Next time, just stroll in there with a thick wad of cash. Then when they refuse service, just plunk it down on the counter in front of them and ask them if it will do.

What I find interesting is the almost mandatory need for a credit card these days. I don;t have one. I haven’t had one for almost 20 years. I paid off what I owed on the cards that I had, and went to a cash-only life. It’s been wonderful for the most part. I can pay most bills online, and those that I can’t I can either pay in person or with a money order. The cost(s) of the money order(s) are less than the credit card company would charge me in interest, including postage.

What kills me, though, is that I now find that places are starting to demand a credit card in order to use their services. Car rentals, airlines, hotels, etc. Now, I have a PayPal account and can use that for somethings, but geezum… why the reliance on Credit Cards? Why should I have to pay a third party for the right to use another party’s services?

Anyway, I broke down and applied for a credit card… and got turned down. Seems I don’t have any credit history. I apparently do not have any BAD credit, I just don’t have ANY credit because I haven’t owed anybody anything for lo these many years. I find myself in a position, at this stage of my life, of having to prove my worth to some slack-jawed cheeto-eating numbers puke in a faraway place just to have the privilege of making a reservation at a hotel.

In fact, one major hotel chain wouldn’t even let me check in without a credit card. I don’t get it. I’ve paid my bills, done the right thing, but apparently I haven’t been living above my means enough to qualify as “credit-worthy”.

Ah well. Seems like I’ll be staying at the local KOA next time, because I am NOT going to play that credit-card game anymore.

Someone used the credit cards and eventually got grabbed up by the store security guards. Numerous charges for lingerie, perfume, and other such articles that were consumables for the young ladies in his … employ. Or is the correct description of his status that of an agent for independent contractors? Sure, that’s probably how he structured his occupation for tax purposes.

I was called and asked if I’d testify, as the spendthrift was claiming that I’d given him my credit card. “Sure!” I said and hied myself off to 26th and California. I spent an educational couple of hours there listening to the screaming from the holding cell behind the bench and the rather fantastic stories in front of it while various miscreants were brought forth. The subject of my interest was duly brought forth. His counsel took one look at me and asked for a continuance, which was granted. I was whisked off by a Chicago cop (perhaps too delicate a word for the process) and brought to a side room. There two cops and an assistant D.A. introduced themselves and started telling me that there would be another appearance and how important it would be for me to show up at the next hearing, because if I didn’t the case would be dismissed.

Countenances brightened considerably when I said “Hell, I’m a grad student in Biochemistry a couple of miles from here with my own car. I can get out anytime you want. I wouldn’t miss this for the world!”

It turned out that I, a grungy grad student with hair down to my shoulders, was now considered by the Chicago Police a pillar of society and the salt of the earth. The D.A. then said “Now, we can’t tell you anything about his background that’s all here in this folder. That would be predjudicial. So don’t look in it.” Then one of the cops said “Hey, we’ve got a problem out here and we need you [meaning the D.A.] out here too!” Off they run, leaving the folder out on the bench and me completely unsupervised.

I know a cue when I hear one. A perusal of the paperwork revealed that apparently “profiting from the proceeds of prostitution” is the legal description of a pimp, and such a person also might well be engaged in breaking and entering and battery. This had the desired effect, so the next time I was in court with plenty of time to spare. Once again the offender was hauled in. Once again I got the fishy eye from his counsel. Mention was apparently made of my student status, and just as I was headed up to give my story a deal was struck. Justice at it’s finest. I was once again thanked profusely and strolled out of the building proud to have struck a blow for civic order and the right to take a dump without having to grope for your wallet.

Lost my wallet on a military transport once. Weeks later a maintenance chief showed up in my doorway with the wallet. It cost me a case of booze to get my leather-wrapped wad of newly cancelled credit cards back. Like you, the trip to DOT hadn’t happened yet. Embarrassing!