Charging into Trouble?

A Spendaholic Reveals the Credit-Card Strategies

That Got Her Where She Is Today

By Laurie M. Lesser

ou play that thing like a slot machine,” my best friend Carol said to me the last time I saw her in New York. She was referring to the ATM machine I had just swiped my VISA card through. She was right. It was a time in my life when I never knew what would come out —the cash I requested or the white slip that read “Insufficient funds for this transaction.” 

     “I don’t know how you can live like that,” Carol said, shaking her head. She always knows exactly how much is in her checking account, which is, of course, always perfectly balanced. I told her I didn’t know how she could live the way she does, but not without a tinge of envy. “You’re so anal,” I snapped.

     I think my spending habits are genetic. My mother’s like this; my father’s even worse. They think that if you use a credit card to pay, it doesn’t really cost you anything, and that way they can afford to be as generous with their wallets as they are with their hearts.

      Carol told me this story about her daughter. Hannah, being 7 years old, has very childish and naïve ideas about money. The other week she wanted a new Barbie doll, and her mother said it was too expensive. It was just a week or two after Hannah’s birthday, which is not too long after Christmas.

      “I don’t have any money left,” Carol told her.

      “Just go to D’Agostino’s and put your card in the machine and get some,” Hannah said.

      Makes sense to me.

      When I am really broke and can’t withdraw any money from an ATM (because there’s nothing in the account), the solution seems obvious: charge it. Of course, charge cards have minimums, so you can’t just charge a simple sandwich and a glass of water. You are forced to have a decent meal, maybe a glass or two of wine—but it’s the only way to eat with no money. A girl can’t let herself starve, can she?

      Or, you go out with a friend or two and charge the whole meal and collect cash from them. You have a good meal with friends, feel good, and leave with more money in your pocket than when you walked in. What could be more sensible?

      Once Carol and I met for drinks in New York. I was totally broke at the time, but for some reason it was me who had invited her out. She was working across from the UN building, and we ended up at the Waldorf Astoria Hotel. Comfortable armchairs, piano music, and the vodka gimlets were only a couple of dollars more than in the cheap Irish bar on Second Avenue. And here I could pay with my VISA card. We ordered our two vodka gimlets on the rocks and looked around, feeling really cool and classy. I told her I was hungry; I really needed to eat something. We reached for the little bar menus on the low tables between the armchairs. The cheapest thing on the menu was $15 for a small serving of caviar and blinis. We had no choice.

      I put it all on my card, so it didn’t cost me anything at all that night. And now I can say I’ve had caviar and vodka in the Waldorf piano lounge.

       But there must be a better way!

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Laurie M. Lesser, a MAKING BREAD subscriber, works as a

freelance editor and writer in Paris.