A Credit Carol

[ProfMoneyWise]

A Credit Carol, Part I
A Dave Ramsey twist on a famous Christmas story

Dec 6, 2011 | WRITTEN BY CHRIS RUSSELL

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The front door closed with an angry thud.

A biting wind and needle-prick snowflakes bounced off Ebeloser Stooge's face as he pulled his long trench coat over his shoulders. It was bad enough that the weather was this way, but since his car had been repossessed the week before, now he had to walk to his favorite restaurant for lunch.

The sour lines on his 40-year-old face made him look closer to 70. The color of his thinning hair was more salt than pepper, and his mood was about as warm as the breeze that was cutting over his ears. Across the street, a handful of kids were having a snowball fight in a field and singing Christmas carols, laughing all the way.

"BAH! Who needs it?!" he said as he trudged down the icy sidewalk. "This miserable cold, all these holiday decorations around here. Christmas isn't such a big deal. Just a bunch of snotty kids running around, too full of sugar, begging Santa for presents. Who needs it?!"

The sky was cloudy and gray. Stooge cast one more look back over his shoulder at his 100%-financed townhouse and gave a quick, passing thought to when the mortgage rate would adjust. Hopefully not before he could figure out what to do about the amount he owed on the car that had to be settled. If he got another credit card, he could float a couple of balances and buy himself some time, but he wasn't sure.

He pushed the thoughts out of his head and continued down the street. The scenery during the mile-long journey from his house to the restaurant slowly changed from barren trees and frozen creeks to a smattering of local businesses, and finally he hit Main Street. It had plenty of small-town charm—white lights strung across rooftops, shop windows teeming with decorations, eager shoppers coming and going. The smell of Christmas cookies wafted through the air, but not even that was enough to brighten Stooge's mood. He continued on.

He arrived at his favorite restaurant, Martha's, and put his name on the wait list. Just as he was arriving, he saw a co-worker of his, Tim Small, paying his bill and preparing to leave. His 4-year-old daughter, Camille, was with him, decked out in her adorable pink coat, snowcap and mittens. As Tim handed over his cash to the smiling man behind the register, Camille tugged on his shirt.

"Daddy, can we pwease get a dessert to take home with us?" she asked.

Tim smiled. "No, honey. It's not in the budget Remember what we learned when we joined that Dave Ramsey website—My Total Money Makeover? We've only got enough cash for lunch today until Daddy gets paid on Friday."

"Okay," she said, not giving a second thought to it.

Before Stooge realized that she wasn't going to argue, he spoke up in a gruff, irritated voice. "Ah, Small, just put the meal on your credit card with the dessert so the kid doesn't start raising a ruckus!"

Tim spun around, and as soon as he saw who was speaking, his mood darkened as well.

"Oh, Ebeloser ... umm, nice to see you," he managed to get out. "Actually, we don't use credit cards. Too much stress. We just work with cash like Dave Ramsey talks about. When we buy something that way, we're done with it, and we don't have to worry about paying a bazillion percent on a card."

Stooge gave a frustrated, dismissive wave of his hand and sat down on a cushioned seat, waiting for his name to be called.

*************************.

The covers seemed to be colder than the air in his bedroom. Ebeloser's heater had busted just a couple days before, and, since he had no emergency fund and was already leveraged to the hilt, he couldn't afford to call a repairman. He pulled his sheets and comforter up around his neck and flicked off the lamp. At least the electricity hadn't been cut off ... yet.

As he reclined, he felt some of the covers pulled off of him. So began the nightly tug-of-war contest with his wife, Belle. It was never fun and had taken on some added edge in recent weeks. Words and moods had been tense.

"Will you leave some covers for me? I'm freezing over here!" she said, jerking the comforter over.

She groaned and rolled over, away from him. He gave an agitated sigh and closed his eyes. Already he could tell it would take a long time to fall asleep. He lay still and stewed for a while, and, bit-by-bit, he faded away.

He wasn't sure how much time had passed before he heard a creak at the foot of the bed. He opened his eyes slowly at first, then he was jolted awake. The moonlight shone through the small gap of the curtains on the window to his left. He could see someone standing in his room! Stooge sat up, gasping with fear.

"Hello, Ebeloser ..." the figure said in a soft voice.

The story is just beginning for Ebeloser. Stay tuned for Part II.

 

[ProfMoneyWise]

A Credit Carol, Part II
A visit to the past
Dec 7, 2011 | WRITTEN BY CHRIS RUSSELL

"Who are you?" Stooge gasped.

"Someone you should listen to."

"What?" Stooge responded. He quickly glanced at his wife. She was still asleep. He decided against waking her up.

"I'm the ghost of Credit Past," the person said.

Stooge looked back at the shape, his face scrunching up in the darkness. "The what of what?"

"The ghost of Credit Past. Don't be surprised if you haven't heard of me. My friends and I have noticed that you took a wrong turn somewhere, and we want to help straighten you out."

Stooge was thoroughly rattled. Who was this guy? Who had been watching him? What did he mean by a "wrong turn"?

"What's going on here? Why are you in our house?" he demanded.

"It's sort of a long story, but don't worry. I'll explain everything. Check this out ... GO!" he barked, snapping his fingers.

Before Stooge could react, a white flash of light went off. When the light faded, he found himself standing with the strange person on his old college campus. They were in the middle of a small courtyard with orange and gold leaves peppering the ground and large dorms nearby. Young students were walking here and there. It looked to be a cloudy mid-afternoon. If Ebeloser was confused before, he was downright baffled now.

"Where in the world are we?" he asked, gazing all around him.

"You should know," the figure said. As Stooge looked back, he could see that the man looked like a small and kindly grandfather. His voice was light and friendly, and Stooge almost felt foolish for being scared of him earlier. "We're back at college."

A moment of silence as Stooge continued to soak it all in. "Ooohkayyy," he managed to get out. "What are we doing here?"

The ghost smiled, as if he had been waiting for Stooge to ask that. "I'm here to show you something."

And with that, the ghost gestured to a folding table about 10 feet away. It was set up to be a credit card stand. A big display stood behind the table, and two girls were smiling and waving at passers-by. Pamphlets and application forms sat in piles in front of them, promising a coupon for a free pizza just for signing up.

Just as Stooge was about to ask more questions, he noticed a familiar-looking boy toting a blue backpack step up to the table. He couldn't hear the small talk that the kid was making with one of the girls, but a minute later he was stooped over, his backpack on the ground, filling out an application.

"Wait," Stooge said. "That's me!"

“That's right,” the ghost said. "This is when you got your first credit card as a freshman. I guess you remember?"

Stooge was amazed. He was actually seeing himself more than 20 years ago. "Yeah," he said with a chuckle. "I do."

As he spoke, the young Stooge took his application receipt and coupon and headed off to class with a smile on his face.

"Remember what you were thinking right then?" asked the ghost.

It was amazing how clear the recollection was. "I do. My family didn't have much money growing up, and I thought that I'd finally be able to buy some stuff. I was on my own for the first time, and I could make my own decisions. It felt great getting that card in the mail a few days later," Stooge said.

"Didn't you max it out before the end of that month?"

"Yeah," Stooge admitted, casting his eyes down as if he was ashamed. "Then they raised the limit ... twice. And I maxed it out ... twice."

The ghost nodded. "Then when your dad lost his job a couple of years later, you had to take out student loans to finish school."

Again, the eyes went down. Again, the feeling of shame. "It took me 10 years to pay that off. Those were some of the hardest times of my life. I couldn't afford anything when I first got out of college."

"I noticed you didn't look too pleased right then," said the ghost, referring to Stooge's now-somber mood. "When you took on that loan and that card, you didn't think that one day you'd have to pay the piper, did you?"

Stooge slowly shook his head, now realizing that he wasn't 18 anymore. The world used to be wide open, but he was now older and his spending had caught up with him.

The ghost reached over and patted him on the shoulder. "It happens to a lot of people, son. It won't be pretty, but it's time to see where debt takes you."

"I get it. I know where it takes me," Stooge said.

"No, you don't," answered the ghost. Then he snapped his fingers—"GO!"—and everything changed.

 

[ProfMoneyWise]

A Credit Carol, Part III
Seeing what debt can do to you
Dec 8, 2011 | WRITTEN BY CHRIS RUSSELL

After the light faded, Stooge found himself standing in his living room. He exhaled, thinking it had all been a dream. But he jumped when he turned around and saw someone standing there.

It wasn't the kindly old gentleman from before. It was a woman who looked to be about Stooge's age. Her blond hair fell just below her shoulders and she wore a stern expression, like a mother who just caught her kids with their hands in the cookie jar before dinner.

"Oh ... uh, hello," Stooge said. "Who are you?"

"I'm the ghost of Credit Present," she responded bluntly, as if he was late to a meeting and she wanted to cut to the chase.

"Is ... is everything all right? You looked kind of ticked."

"ME? Noooo, I'm not ticked," she responded in a voice dripping with sarcasm. "Why should I be? I mean, YOU'RE the one who's made a mess of his money and his home life. Why should I be the one who's ticked?"

Ebeloser furrowed his brow. What did his family have to do with money being tight? And he didn't like the way this ghost was getting an attitude with him. "Now look ..." he began.

"No, YOU look," she said, cutting him off. "You've got some problems that you've been ignoring for too long, and you need to step up and fix them."

By now, Stooge could feel his pulse rising. "Look, I know money is tight. That old guy and I just talked about it! I get the message."

"Don't be too sure," the ghost said. And before Stooge could counter, he heard some angry voices coming down the hall toward them. He turned, and a couple of seconds later he saw—himself. His wife was right behind him, and they were barking at each other. Stooge quickly remembered the fight. It had been a couple of months before.

"How many times do I have to tell you," his wife blurted, "when you buy something, write it in the checkbook! It's bad enough that you eat out every day, but I looked online, and we bounced three checks yesterday!"

"Look, I forgot, all right? I mean, sue me!" Stooge shot back. "I get paid on Friday, so we'll get some money back in there soon. Don't worry about it. I've gotta go. We'll talk about this later." And with that, he grabbed a coat and walked out the front door.

As soon as the door shut, his wife slammed the checkbook on the coffee table in frustration and crumpled onto the couch, sobbing. As Stooge stood looking at her, it started to sink in that, while there had been quite a few money fights between them, he had never seen her cry over money before. Did she do that every time? He felt a twinge in his stomach and wanted to leave. The ghost seemed to sense this.

"We aren't finished yet," she said, her voice still stern but cracking.

Just then, the phone rang. Stooge's wife quickly wiped away a tear and tried to compose herself as she picked it up. "Hello?" she said.

Stooge couldn't hear the voice on the other end, but it was just a few seconds later before the sobbing started again. Numerous times she tried to tell the person that they will pay them as soon as they can, but money is tight right now. Each time she was cut short. Each time, she began crying harder. Finally, she hung up the phone.

Stooge looked back at the ghost. "Was that a collector?"

She nodded. "It's not just your bank account that gets put through the ringer here. She's tried to talk to you about money before, right?"

He stared at Belle for a few seconds, knowing the answer but not wanting to say it. Finally he nodded.

"And?"

"And I kept telling her not to worry about it."

A few seconds went by. The silence was broken only by the weeping.

"If you handle money poorly, it will mess up a bunch of other areas in your life," the ghost said. "This is an example of how it can be worse than you think. And this isn't even as bad as it can get."

The phone rang again. Stooge had taken some collector calls in the past, so he figured it was the same guy calling back. His wife continued sobbing and for the first time he realized how much it hurt to see her like this. He wanted to go over to her, but he couldn't for some reason. All he could do was watch in disgust.

Finally Stooge said, "I don't want to see anymore."

"Well, you're going to ... so hold on for the ride, buddy!" she said. She snapped her fingers, and it all changed in a white flash again.

 

[ProfMoneyWise]

A Credit Carol, Part IV
Stop using debt before it goes too far
Dec 9, 2011 | WRITTEN BY CHRIS RUSSELL

It took a minute to get his bearings.

The air was chilly and light, the weather gray. Multicolored leaves littered the brown grass, making it seem like late fall. Stooge shook his head to clear the cobwebs. He turned and said, "Where are ..."

He stopped, taken aback. The woman standing next to him was gone–replaced with yet another person who was just downright scary. The figure must have been eight feet tall, wearing jeans and a black hoodie sweatshirt. He wore work gloves on his hands and the hood was pulled over his head. The weirdest part was that the shadow created by the hood completely obscured his face.

"Lemme guess," Stooge said, making a weak attempt to cover his fright with a sarcastic tone. "The ghost of Credit Future?"

The shape nodded slowly.

"So ... whatcha got for me now?"

The shape raised a long, stringy arm and pointed over Stooge's head, behind him. Just then, a voice shouted, "Sold!"

Stooge looked and gasped. He was outside his townhouse, which didn't shock him. What did was the man in the suit slamming a gavel down. He was on a small podium surrounded by a dozen people in the front yard. A white sign near the sidewalk had "Foreclosure Sale" written in green, and some smaller printing under it that Stooge couldn’t read. Right then, a middle-aged couple grasped each other in a happy hug.

Stooge gasped. They had just bought his foreclosed house. He shot a stunned look at the ghost, who merely stood there with his arms at his sides. Unmoving and unmoved. Stooge looked back at the crowd, now dispersing. As a woman in a business suit walked away, she strolled passed an older man that Stooge hadn't seen at first.

His arms were folded and his left hand covered his mouth in disbelief. His salt-and-pepper hair was cut short and he wore a long black overcoat. He had an aura of shame about him. As he gazed closer, Stooge realized–the man was an older version of himself!

A thousand questions started whirling through his head. Is this how he ends up? When will it happen? Can he stop it? He turned and asked the ghost, but the ghost gave no reaction. He stared at Stooge from behind his hood, and after a few seconds he simply pointed back to older Stooge, who reached up with his left hand to wipe away a tear. As he did, younger Stooge noticed that he wasn't wearing his wedding band.

It was too much. Stooge knew the pain was tied to how he had behaved with money. It hadn’t been the death of him, but it had certainly sucked away his life. His marriage was over, the "stuff" that he thought was so important was now not only meaningless, but gone. He covered his face and fought back tears. He found himself repeating, "I wish I could do it over again, I wish I could do it over again ..."

Suddenly he became very sleepy. He tried to open his eyes but found the light hurting them. His knees started to buckle and, before he could catch himself, he stumbled backward.

Then he fell, and felt a huge jolt right before he hit the ground.

 

[ProfMoneyWise]

A Credit Carol, Part V
Putting a bow on the whole story
Dec 12, 2011 | WRITTEN BY CHRIS RUSSELL

Stooge found himself sitting bolt upright in bed. He could feel some sweat on his face, and he was short of breath. He was disoriented and scared and fought to just sit still for a minute. His stomach was in knots that slowly began to unwind.

As he calmed down, he realized he was back in his room. In his house. It hadn't been foreclosed. He looked beside him and saw his wife. She was still there and, even though she was only sleeping, he felt a rush of emotion just looking at her. Their marriage hadn't ended. They were still together. A smile burst onto his face.

He looked to his left and noticed a crack of sunshine seeping through the curtains. He got up and opened them, flooding the room with light. Outside the ground was frosty and brown. There were no people in the yard waiting to bid on the house.

His world hadn't come crashing down. And he was determined to keep it that way.

"Honey," his wife said sleepily from the bed. "Can you shut the drapes please?"

A feeling of elation shot through Stooge as he jumped back into bed. He leaned over, hugged his wife, and kissed her with more enthusiasm than he'd had in years. It caused her sleepiness to vanish and confusion took its place. She looked at him sitting on the bed, beaming, almost unable to contain himself.

"Who are you, and what have you done with my husband?" she asked.

His words were unforced. He couldn't wait to get them out, to start making things right.

"Belle, I'm sorry for the way I've been acting. I haven't been handling money well and, even worse, I haven't been listening to you. I have really messed things up, but I want to make up for it."

Belle was literally stunned into silence. She had tried for years to talk to her husband about money with very little response, and literally overnight he had become more excited about fixing their money situation than she was.

They spent the next hour or so just sitting in bed and talking about what they wanted–with their money, in life, from each other. Stooge remarked about how it's amazing how much healing can take place just from conversation.

Over breakfast, Stooge talked about his dream and they made their first budget. All the bills and past-due notices were laid out on the table. It was ugly, as they knew it would be, but they were so excited about righting their financial ship that they didn't care. Hope had taken over. Despair was out the door. They even took a collector call and giggled to each other as he made his empty threats. When they hung up, they took it as inspiration to cut up every last one of their credit cards.

The rest of the day was spent going through the house looking for stuff to sell. When they were done, it seemed like they had gained 200 square feet. Everything was posted for sale online by late afternoon, and they even got a few calls before going to bed that night.

Stooge told Belle about some guy named Dave Ramsey and his membership website that he had heard about from a co-worker, and they signed up for it. They knew it would give them the guidance and inspiration they needed to keep going.

As Stooge lay in bed that night gazing at the dark ceiling, he thought about how many years he had spent being bitter at life. He wished it hadn't happened that way, but he was thrilled that he and his wife had the chance to write themselves a new ending.

He leaned over to give Belle, who was already asleep, a good-night kiss. "Merry Christmas, honey," he whispered. "And to us, a good night."