About Men
Card Sharks
By Erick Lundegaard
If all my relatives suddenly died and all my friendshipsdried up and all of my subscriptions were cancelledand all of my bills were paid, I ___I____guaranteed mail– two pieces a week, by my estimation – for the creditcard companies ___II___me. They are the one constantin my ever-changing life. They are hot for what theythink lies in my wallet. They are not just hot for me,either. I realize this. They want everyone, send mail toeveryone. Everyone, that is, except those who need them most.
The absurdity in my case is the puny sum being sought. I work in a bookstore warehouse, lugging boxes and books around, at $8 per hour for 25 hours per week. That’s roughly $10,000 per year. One wouldthink that such a number could not possibly interestmassive, internetted corporations and conglomera-tions. Yet they all vie for my attention. Visa, Mastercard,Discover Card – it doesn’t matter – American Express,People’s Bank, Citibank, Household Bank F.S.B.,Choice, the GM Card, Norwest, Chevy Chase F.S.B.Not only am I preapproved, they tell me I’II have noannual fee. Their A.P.R. keeps dipping, like an auctionin reverse, as each strives to undercut the other: from14.98 to 9.98 to, now, 6.98 percent. I am titillated witheach newer, lower number, as if it were an inverse indi-cation of my self-worth.
(...)
At some point, in passing from computer to computer, my name even got smudged, so now many of the offers are coming not to Erik A. Lundegaard but to Erik A. Lundefreen. He may not exist, but he hasalready been preapproved for a $4,200 credit line onone of America’s best credit card values. After several of these letters, I began to wonder: What if Erik A.Lundefreen did sign up for their cards? What if he wenton a major spending spree, maxing them out and neverpaying them off? What would happen when the autho-rities finally arrived at his door?
(...)
In the old days, it was necessary to hide behind trees or inside farmhouses to outwit the authorities.Now it seems there’s no better hiding place than an improperly spelled, computer-generated name. It is the ultimate camouflage for our bureaucratic age. Mean while, the offers keep coming. A $2,000 cre-dit line, a $3,000 credit line, a $5,000 credit line. If a paltry income can’t keep them away, what will? Death? Probably not even death. I’ll be six feet underand still receiving mail. “Dear Mr. Lundefreen. Member ship criteria are becoming increasingly stringent. You, however, have demonstrated exceptional financial responsibility. Sign up now for this once in a lifetime offer.”
A.P.R. = Annual Percentage Rate
