To Your Credit

"Remember that credit is money"

This little wonder of a statement wasn't uttered by a CEO of a major financial institution; nope - Chase is not even to blame for that one. Surprising, I know.
Believe it or not (and you American citizens may all know this valuable piece of information; in that case I do apologize most sincerely; I really don't want to waste your time: I heard it's money too) the author of the quote is one of the Founding Fathers of America, the beloved and awfully hair-styled, the one and only Benjamin Franklin.

He had to be some kind of visionary, or was struck by genius or something (living in such close proximity to thunder had to have some side effects, right?). Had he known that his future countrymen would so blindly follow his lead, he would have thought twice about what he was saying. Or twirl his tongue in his mouth seven times (French exercise recommended by grandmas and political advisers all over the board before you start talking. Exhausting but effective.)

So let me tell you a little bit about my experience with credit. No long financial talk (I would be totally incapable and most of all, unwilling to do so) and no miserable stories (not yet at least), just a few anecdotes to share...no worries.

Meet Sandra, former colleague of mine. On her first trip to IKEA (the mandatory thing to do when you arrive in a new city, especially in Chicago where you have the luxury of choice: Northern or Western suburbs? It determines your whole future so please pick carefully) she found herself confronted to a riddle. Something so big and incomprehensible that she was at loss for words (which didn't seem to happen very often according to the people who knew her much better than me. I believe them.)
The scene takes place at the check-out line; it's time to pay. Sandra opens her wallet to get her card.
IKEA Cashier: Credit or Debit?
Sandra: ...............
IKEA Cashier (slightly annoyed): Credit or Debit?
Sandra (looks at Mireille, her driver and co-shopper for the day, for help. She doesn't understand a word, or rather understands the words but cannot make anything of them. Sweat begins to pearl at her eyebrows, her heart beats faster. She mutters): uhhhhh....I dunno...really...I just have a blue card.
IKEA Cashier (out of her mind): Honey, I don't care if your card is blue, red or yellow. I just want to know if you want to pay credit or debit. OK?!?!?

I am sure that just like Sandra, you now need a few words of explanation.
French people have a much simpler relationship with means of payment; we have of course old hard cash, checks and cards. ONE TYPE OF CARD that we use to withdraw money from the ATM (or distributeur automatique) AND pay for whatever we buy, wherever we buy it. It can be Visa or Mastercard (aren't we an advanced civilization. FYI the electronic chip on cards - a basic security feature - is a French invention. So please shut up and let me go on with my story); but back in the days everybody had a carte bleue or blue card; most people still refer to their debit card as 'blue card' (which is indeed very often blue, as in the color. Just sayin'.)
Hence her reply.
The question for her didn't make any sense. There is one and only one way to pay with your card, and you really insist on names that would be 'debit'. You hand your card, the machine takes your money right there and now (or at least in the amount of time it takes to process the transaction) and you are done. No question asked; no hassle; no existential crisis.
Plus - you don't even have to decide between plastic or paper. French supermarkets are remarkably sweet and understanding towards their stressed out, tired and grumpy customers.

So the first trip to the grocery store comes as a surprise to most Frenchies, totally oblivious of the wicked and tortuous ways of the American financial system.
I still remember mine. Since I was by myself and didn't want to be spotted as a newbie who didn't know anything about the world, I chose blindly: 'debit', I said. That was easy: I had been told my whole life (at night time along with my prayers) that credit was a bad thing for you. The mere utterance of the word was enough to keep me away from it- and for quite a while.

So imagine my surprise when one day, someone took the time to sit down with me to try and explain that here, in Uncle Sam's country, the country of freedom, opportunity, big cars and gigantic candy bars, credit was actually something to pursue. You NEED credit. If you want to buy a car, a house or anything of importance you need to be able to show off a good credit history in order to get a better rate. In short, you need to show that you are able to successfully manage preexistent debts in order to be allowed to get more in debt.
Implacable logic.
I was lost.

It took me years and a banker-boyfriend to really understand what that was all about. But even now I still cannot believe that you can build a viable economy on such a flawed system. I guess that the last year or so has proved its limits but it hasn't shaken it to its roots. Credit is still desirable and sought after. I, for one, carry five credit cards. I keep my balances to a minimum, pay them on time and therefore has a credit score labeled as 'good'. I am still not quite sure of what it entails at the end of the day, and I am fine with it.

One day, when I am American - I'll get it.