the day when he would have to lug everything back home again.

The bus arrived five minutes late, or at exactly the time Morgan had expected it to, depending on who you asked. The commute to the property wasn’t a long one, but it took Morgan outside of the area he was used to. Not that Morgan was surprised. He’d done his research, he knew where he was going. It didn’t change the fact that he was out of his comfort zone, but he knew what he was doing.

He was the only person to get off at the stop and all the other passengers gave him odd looks because of it. He supposed that was normal– he really didn’t look like he belonged around here. The neighborhood looked like one of those streets that actors would walk around dressed like Dickens characters during December where tourists could pay for a carriage ride or overpriced hot chocolate whilst people in clothing from the 1940s sang outdated and overrated Christmas carols. Meanwhile Morgan, wearing a pair of jeans he hadn’t replaced for two years and a shirt that he often used to mop up spilled coffee with a bulging and worn out backpack slung on each shoulder, looked like he’d been homeless for a while. It didn’t help that his hair was just the wrong side of shaggy and far too straight to look good by any means. But Morgan didn’t care what the stuck-up, judgy people on the bus thought of him– he had better things to think about.

It didn’t take Morgan long to find the property he would be protecting, and it took even less time to break into it. Checking his phone, he saw that he had about forty minutes until the investors were set to show up, meaning he had about twenty five minutes, counting on the possibility that they might be at most ten minutes early, and quickly went to work, setting up the house exactly how he’d need it to be.

Morgan had not counted on the blueprints he’d found online being for a different house, but they were similar enough and he was good at improvising. Unfortunately that meant he finished ten minutes after he’d planned on and had only just finished setting up the kitchen when he heard the front door open. Cursing under his breath, Morgan ran as quickly as he could to get into position, stepping on quite a few creaky floor boards, but sure that no footsteps were heard. It was a skill he’d picked up quite early on in his years living in his parent’s house.

By the time all three of the investors were inside the house Morgan was in position, a bit winded, though that was mainly due to the adrenaline coursing through him. He’d picked the perfect vantage point to see almost the entire first floor from where he was, and what he saw made him smirk. The investor that was furthest into the house (probably the first one to enter) was looking around a bit nervously. The second was rolling his eyes and the third seemed to be straining to hear something– probably footsteps. Who knew that being caught off guard would benefit Morgan’s plan?

“It’s an old house, George,” The second man was saying to the first, “Old houses creak. And old houses exist. But do you know what doesn’t exist? Ghosts.” He scoffed and pushed past the other man and into the kitchen. “We’re here for the property not it's history.” Morgan grimaced a bit. If they didn’t know anything about the history of this place that might take  his plan down a notch. Pity, it had been really fun to do all the research and to figure out how to incorporate it all into his plan.

“A– There was a woman who died here in the 1930s, though…” The third man spoke up. Good, at least someone else did their research. “She was this dancer– Margret Can?” Her name was Margret Cain, but whatever. “She, um, I think she went missing and ended up being found here in the 70s.” 

The man that had been called George turned to the historian, still looking around like the wall paper might come alive and eat him. “Found? What do you mean ‘found,’ Mike?” Morgan really should have been filming this all– maybe he should write a horror movie script about it at some point.

“Her body. It was found bricked up in the chimney. Since then this place hasn’t had anyone live in it for much longer than a few months.” Morgan could see George swallow and finally look away from the house to make eye contact with Mike. Perfect. Their pre-existing fear would benefit him greatly.

The tension was broken by the other man yelling at them from the kitchen. “Jesus Christ– this place will need a lot of work but boy will people pay big bucks for it when we fix it up. What are you two doing out there, making flower crowns? Get in here.” It seemed like he was in charge, or at least like he thought he was. The other two scrambled into the kitchen, taking in the cobwebs and dust covering all the counters. The kitchen sink was dripping, set up by one of Morgan’s cheap machines that he had made in the middle of the night, being kept up by coffee, energy drinks, and pure determination. He really hoped it didn’t explode. The idea was that it would drip exactly twelve times every half a second, wait three seconds, then repeat. The liquid that was dripping was a concoction Morgan had made of some very watery goo and the tiniest bit of red dye, so that you wouldn’t even notice the color as it dripped unless you really looked. But the more drips into the sink, the redder it would get. And Morgan had made certain that the kitchen sink’s drain was clogged. 

Mike noticed the odd dripping pattern first, cautiously inching over to the sink to watch the drips. Morgan can see a crease in the man’s brow as he sees the tint of color. “Keith? George? This water look a bit off to you?”

“Probably just from rust.” Said the man who must be Keith without turning to look. “Stop making up excuses and let’s move on.” George looked back and forth between Keith and the sink before seeming to decide that just moving on would be better for his sanity and leaving Mike alone with the sink and Morgan. Unlike the other two, Mike didn’t seem to be so quick to brush off the sink, creeping close enough to peek into the basin. Morgan really should have been recording this because he was pretty sure Mike had just broken the world record for highest pitch hit by human vocal chords. In the sink, covered in the reddish not-water, was a severed hand. Morgan had gotten it from an after Halloween sale a few years back and had taken some… artistic liberties to make it look more realistic. Honestly he was just glad it was finally getting put to good use– it had been sitting in his medicine cabinet for a while. 

Morgan was quite a talented artist when he was engaged in a project, and the hand had apparently been the tipping point for Mike. Pity, really, Morgan frowned as he watched the investor sprint out of the room fast enough that Morgan almost thought he had super speed. The E-Tier villain had been hoping they would last longer, but he supposed the other two would have to do.

Said pair of investors had jumped at the scream and watched as their coworker all but vanished back onto the street. A full five seconds of no sound other than the drip drip drip coming from Morgan’s invention.

“Weak.” Kieth growled. Morgan smirked, hearing the only partially hidden fear in his voice. “C’mon. Let’s go.” He turned on his heel, leading the way into the dining room, completely unaware of the feast that awaited them there.

When Alex hired someone to get rid of their investor issue, they had been thinking that said person would beat the investor would be beating the problems up in some alley somewhere. That’s what hired villains normally did. Well this one was apparently NOT normal. Alex had shown up at the house expecting to hand off the cash and never speak to the other villain again. Instead they found two of the three investors still in their house, climbing the stairs to the attic and looking quite terrified. Alex was already invisible from the fight they’d come from and decided they might as well stay that way while looking for the E-tier villain who apparently had no idea how to do their job. However, Alex was unable to find the villain just by simply looking around. They truly had no idea what the other looked like and they obviously weren’t in sight. Fine. Alex would just follow the investors and if the two men walked out of the house Alex would simply kill all three of them.

Of the two men, the one leading the was whipping his head around at every perceived sound, eyes wild, while the other man clung to his arm, apparently whispering something to himself. Alex slightly adjusted their senses, frowning when they heard, “Not real, not real, not real, not real-” coming from the mouth of the whispering man. 

“Would you shut up?” Alex winced as the other man whisper-yelled at his companion, shaking his arm free and reaching the door at the top of the stairs. “If it weren’t for you we’d be out of here already!” He turned the doorknob and looked into the abyss-like darkness for a moment before taking a breath and stepping inside. “Light switch should be here somewhere…” He muttered to himself. Alex could imagine the man feeling the walls for a lightswitch but couldn’t see him. “Aha!” The sound of a switch being flicked and a slightly concerning buzz of a light bulb broke through the darkness. “What are you doing on the steps you coward?” The leader scoffed at the other man. “Get in here.” The man reluctantly stepped through the doorway. The first man grabbed him by the collar of his shirt and hauled him farther into the room. Alex moved to follow the two of them but instead ended up walking into a wall of wood as the door slammed shut. Frowning, Alex teleported themself into the Attic instead, and what they saw… confused them to say the least, one might have said that it freaked Alex out. That was if one could see Alex whilst they were invisible and had a death wish.

In the time it had taken them to teleport into the room, the overhead lightbulb had been shattered, smoke or fog or something had covered the entire floor, a red light was coming from somewhere, and there was a third… being that was standing in the center of the room. It was draped in old grays and whites and lace and the slightest hint of greens and they melded perfectly into the fog as if it was part of them. The being took a gliding step towards the two investors, both of whom were trembling and clinging to each other tightly. Alex felt intimidated, and they weren’t even the one being advanced upon.

“You will leave. This is my place and you have no right.” Oh wow. That voice definitely fit. It felt like the walls agreed with the being. Agreed that whoever they were, they had full authority. Alex was actually considering giving the deed up to them. “You will never come back and you will never speak of this. Heed me for I have power not just over this house but now over you.” The two men were nodding frantically, scratching at the door like dogs in an attempt to get out to escape to stay alive. “Leave.” The being said with a finality and the door swung open with ease, hitting both men, not that they stopped to nurse their new wounds. No, they were far too busy getting the hell out of there and as far away as they could. Alex stood stock still, forgetting that they were invisible and waiting for the being to notice them and turn its rage on them. Instead the creature started laughing. “O-oh my god! Their faces!” The voice had changed completely, breaking the spell. The being trotted through the fog to turn something off (Alex later realized it was a fog machine) and began what seemed to be clean up, still laughing. Alex shook themself, realizing that this was their chance.

Whilst the other’s back was turned, Alex made themself visible once more, leaning up against a wall to make themself look cool. “Oh yes, their faces really were a sight. Suppose that makes it even more of a shame no pictures were taken.” Alex watched bemused as the other–who just a minute ago had been the most terrifying thing Alex had ever seen–jumped out of their skin. The being grabbed the closest thing to them and brandished their newfound weapon at Alex. Unfortunately, said weapon happened to be a can of hairspray that sounded empty. Alex snorted at the attempt and pushed their attacker’s hands down. “Relax, I’m not here to hurt you. Are you the E-Tier villain?” Alex was pretty sure they were, but it didn’t hurt to check.

“Um, yeah– who the fuck are you?” Alex decided that the other villain was not going to clock them with the empty can and removed their hands.

“I’m here to pay you.” They reached into the inside pocket of their coat and pulled out the cash they had promised in their email. “And my name is Alex.” They slipped the bills into one of the other villain’s hands and kissed their knuckles, winking up at them as they did.

The other villain looked thoroughly confused. “Um, okay?” Alex raised an eyebrow at them, part of them curious as to why this low tier villain was not begging for their mercy. That was normally what happened when Alex revealed themself to people.

“You know, typically when a person introduces themself it is polite to respond with an introduction of one’s own.” They prompted.

“Bold of you to assume I would be polite.” The other person had sass and apparently had no idea who Alex was. They were turning out to be quite entertaining.

Alex smirked, looking at the wall beside them, pretending to think. “Perhaps. Then again, I did just pay you.” They watched the other size them up before backing away slightly.

“Morgan. He/him.” He finally answered, glaring at Alex. 

“Well, Morgan,” Alex began, leaning back against the wall, “What you did up here was impressive and I think I missed most of it.”

Morgan turned away but Alex could hear in the tone of his voice that he was pleased with the compliment and proud of himself. “This was probably the easiest part.” He shrugged like it wasn’t a big thing.

“Easy?” Alex asked incredulously. “I don’t understand how you did a single part of that.” They would have assumed that Morgan had the power of creating illusions, except that would make him C-Tier at least.

Morgan was taking off the outfit that looked hand made, pulling it over his head, so his response came out a bit muffled. “Really it was easy enough. I just had to make a lightbulb that I could easily shatter, then time the breaking of it perfectly so that by the time the back up lights came on I would be directly in front of them.” Morgan shrugged again. “And the door was just strong magnets. All I had to do was temporarily create an electromagnetic field to demagnetize them long enough for them to get in and out. Don’t worry- I can take them out of the door so you don’t have to worry about that.”

Alex understood nothing that Morgan had just said but boy did they want him to keep talking. “Um, you said you did other stuff around the place? What did you do?” The spark that flared up in the E-Tier’s eyes was worth not killing the investors– Alex almost forgot that they had even existed in the first place.

Alex trailed after Morgan around the house as he gathered all his stuff into two overflowing backpacks, trying their best to follow Morgan’s rambling, though to be honest they were never all that good at science or tech, which seemed to be Morgan’s area of expertise. All the same, they listened intently, waiting for Morgan to breathe so Alex could ask for his number. For work purposes, of course. Unfortunately, the only time Morgan stopped talking was to take a call, after which he spat out a quick goodbye and rushed out the door, taking all of his stuff with him and leaving Alex behind with no explanation or phone number.

When Alex got back to their lair they decided to see if they could find more information on the other villain, but google gave them nothing and now they couldn’t even find the blog that had been how they found Morgan in the first place they groaned and shut their computer a bit more forcefully than intended, snapping in fully in half. Damnit. Alex had gotten this one, what, two days ago? And they’d actually liked the stickers they’d put on it this time. 

Despite their intent of finding Morgan again, the E-Tier slipped to the back of Alex’s mind and they quickly got caught up in other things. But they didn’t forget that day– the first day they met Morgan.

[kristenlikesvore]

I've always had a hard time deciding on if I want to accept financial compensation for my content in the vore community. On the one hand, I don't want to lock my content behind a pay wall especially if it will be locked anyway. I also have never loved the idea of doing custom content in exchange for money. I don't want people to think I'm in any financial troubles. But other people in the community make money off their content and I've interacted with enough people in the vore community to know that my content is of value to people.

So I don't really know what to do about it. I've thought about doing like cashapp or something like that and people could tip me. Tumblr has a tipping system built in although their payment partner doesn't allow adult content so even though I have it set so people can tip me, I don't know if they can or if I would receive the money.

I've thought that I could always accept online gift cards to Amazon or Reverb. It would be nice if Reverb had a smaller minimum than $25 because I feel like asking people to give smaller amounts might get better results.

I guess I also am concerned that if people tip me, they might expect something in return rather than just showing appreciation for my content that I already have available.

I don't really know. I don't even know if people bother reading stuff like this. Again, I'm not hurting for money but it doesn't hurt to have extra to spend on things that aren't necessary.

It feels like it's a microcosm of my whole presence in the vore/belly community. I don't really know if I want to make content more often and I don't really know how many people my content is reaching. I can see how many followers I have but I don't get anywhere near that many notes on posts. I figure that if I put more tags I might reach more people but then again, I don't really feel like I care about reaching more people.

Sometimes I feel like I want to do more frequent uploads and buy new clothing for pictures and maybe try different content since I feel like I'm mostly posting pictures taken at one particular angle. But I really do like that angle. So I don't know.

I would like to find more girls that are into vore. Whether it's to chat with or work on photomanipulations with or just to follow their content. I know there are tons of lovely girls with lovely bellies but I'm mostly interested in girls that are actually interested in vore.

I'm a musician and I'd imagine some of my long time watchers are aware of that. I'd like to keep that part of my life seperate from this part but I've wondered if there would be any interest if I wrote vore songs. I could do EDM or trap or indie rock or whatever. Or if I could find girls in the vore community that sing and I could write songs for them.

I might be looking in to something in the near feature that would benefit me in terms of vore content. I don't want to go into too much details but I think it would make me a lot more comfortable with and a lot less self conscious about center things.

At some point I might want to get in better shape as I get older. That probably wouldn't be for a while and I don't know how it would affect content creation.

I really am at a point in life in general where I really don't know what I'm doing about anything but I'm optimistic for the future.

This ended up being a lot longer than I intended but thanks for reading if you got this far. Send me an ask if you want to know anything or just send encouragement or make suggestions.

[illumtori]

Unlocking Financial Freedom: A Guide to Credit Card Basics

In today’s world, where convenience is valued, credit cards have become an indispensable financial tool for millions of people. These tiny plastic cards allow us to shop online, dine at our favorite restaurants, and book dream vacations with just a swipe or a tap. However, this incredible convenience comes with a responsibility that, if neglected, can lead to debt traps.

In this article we will discuss fundamental concepts of credit cards, demystify the industry jargon, and, most importantly, share insights on how to use credit cards responsibly to unlock financial freedom and security. We’ll also dive into the importance of responsible credit card use, including tips on managing your balances, avoiding fees, and preserving your credit score.

At its core, a credit card is more than just a convenient payment tool; it is also a gateway to build and manage your credit score, access rewards and perks, and ultimately achieve your financial goals. With the right knowledge and a commitment to responsible financial practices, you can harness the power of credit cards and use them to your advantage.

Whether you are contemplating your first credit card or aiming to enhance your financial literacy, join us on this journey through the world of credit cards. Let’s equip you with the knowledge and tools you need to make credit cards work for you, rather than against you, as you embark on your path toward financial success and security.

Understand Credit Card Terms: Key Terms Demystified

Before we dive deeper into the world of credit cards, let’s start by demystifying some of the key terms you will frequently encounter. It’s essential to have a grasp of these terms as they form the foundation of your credit card knowledge.

Credit Limit: This is the maximum amount of money your credit card issuer allows you to borrow. Spending above the limit can result in interest and fees.

Billing Cycle: A fixed period, typically a month, where your credit card transactions are tracked and compiled into a monthly statement.

Minimum Payment: This is the smallest amount you must pay by a specified due date to keep your credit card account in good standing. It is typically calculated as a percentage of your outstanding balance. Paying only the minimum payment can lead to interest and extend your debt.

Interest Rate (APR): The Annual Percentage Rate (APR) represents the actual cost of borrowing on your credit card. It’s expressed as a percentage and a lower APR reduces the cost of borrowing.

Grace Period: This is the period between the end of the billing cycle and the payment due date, during which you can pay your balance in full without incurring interest. This is a very valuable feature to manage your finances if used wisely.

Credit Utilization Ratio: This is the percentage of your credit limit that you are currently using and is calculated by dividing your credit card balance by your credit limit. Keeping it low is essential for maintaining a healthy credit score.

Statement Balance: Total amount owed on your credit card at the end of the billing cycle. This is the amount you need to pay by the due date to avoid interest.

Available Credit: This is the portion of your unused credit limit and is calculated as the difference between your total credit limit and statement balance.

Late Payment Fee: This is a fee levied by the credit card issuer if you fail to make the minimum payment by the statement due date. Late payments can negatively impact your credit score.

Annual Fee: Some credit cards charge an annual fee for the privilege of using their card. It’s important to understand whether your card has this fee and what it covers.

Foreign Transaction Fee: When you make purchases in foreign currencies or have transactions processed by foreign banks, you may be charged a foreign transaction fee, typically a percentage of the transaction amount.

Cash Advance Fee: This fee is applied when you use your credit card to get cash from an ATM or through cash advances. Cash advances often have higher interest rates and fees, so they should be avoided when possible.

Armed with these essential terms, you will be better positioned to navigate the credit card landscape and make informed decisions about your financial future. In the next sections, we will explore tips for responsible credit card use and strategies to maintain and / or improve your credit score.

Selecting the Right Credit Card For Your Financial Needs

Credit cards are versatile tools, and each is tailored with unique features and fee structures to cater to a range of financial situations and goals. Understanding these differences are important in choosing a credit card that aligns with your personal and financial goals.

Types of Credit Cards: A Spectrum of Choices

Standard Credit Cards: The most basic form, these cards offer a line of credit with standard features such as a fixed credit limit and a grace period for repayments.

Rewards Credit Cards: Designed for those who wish to earn rewards on their purchases, these cards allow you to accumulate points, miles, or cashback on everyday purchases turning everyday spending into potential savings or travel experiences.

Balance Transfer Credit Cards: Ideal for individuals seeking to consolidate debt, these cards often feature low or 0% introductory APR offers on balance transfers, allowing for easier debt management.

Student Credit Cards: Specifically designed for students, these cards often have lower credit limits and may offer rewards or educational incentives for responsible use.

Business Credit Cards: Catered to business owners, these cards come with higher credit limits and business-specific rewards like office supplies discounts or travel perks.

Charge Cards: Unlike typical credit cards, charge cards require you to pay the full balance each month. They usually don’t have a pre-set spending limit, offering flexibility for certain users.

Evaluating Fees and Features

Each type of credit card comes with a unique fee structure and set of features to consider:

Annual Fees: Some cards, particularly rewards and premium cards, often charge an annual fee

Interest Rates (APR): Interest rates are crucial if you plan to carry a balance, as higher rates can significantly increase the cost of borrowing.

Rewards and Benefits: Evaluate the rewards structure — whether it aligns with your spending habits and provides tangible benefits.

Credit Limit: Consider the credit limit offered, ensuring it matches your financial requirements without encouraging overspending.

Additional Charges: Some cards have potential fees such as late payment fees, foreign transaction fees, and cash advance fees.

Selecting the Right Card for You

Choosing the right credit card involves a reflective process, considering your financial habits, goals, and current credit status:

Analyze Your Spending Patterns: Consider where you spend the most (i.e. groceries, restaurants or travel and average monthly spend in the different categories. Opt for a card that offers accelerated rewards in areas where you spend the most. For example, many cards offer accelerated rewards for spending related to travel or groceries and restaurants. Understanding your spending patterns will help you choose a card that offers the most rewards and benefits for your lifestyle and spending habits.

Identify Your Financial Goals: Whether it’s building credit, earning rewards, or managing debt, your goal will guide your choice. Ask yourself what you want to achieve with your credit card. Are you looking to earning cashback rewards to save money on everyday expenses or travel rewards for free flights and hotel stays or a low interest credit card to carry a balance?

Consider Your Credit History: Your credit score plays a significant role in the types of credit cards you can qualify for. If you have excellent credit, you’ll have access to premium cards with better rewards. If your credit needs improvement, you may need to start with a secured card or a card designed for those with lower credit scores.

Compare Annual Fees: Many credit cards charge an annual fee for card membership. Consider whether the rewards and benefits of the card justify the associated fee. Some premium cards offer high rewards and perks that can outweigh the annual fee.

Rewards and Benefits: Different cards offer various rewards and benefits such as cashback cards which offer a percentage of your spending back as cash or travel rewards which offer points to be redeemed on travel related expenses. Other perks can also include sign up bonuses, purchase protection, extended warranties and coverage against theft or damage, rental car insurance and airport lounge access.

Credit Card Network: Check which card network the credit card belongs to (i.e. Visa, Mastercard, American Express). The network can affect acceptance and benefits.

Foreign Transaction Fees: If you frequently travel internationally, a card with no foreign transaction fees can save you money on currency conversion and foreign purchases.

Credit Card Terms: Review the card’s terms and conditions, including late payment fees, penalty APR, and how the issuer reports to credit bureaus.

In essence, the ideal credit card is one that not only matches your financial lifestyle but also supports your financial growth and goals. By carefully evaluating the types of cards available, understanding their associated fees and features, and aligning them with your personal financial landscape, you can make an informed decision that paves the way for a healthy financial future. It’s essential to use your credit card responsibly to maximize its benefits and avoid debt. Remember, the right credit card should be a financial tool that works for you, enhancing your fiscal discipline and bringing you closer to your financial objectives.

Advantages and Disadvantages of Credit Cards

Credit cards offer both pros and cons and it’s important to be aware of these to make sure that credit card use is suitable for your lifestyle.

Pros of Credit Card Use:

Convenience: Credit cards are convenient for making purchases, whether you’re shopping in-store, online, or traveling. They eliminate the need to carry large amounts of cash.

Builds Credit: Responsible credit card use can help you build and improve your credit score. A positive credit history is crucial for future financial endeavors like buying a home or securing a low-interest loan.

Rewards and Benefits: Many credit cards offer rewards such as cashback, travel miles, or points. These rewards can help you save money or enjoy perks like free flights or hotel stays on your regular day to day spending.

Security: Credit cards provide better fraud protection compared to debit cards. If your credit card is used fraudulently, you can dispute the charges, and your liability is usually limited.

Emergency Funds: Credit cards can serve as a financial safety net during emergencies when you do not have cash readily available.

Purchase Protection: Credit cards often come with purchase protection, which can include extended warranties and coverage against theft or damage for items purchased with the card.

Budget Tracking: Credit card statements provide detailed records of your spending, making it easier to track expenses and budget effectively.

Cons of Credit Card Use:

High-Interest Rates: Credit cards can have high-interest rates (APRs), especially if you carry a balance. Paying only the minimum can result in substantial interest charges.

Debt Accumulation and Minimum Payment Trap: It’s easy to accumulate debt with credit cards, especially if you’re not disciplined with your spending. Carrying a high balance can lead to financial stress. Paying only the minimum payment can lead to a cycle of debt, as it may take a long time to pay off the balance, and you’ll accrue interest in the process.

Fees: Credit cards may have various fees, including annual fees, late payment fees, cash advance fees, and foreign transaction fees. These fees can add up quickly.

Credit Score Impact: Mismanaged credit card use, such as missed payments or high credit utilization, can harm your credit score and make it difficult to secure loans or obtain favorable interest rates in the future.

Temptation to Overspend and Impulsive Purchases: The ease of credit card use can tempt individuals to overspend, leading to financial instability. Credit cards can also encourage impulsive buying behavior, as the immediate cost is deferred.

To make the most of credit card benefits while minimizing the disadvantages, it’s essential to use credit cards responsibly. This means paying your balance in full each month to avoid interest charges, staying within your budget, and being mindful of your financial goals. Understanding the potential pitfalls of credit card use can help you make informed decisions and use credit cards as a valuable financial tool.

Conclusion: Navigating the Path to Credit Wisdom

In this comprehensive exploration of credit card basics, we’ve embarked on a journey through the intricate world of credit cards, from understanding key terms to selecting the right card for your financial needs. We’ve seen how credit cards, when used wisely, can be powerful tools for convenience, rewards, and financial growth, yet they require a balanced approach to avoid common pitfalls like debt accumulation and high interest.

As we conclude this article, remember that the journey to mastering credit card use is an ongoing process. It’s not just about choosing the right card; it’s about developing a deeper understanding and a responsible mindset towards credit. By doing so, you can harness the benefits of credit cards to your advantage, whether it’s for building a strong credit history, earning rewards, or managing finances effectively.

This article is just the beginning. “Unlocking Financial Freedom: A Guide to Credit Card Basics” is part of a series dedicated to providing you with the knowledge and tools needed for financial empowerment.

Stay tuned for more in-depth discussions in this series, as we continue to unlock the secrets of financial freedom and security, one step at a time. Your path to becoming a savvy credit card user and a prudent financial decision-maker is well on its way!

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[angelbluediary]

(I'll always find something to complain about)

For months, I was going out of my mind with worry about this summer: securing an income, where I'd be staying once my lease is up. I was applying for all kinds of jobs I otherwise would never, ever want. And it has been the biggest hit to my ego to have what I thought were great interviews, and then not be offered the minimum wage, part time job, with a Master's degree. I cling to my degree because it feels like the only thing I have to show for my entire life. All that work, for what? I was always told it mattered. I was told it guaranteed me jobs, that a Bachelor's alone would change everything. That was a lie. Months of bargaining and begging and praying and now I don't care anymore. I'm moving back in with my parents. I'm sharing a room with my sibling. I'll never have so much as an hour to myself again for the next foreseeable months. I toggle between extreme gratitude and despair every day. At least this gives me time to get back on my feet, but there's still endless payments I have to make during this cycle, there's no real "rest."

I couldn't land a job in this city where everything is 20 minutes away. But there's nothing where my parents are. So whatever job I get in the near future, I predict being in the car for at least 2 hours every day, working for some company I don't give a shit about. I'll have to get up at 4 am every day. So in some aspects, this change in living situation will ease normal stressors I've been dealing with for over the past year, but it'll make other things so much harder. And going from being completely, totally alone all the time, to not having a shred of privacy since my siblings spend their entire lives in their rooms. And I'm nervous. I'm nervous about being a trigger to everyone in such close quarters. I've always been the only one itching to get out and live my own life, the only one who ever rebelled against our parents as a teen and challenged their views. My siblings seem so comfortable living their adult years folded into that nest, not applying for jobs (well, M is getting some money from the school now through a program, but his interest in income seems to have only stemmed from wanting to spoil his boyfriend with gifts?). I'm nervous about ruffling feathers unintentionally. I'm nervous about being the black sheep and the scapegoat and the one who is making everyone else uncomfortable because my opinions and desires are so different. And I want to be authentic but I don't want to be any kind of burden or trouble to anyone more than I already will be.

I can't help but feel like a failure. I know I need this reset time before I spring back out into the world again on my own terms, but I can't shake this deep sadness and anger at how everything turned out for me in comparison to the lives others who hurt me are shaping out. I have always tried to be kind and graceful in situations where I deserved to rip heads off. To release and forgive. But now I think all that forgiveness was false, because I'm still aching here while everyone else has moved on to bigger and better futures, possibly without ever having learned their lessons or working on themselves to become better people after inflicting so much fucking trauma on me. When I think back on the things I was going through regularly, things I normalized, I'm astounded. And so sad for past me. I need therapy, and don't know when that will ever be accessible again. My dad suggested I fictionalize my story and write about these things with some narrative distance, but I can't even bring myself to approach it from that lens. Truthfully I don't want to do anything but complain and feel sorry for myself nowadays. All my fight is gone. I don't see the point to anything because nothing motivates me or feels right for me or offers me any sort of glimpse of the future. I know I'm not trapped but it feels that way. I just want to be a human being without the working and struggling and fighting to survive every single day, and just take the time to heal myself with no other obligations. To be hugged and held and reassured until I feel a little less broken. I feel like I've lost so much of my own mind after all of this. So much stress in my body I hurt all over like I'm not in my twenties.

I have to trust that this is exactly what I need, and that every little change is for my self-betterment. Being forced to get up earlier, and remembering how to share space with other people, and working hard so I can rebuild my finances and independence. Having this time to carefully weigh all my options before making a move (literally).

It's funny that I spent so long fighting hard to fill my apartment with furniture and items to give me some form of external validation, and now I have to put just about every single thing I own in storage.

With a change in environment and routine, maybe the things I'm so worked up about right now will naturally dissolve and I'll find my passion again. Maybe I'll still be able to fall in love before my thirties. Maybe unspeakable beauty will emerge from this seemingly dull new cycle. We'll see.

[dankusner]

Minimum Payment Due

It was four o’clock in the afternoon and my phone was ringing, number unknown, which meant, of course, that it was one of the collection agencies.

They had called me three days ago.

They had called me three days before that.

They were clearly not going to take no answer for an answer.

The last time I’d made the mistake of picking up, the woman had sounded as if she was about twenty years old, calling from somewhere in the heartland, speaking with flat vowels and a maternal tone, firm but loving, never mind the age difference.

“We would hate for it to come to that,” she said, which was code for legal proceedings. I wanted to tell her that the irony was that sooner or later someone was going to be calling her about the student loans she couldn’t pay back. Instead, I said, “No, Ma’am. Yes, Ma’am.”

There was additional irony in the fact that the phone I was using had been bought on credit the week before—because I’m susceptible to sales—increasing the grand total of what I owed, distributed across two Visas, one Mastercard, and an American Express, not to mention Target, Walmart, and Best Buy.

But that was the kind of irony that wasn’t funny. Meanwhile, compound interest was accruing daily.

Why I decided to answer the phone this time, I don’t know.

There are a lot of things I do that I don’t know.

“Who may I ask is calling?”

I said. I was hoping that I would come across as professional and aboveboard, as if my insolvency were the result of an unfortunate misunderstanding, as opposed to my habit of spending more money than I made.

But I could already feel the resignation creeping into my voice, soon to be followed by panic.

In a minute, I would be begging the twenty-year-old to have mercy on me and my financial situation.

“Please, Ma’am. Please, Ma’am! Please, Ma’am!!!”

But it was a man calling me.

He probably knew I had the day off.

He probably knew I was home.

He sounded chummy and omniscient as he read off the script.

The script said that we were on a first-name basis, which was as good an indication as any of how far I’d fallen in social standing.

The script also said that my monetary struggle had been going on for five years, give or take.

“What have you been doing these past five years?” he asked me.

The strange bluntness of the question, for which I had no adequate answer, caught me off guard. “I’ve been working,” I told him.

He liked that I’d been working. “I’ve been working, too,” he said.

“I’ve been working on myself.”

I didn’t know what that meant.

“I didn’t know what that meant, either,” he said.

“But then I learned.”

I wasn’t quite sure what he was talking about or where this conversation was heading, but I had the distinct feeling that I was stepping into a trap.

In a minute, I was going to be hanging upside down in the forest, begging this man to have mercy on me and my financial situation.

“May I share with you what I have learned?” he asked, his voice gentle, his words scripted.

He was asking me a question, yes, but it was evident that I had no choice in the matter.

In the awkward silence that followed, I was sure he could sense my confusion and trepidation.

He tried again.

“Even if I fail,” he said, “at least I did my best.”

And this was when I realized that I had got everything wrong and that this wasn’t a collection agent I was talking to but, rather, my friend Reggie, whom I hadn’t heard from in about five years.

Reggie, who had grown up down the street from me, two brothers, single mother;

Reggie, who had dropped out of high school his junior year, because he was failing anyway, and had come back into my life when he happened to be hired by the mailroom at the tech startup where I worked as a software engineer.

He would stop by my desk twice a day to drop off packages, the sunshine streaming through the clerestory windows of the former Nabisco factory, which still sometimes smelled like cookies.

His hair was beginning to thin, and I was in the early stages of debt, but I was not badly in debt.

We would always take a few minutes to reminisce about our childhoods, which seemed idyllic to me in hindsight.

The time we went trick-or-treating in the rain.

The time we took three public buses to swim in the wave pool by the mall.

Considering that not too long ago we had been equals, I felt a bit self-conscious about the obvious imbalance between us now.

I was the twenty-third hire in the company, and he was working in the basement.

I was aware of how he would gaze at me with wonder as I sat in my swivel chair in the sunlight, writing code incomprehensible to the uninitiated.

I was doing, of course, what had been done to me at great detriment—persuading people to consume.

But this was the kind of irony I could not see.

“It’s easier than it looks,” I told Reggie one day.

“Maybe you could teach me,” he said. “If it’s that easy.”

The truth was: it wasn’t that easy.

“Sure,” I said.

But, before I had to actually follow through on my promise, the C.E.O. hired a C.F.O., and the C.F.O. downsized the mailroom while I continued to pay the minimum due on my Mastercard.

Now Reggie was catching me up on what he’d been doing the past five years, which mostly centered on the past week, when everything had finally come together for him, just like that.

He still sounded chummy, but he also sounded as if he was performing being chummy.

“I’m graduating,” he told me.

“From college?” I asked him.

“You could say that,” he said.

“What does that mean?” I said.

This was funny to him. “Meaning,” he said, as if the word “meaning” had its own deeper meaning. In any case, he wanted me to come to his graduation so that I could celebrate what he had accomplished in the past week.

“May I share with you what I have learned?” He had already asked me this question.

“What have you learned?” I asked him.

He couldn’t tell me quite yet. I had to see for myself.

“If you like what you see, maybe you’ll sign up.”

“Sign up for what?” I asked.

He was unfazed. “Don’t worry,” he said, “I was skeptical in the beginning, too.”

I thought of my credit cards, my car loan, my overdraft fees.

“I’m not interested in signing up,” I told him.

This was what he had been waiting to hear. “You answered the phone for a reason,” he said.

It had not always been like this, my debt.

But precisely how it began, I couldn’t quite remember, except that at some point I woke up to find that my outstanding balances had been transformed overnight into an impossible financial liability.

I wanted to blame it on a credit-card statement that, early on in my journey toward insolvency, had given me the option to take the next month off, no strings attached, assuring me that there would not be any penalty for forgoing the minimum payment due on the low four figures that I already owed.

It was the holidays, and it had seemed like a nice idea at the time, a convenient idea, but I had not bothered to read the fine print, which would have informed me that, payment or no payment, interest would continue to accrue.

This was only the first of many reckless errors in judgment that I made, my balance slowly climbing the mountain from four figures to five while I consoled myself, every step of the way, with the thought that I would begin tracking my expenses and monitoring my progress, preferably by way of a computer program that I would write—I was a software engineer, after all.

But, mostly, I was hoping that I would come into a windfall that would wipe the slate clean and allow me to start over from scratch.

Meanwhile, there was the lunch I ate at Outback Steakhouse because a menu had been slipped under my front door, and the shoes I bought because of a billboard I had seen, and so on and so forth, the nickels and dimes continuing to add up, until one afternoon, while I was scrolling through Instagram on my new phone—two phones ago from my current one—a photo of a book by Tony Robbins, of all people, popped up in my feed, no doubt reposted by one of his seven million followers.

“Awaken the Giant Within,” it was called. If it weren’t for the million copies sold, I might have scrolled past.

“How to Take Immediate Control of Your Mental, Emotional, Physical and Financial Destiny!” read the subtitle. It was the last one in the list, of course, the financial, that I most needed the giant to take control of—the rest of it I could have done without.

Tony Robbins’s big, handsome face was displayed on the cover. He looked like he could have been a quarterback from my high school turned life coach turned entrepreneur.

He appeared a little forlorn, a little pained. “I’ve been there, brother,” his expression seemed to say. “I know what you’re going through.”

The list price was $20.99.

I read the five-hundred-some pages while eating my lunch in the cafeteria at the startup, the sunlight streaming through the clerestory windows.

By the time I had reached Chapter 3, I was convinced that the giant could probably assist with my emotional, mental, and physical destiny as well. I learned about change and power. I learned about more complex concepts such as submodality and neuro-association. But, true to form, Tony Robbins explained everything in a way I could understand. He was accessible and down-to-earth. He recounted a story of how he had been flying his private jet helicopter to one of his many seminars when he noticed a building below where, years earlier, he had worked as a janitor—which made me think that perhaps one day I would be flying across the city in my own helicopter, reflecting on how far I’d come from near financial ruin. Occasionally, the text would be broken up by a particularly apt cartoon from the funny pages, or some white space for me to write my goals, or an aspirational quote from someone like Seneca or Socrates or Tony Robbins himself: “It is in your moments of decision that your destiny is shaped.”

I did what he said to do. Or at least I tried to. I avoided negativity. I avoided procrastination. I tried to alter my submodalities. More to the point, I tried to curb my spending and pay my bills. My debt stabilized. Then it decreased slightly. A month later, it had increased slightly. Up and down it went. Mainly up. I existed in this state for a while, a state of fluctuation and inconstancy which Tony Robbins would have likely categorized as one of the ten action signals: “If the message your emotions are trying to deliver is ignored, the emotions simply increase their amperage.” It was right around this time that the startup hired a wellness director who was all in on promoting mental health, with an emphasis on self-care and self-awareness, and it seemed as though this might be the next logical step in my journey toward solvency. In the meantime, I ordered a few more of Tony Robbins’s New York Times best-selling books for $20.99 each, including “Money: Master the Game.” Was it a game? It didn’t feel like a game.

The therapist I found was a nice enough guy, mild-mannered, soft-spoken, more uncle than life coach, and only partly covered by my insurance after I met the deductible. He would greet me once a week, in a jacket and tie, in his ground-floor office, with watercolors of foggy landscapes on the wall alongside framed diplomas of his three degrees from three different area universities—B.A., M.S.W., Ph.D. I assumed that these were intended to help accentuate his credentials and offset the fact that he was working out of a converted studio apartment in a residential building which faced a courtyard where I would sometimes see tenants walking past the window with their dogs. This therapist projected neither the command nor the conviction of Tony Robbins, and it made me wonder if he perhaps lacked a certain resoluteness in whatever insights he might have about me. I spent the first few weeks lying on a couch, staring up at the ceiling, trying to pretend I wasn’t self-conscious about having a conversation with a stranger while in a supine position. There was a box of tissues beside me on the floor, the presumption being, I suppose, that I would eventually have a breakthrough in which the tears would flow freely, providing me with clarity and the ability to pay off my bills. When the therapist spoke, he was encouraging and affirming, his disembodied voice seeming to come from behind and above at the same time. “Yes,” he would say. “Of course,” he would say. But mostly he listened. Mostly, I talked about not knowing what to talk about.

“You reached out to me for a reason,” he would say.

Then one session I happened to quote Tony Robbins in passing: “Negative things you tell yourself are inCANTations, turn them into inCANtations.” It had always been one of my favorite sayings.

I could hear the therapist shifting in his chair. “Huh?” he said.

“Tony Robbins,” I said.

“Any ideas on how to convince the public that we’re cute?” Cartoon by Elisabeth McNair There was a pause. “Tony Robbins is a charlatan,” the therapist said. This was the first time he had ever offered something that resembled a personal opinion.

“How do I know you’re not a charlatan?” I wanted to say. I stared up at the ceiling. Eventually, I said, “Tony Robbins helped me with my debt.” This wasn’t quite true, but it was somewhat true. This was also the first time I had ever mentioned my debt. In fact, I had been doing my best to avoid mentioning it.

Now the therapist was alert and assertive. “How much do you owe?” he asked. It was too late for me to backtrack. He waited while I calculated the figure in my head, the various principals, the late fees, the penalties, the surcharges. Then I did what everyone does when they are consumed with denial and shame: I rounded down and lowballed the figure. The lowball was still a lot.

He wanted to know how it had come to this.

“I’m easily swayed,” I said.

“What does that mean?” he asked.

I thought it was self-explanatory.

Apropos of nothing, he suggested I describe how things had been at the dinner table when I was growing up. “Let’s start there,” he said.

I didn’t want to start there. I knew that he was operating under the assumption that what happened in adulthood must be attributed to what had happened in childhood. I told him that I had been given everything. A middle-class upbringing. Two parents. Private school.

“Dig deeper,” he said.

Instead, I stared up at the ceiling. What came to mind was Reggie and his childhood. No father, no future, and a mother who worked long hours as a secretary. Not long after Reggie had been laid off from the tech firm, I had gone to visit him at an S.R.O. where he was staying, on the south side of the city. “Till I get my feet on the ground,” he said. We sat side by side on the edge of his bed, because that was the only furniture he had, both of us pretending that he hadn’t hit rock bottom. He wanted to know how everything was at work. He didn’t seem to harbor any ill will at having lost his job in the mailroom. I overplayed the grind of writing code. “Hang in there,” he said. “I’ll try,” I said. I didn’t tell him that the company was about to have its I.P.O.

Six months later, the therapist and I were still at an impasse and I was still in debt.

“These things take time,” he told me.

“How much time?” I asked him.

For this, he had no answer. Tony Robbins would have had an answer.

I thought of all the money I owed my creditors. I thought of all the interest on all the money I owed. “Even if I start paying it now,” I said, “I will be behind forever.”

“Sunk-cost fallacy,” he said.

Fallacy or not, I paid for my final sessions using my Mastercard.

The last time I had been to the Wyndham Hotel & Resort was three years earlier, for a three-day expo showcasing the latest in software engineering, like integrated development environments and so forth. Now I was back for Reggie’s graduation. It was happy hour, and the lobby was crowded with hotel guests drinking free wine out of plastic cups while smooth jazz played over the speakers. Just past the entrance, next to the luggage carts, I was greeted by a young woman standing behind a registration table with a sign that read “Congratulations Graduates.” “We’ve been waiting for you,” she said. If this was intended to make me feel special, it worked. Then she handed me a nametag without a name. She could see my confusion. “We don’t believe in names,” she said, by way of explanation. “Names are labels.” She told me this as if it had already been determined and was now a foregone conclusion. I suppose it did make a certain kind of sense. She smiled at me. She already knew it made sense.

Through the hallways of the Wyndham Hotel & Resort, I walked. I was wearing a suit for the occasion—it was a graduation, after all—which I had bought on sale with one of my Visas, and every so often a guest would pass me going the other way, en route to happy hour, glancing with a mixture of curiosity and concern at the big blank nametag affixed to my new blue suit. Down another hallway, I walked, and then another, the sound of a tenor saxophone from the lobby slowly fading as I went, until I arrived at my destination, the Wyndham Ballroom, with high ceilings and no windows, where some of the other things that this group apparently did not believe in were chairs and overhead lighting. There were about a hundred people sitting cross-legged in rows on the floor, surrounded by a dozen lamps, all turned low. The mood was serene and contemplative. The mood was quiet and expectant. In a different setting, this would have been nap time at a nursery school. At the far end of the ballroom was a temporary stage with a podium, above which hung another banner, this one reading “Welcome Guests.” Who were the graduates and who were the guests, I was not sure. Where Reggie was, I did not know. I took a seat on the floor at the end of the back row, beside a young woman who was also wearing a blank nametag and who looked similar to the young woman who had checked me in a few minutes earlier. But in the dim glow of the room I was not sure of this, either. I was not sure of much of anything, except that I had entered a place where certain rules had been rewritten.

The paisley carpeting of the ballroom was soft, surprisingly so, and it smelled as if it had been recently shampooed. I had spent the past nine hours writing code, and another nine hours the day before that, and I had the feeling that the reality of my life was now very far away. If nothing else happened tonight, it would have been worth it just to have the opportunity to sit on the carpet for a while, contemplating nothing. But suddenly a woman appeared onstage, her heels echoing as she approached the podium. She looked stately and important. She exuded power and prestige. She was wearing a long necklace of pearls that showcased her success and partially obscured her blank nametag. From my vantage point, three feet off the floor, she appeared quite tall. There was a microphone on the podium, but she did not use the microphone. Perhaps she did not believe in microphones. No amplification needed. No introduction needed, either. She was clearly the one in charge. She spoke directly to us. She got right into it.

What she got right into was that this was indeed a graduation but not a graduation from college or any type of accredited program. This must have been something of an inside joke, because the audience found it funny for some reason, and sitting there amid the laughter I realized that I might be the only guest here tonight, along perhaps with the woman beside me, who also did not seem to understand the humor.

“No diploma, no degree,” the woman in charge said, and again this was funny. According to her, the ceremony tonight was to acknowledge all the hard work that had been done by the students who were not really students, during three days of classes that were not really classes. But this was only one step in the process. After this step came the next step. The next step was signing up for the next class. “The mechanism takes time,” she said. “The mechanism is detailed.” I had no idea what mechanism she was referring to, but a low murmur of assent coursed through the audience. By the way, she said, maybe the guests themselves might be interested in signing up for Step One. She paused to let her words sink in. She stared down at the rows of people sitting cross-legged on the floor, as if looking for a show of hands. No, I was not interested. “No, don’t decide yet,” she said. “Wait until you’ve heard more.” No, I didn’t need to hear more.

This was when the brochures were passed through the rows, the brochures that would explain everything. I was aware that the boundary between guest and potential customer was purposely being blurred. The woman in charge seemed to somehow intuit this. She grew despondent at the implication. “Try to stay . . . ,” she said, but she trailed off, having apparently lost her train of thought. Her voice was softer now, as she struggled to find the right phrase, the elusive phrase, what was it? Her first oratorical misstep. “Try to stay . . . ,” she said again. She was flustered and blushing. She was human and vulnerable. As if to steady herself, she grasped the microphone that she was not using. Then it suddenly came to her—“open-minded” was the word. “Try to stay open-minded,” she said. Ha ha. When the audience laughed, it was the laughter of empathy and understanding. No one is perfect, ha ha. How silly of her to have forgotten such a basic word.

“Tell that little voice in your head,” she said. “You know, that little voice, the one always doubting, always questioning. You know that one?” Yes, the audience knew that one. “Tell that little voice, ‘Little voice, for the next couple of hours you can talk all you want. I cannot stop you from talking, but that does not mean I am going to pay attention to you.’ ” This was not the first time I had heard this suggestion. My therapist had often talked about the necessity of considering new ideas, including unusual ones, especially unusual ones, and so had Tony Robbins, with his submodalities and whatnot. Even the credit agents had encouraged me to be flexible. “We want to work with you,” they would say. For whatever reasons, I had never been able to remain open to what was being suggested. “The reasons are deep-seated,” the therapist had told me, but I had not had the patience to try to unearth them. And yet it occurred to me now that perhaps I had made some progress, however incremental, sitting here on the floor of a hotel ballroom, wearing a nametag without a name, doing my best to try to follow along as the woman onstage talked about the mechanism, whatever it was, that would replace all the other mechanisms, whatever those were. She was on a roll, and I was lost. She was obviously speaking to those already in the know. She was nothing if not a compelling speaker. The most I could gather was that she was referring not to an actual machine or even any sort of object but, rather, to a way of operating—a mechanism—that would produce a desired outcome. Or something like that. In any event, it appeared that specific words had been redefined so that their meanings were made unclear—or unclear to the uninitiated. Or perhaps this was one more example of my closed mind.

The brochure had an illustration of a maze on the cover—no doubt a metaphor for life, which the mechanism would help solve. The type was small, and the light was dim, and I could barely read any of the text except for the subheadings, Step One, Step Two, Step Three, so on, toward some sort of enlightenment, and on the very last page, at the very bottom, was the price of enrollment, listed at four figures, which could be paid in installments starting at five hundred dollars. In other words, buy now, pay later. That, at least, was a meaning that was clear to me.

“Are you one of those people,” the woman in charge was asking us, “who has been trying to solve a problem? But, no matter what you do, you cannot solve the problem?” From thirty feet away, her eyes met mine, and she held my gaze for what seemed slightly longer than normal for the average public speaker. It was long enough to give me the impression that she had been able to discern something essential about my affliction, and it was long enough to make me consider that, if she could know something about me within half an hour, imagine how much could be accomplished in the three days it would take to complete Step One. I thought of my finances. I thought of my maxed-out credit cards, and the late fees, and the ever-accruing interest. “Yes,” I said to her in my mind. “Yes, I am one of those people trying to solve a problem. How did you know?” But she was already looking at the woman sitting beside me.

Soon it was time for the testimonials, i.e., the hard sell from the satisfied customers. “But don’t take my word for it,” the woman in charge told us, and here came the graduates, to share how much they had learned, how much they had changed, how much they had overcome in only a few days, their tales of woe and hardship now permanently consigned to the past. One by one, they spoke, variations on a theme—abuse, trauma, suffering. It was late, and I was tired. Among the other things that they apparently did not believe in were bathroom breaks. Why I didn’t just get up and leave, I do not know. And then, from out of the darkness, Reggie appeared onstage. But this Reggie bore no resemblance to the one I had known. He had lost weight and gained confidence. He had somehow gained good looks, too. He was wearing a suit that was nicer than my suit, and if I hadn’t known any better I might have thought he was a model who had been hired for the evening. “Distinguished graduates and guests,” he said, and even his voice and diction seemed to have been transformed into something powerful and authoritative. Whatever had happened in the intervening years since I had last seen him had been miraculous. But, the way he told it, this had not taken years—it had taken only one class. Now he was going to sign up for the next class. Imagine what the next class would do if the first class had done so much. I wondered, How had he been able to afford two classes? “If I can do it,” he said, “anyone can do it.”

He’d had a tremendous amount of adversity, beginning with his childhood. His childhood was worse than the other speakers’ childhoods. His childhood was worse than I had known. He had never really talked about it with me, and I had never thought to ask. I had accepted his circumstances merely as the natural order of things. But now he spoke openly. He spoke without shame. He did not seem encumbered by the past. “No one gave me anything,” he said. Here, I recalled the time he had asked me if I could teach him how to write code. “Someone like me doesn’t get to go to college,” he told us. He opened his arms wide, as if to indicate that he was now in effect graduating from a college that was not a college but was better than a college. He could have been Tony Robbins exhorting us to awaken the giant within as he flew his jet helicopter over the tech firm where he had once toiled in the mailroom. The ballroom was suddenly filled with applause, long and loud, and I applauded, too, because he was my friend, and because I was proud of him, and because to do otherwise would have made me conspicuous in a ballroom full of like-minded people. The woman onstage was embracing him, along with the other speakers. “Reggie!” I wanted to shout. “Reggie!” But I didn’t call his name, of course. He didn’t believe in names.

Now we had come to the end of the night, when we were supposed to turn to our neighbor and share what problem we were trying to solve. I suppose it was time for my testimonial. “What’s your story?” the young woman sitting beside me asked. I had no story except my debt. And debt wasn’t a story. Debt was a lack of foresight. Debt was being caught up in the moment. Debt was an indication of character. So, instead of telling her my story, I told her Reggie’s story. His was a good story. I picked up where he had left off. I told her how I had lost my job, how I had stayed at an S.R.O., how my best friend, who had always been there for me, had come to visit one afternoon, and how he had invited me to his graduation. The woman was leaning in to listen. She seemed to be sitting very close. I was not sure if I was smelling the shampoo from the carpet or the shampoo from her hair. I was not sure if she was the woman from the registration table, but I think I was sure. She wanted to know if I was going to sign up. I told her that I didn’t know. She said that she didn’t know, either. But she might. She probably would. In fact, she would.

“What do you have to lose?” she asked.

I had a brief glimpse of the future, where the five-hundred-dollar installment plan had turned into thousands of dollars, and then tens of thousands of dollars, and where I threw good money after bad, always thinking that I was just one step away from emerging from the maze once and for all and from finally solving the puzzle.

In the dim light of the ballroom, I could see that she was looking at me with something like compassion. “You came here tonight for a reason,” she said.