“I’ve got this credit card, right?”
She taps the card.
“Uh huh,” Gregor says.
“Here’s what I’m going to do. I’m going to start ringing up purchases until this card’s close to being maxxed out.”
“I like this plan so far,” Gregor says. “New stereo!”
“Mail-order humidor,” says Samantha. “Then I’m going to apply for a new credit card. I’m living at Laura’s, right? So in the blank for ‘Combined Household Income’ I’m going to include hers, too.”
“It’s brilliant,” says Gregor.
“When I get my new credit card, I’ll pay off the balance for this Discover with the other. Discover will be so impressed that I paid off my giant balance that they’ll raise my credit limit. My name will appear suddenly in the databases of other credit card companies, with green lights and smiley faces next to it. I apply for everything that comes my way. I pay off the second balance with the third credit card.”
“Genius,” Gregor says.
“By this time, I’m recognized as a remarkably responsible credit card owner. I start to get the really good offers from the really good companies. Platinum Club. Unlimited lines of credit. They trust me. They know I’m not just some snot-nosed kid. Every month, when the balance comes, I just roll the whole thing onto a different credit card. All the companies are happy just bouncing the numbers between them. I’m happy because I get a free life. Eventually I either get run over by a truck or they figure out my scam. If that happens, I disappear, using my last working credit card to set myself up with a new identity somewhere else in America, never to be found.”
“Sounds great. Send me a postcard c/o the Barnes and Noble Cafe, okay?”
“The only problem is getting started,” she says. “The first step is to max out my card, and if there’s some kind of fatal flaw in this plan, I’d like to know before I’m stuck with having bought like a fucking breadmaker and non-stick wok.”