down, looked over the list of creditors and debts she’d printed out. “Emergencies?…I don’t see anything much here that looks like an actual emergency .”
Well, of course he wouldn’t understand how a little retail therapy could cure her of otherwise deep emotional problems. Look at him! He was wearing a suit that was obviously poorly made—she could see the stitching. And his shoes! Good God, his shoes—they were probably from Payless or maybe the dollar store. They were a bright unnatural shade of tan. The kind of color her father always said “took hundreds of naugas to make.” (For some reason, Naugahyde jokes were big in the Rafferty household.)
“I’m not planning an emergency,” Lorna said, “but what if there was something like, I don’t know—” What would he consider a reasonable emergency? “—I was stuck out of town. Or needed to pay medical bills. Or had car trouble,” assuming she could hold on to her car for another month, “or whatever.” She wondered if she should just keep one card, in secret. Just in case. But which would she choose? The Visa with the 9.8 percent interest rate but a $4,200 limit, or the American Express with the 16 percent interest rate but a $10,000 limit?
It was like Sophie’s Choice .
Phil Carson looked at her across his desk. He was a small man, but he had his hydraulic chair pumped up high, so he looked like a little kid on a high chair, looking slightly down at her. “Lorna, I’ve seen this before. You’re used to living a certain way, and you’re insecure about changing that lifestyle.”
He was right. He had her pegged. “That’s definitely true. Isn’t there another way to go about this?”
He shook his head. “Not at this point.” He picked up one of the pieces of paper. “You’re paying interest rates close to thirty percent. Your minimum payments take your debt-to-income ratio into the stratosphere. I’m no psychologist, and please don’t take this the wrong way, but living this way has to be hard on you.”
For some reason that last sentence, or maybe just the way he said it, made her suddenly feel like crumbling. Hot tears threatened to become a full-blown embarrassment. She swiped her hand across her eyes, looked down for a moment to compose herself, then said, “You’re right. I can’t keep doing this. I’ve got to do whatever it takes to get rid of this debt once and for all.”
Phil smiled. “I’ll be here to help. And I’ve got some ideas and suggestions for chipping away at the debt faster.”
“You do?” That sounded hopeful. “Like what?”
“Ever sell anything on eBay?”
She’d never even been to eBay. She’d always just thought of online auctions as a place where grown-ups who should have better interests got online and bought Beanie Babies and Who’s the Boss? lunchboxes and Hummel figures.
But maybe she was wrong.
The idea of selling stuff instead of taking on an additional job certainly appealed to her. “Like what? What do people sell, or buy, there?”
“ Anything . Collectibles, cookware, knickknacks, clothes, even shoes—”
Shoes!
Oh, no, no. She couldn’t. It was bad enough that she had people coming over tonight to perhaps trade shoes with. She wasn’t going to sell them off to faceless strangers for money. Money that would just be thrown into a dark, deep, pool of debt.
She’d make sacrifices. Work longer hours. Babysit in her off time, if necessary. Mow lawns, like she did in junior high.
But she wasn’t getting rid of the shoes.
No way.
“You know, I just don’t think that’s my thing,” she said, cutting him off.
He stopped. “Okay. That’s fine. It was just a suggestion.”
“I appreciate it, don’t get me wrong.”
“You’ll come up with something,” he said. “Everyone has different levels of comfort with this. And I know it can be difficult to face at first.”
“I’m facing it,” Lorna said, perhaps a tad defensively. “Head-on. This is me facing
Well, of course he wouldn’t understand how a little retail therapy could cure her of otherwise deep emotional problems. Look at him! He was wearing a suit that was obviously poorly made—she could see the stitching. And his shoes! Good God, his shoes—they were probably from Payless or maybe the dollar store. They were a bright unnatural shade of tan. The kind of color her father always said “took hundreds of naugas to make.” (For some reason, Naugahyde jokes were big in the Rafferty household.)
“I’m not planning an emergency,” Lorna said, “but what if there was something like, I don’t know—” What would he consider a reasonable emergency? “—I was stuck out of town. Or needed to pay medical bills. Or had car trouble,” assuming she could hold on to her car for another month, “or whatever.” She wondered if she should just keep one card, in secret. Just in case. But which would she choose? The Visa with the 9.8 percent interest rate but a $4,200 limit, or the American Express with the 16 percent interest rate but a $10,000 limit?
It was like Sophie’s Choice .
Phil Carson looked at her across his desk. He was a small man, but he had his hydraulic chair pumped up high, so he looked like a little kid on a high chair, looking slightly down at her. “Lorna, I’ve seen this before. You’re used to living a certain way, and you’re insecure about changing that lifestyle.”
He was right. He had her pegged. “That’s definitely true. Isn’t there another way to go about this?”
He shook his head. “Not at this point.” He picked up one of the pieces of paper. “You’re paying interest rates close to thirty percent. Your minimum payments take your debt-to-income ratio into the stratosphere. I’m no psychologist, and please don’t take this the wrong way, but living this way has to be hard on you.”
For some reason that last sentence, or maybe just the way he said it, made her suddenly feel like crumbling. Hot tears threatened to become a full-blown embarrassment. She swiped her hand across her eyes, looked down for a moment to compose herself, then said, “You’re right. I can’t keep doing this. I’ve got to do whatever it takes to get rid of this debt once and for all.”
Phil smiled. “I’ll be here to help. And I’ve got some ideas and suggestions for chipping away at the debt faster.”
“You do?” That sounded hopeful. “Like what?”
“Ever sell anything on eBay?”
She’d never even been to eBay. She’d always just thought of online auctions as a place where grown-ups who should have better interests got online and bought Beanie Babies and Who’s the Boss? lunchboxes and Hummel figures.
But maybe she was wrong.
The idea of selling stuff instead of taking on an additional job certainly appealed to her. “Like what? What do people sell, or buy, there?”
“ Anything . Collectibles, cookware, knickknacks, clothes, even shoes—”
Shoes!
Oh, no, no. She couldn’t. It was bad enough that she had people coming over tonight to perhaps trade shoes with. She wasn’t going to sell them off to faceless strangers for money. Money that would just be thrown into a dark, deep, pool of debt.
She’d make sacrifices. Work longer hours. Babysit in her off time, if necessary. Mow lawns, like she did in junior high.
But she wasn’t getting rid of the shoes.
No way.
“You know, I just don’t think that’s my thing,” she said, cutting him off.
He stopped. “Okay. That’s fine. It was just a suggestion.”
“I appreciate it, don’t get me wrong.”
“You’ll come up with something,” he said. “Everyone has different levels of comfort with this. And I know it can be difficult to face at first.”
“I’m facing it,” Lorna said, perhaps a tad defensively. “Head-on. This is me facing
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