THE VIRGINIAN-PILOT
Copyright (c) 1995, Landmark Communications, Inc.
DATE: Friday, February 17, 1995 TAG: 9502150196
SECTION: VIRGINIA BEACH BEACON PAGE: 07 EDITION: FINAL
TYPE: Over Easy
SOURCE: Jo-Ann Clegg
LENGTH: Medium: 87 lines
There is nothing that makes you face reality faster than getting year-end summaries of everything you've charged on your credit card.
Absolutely nothing.
Years ago I used to charge at will, figuring that once the bill came in and was paid I'd never have to face up to my spending indiscretions again.
Then about five years ago one of our credit card companies started sending us a yearly print out of all of our charges.
Since that was the card I used primarily for business expenses, I could generally justify every expenditure. Occasionally, I had to stretch the point a little bit, but usually Bill would accept my explanations without too much questioning.
When he did go into his IRS agent mode and ask questions like ``What's this $20 lunch at the Kings Arms Tavern?'' I'd be prepared with what seemed to me to be a reasonable response.
``I was working in Williamsburg that day,'' I'd explain, ``and I figured I needed some local color to add to the story.''
He'd grumble something about finding local color for $2.99 plus tax at McDonald's or Wendy's, then move on to the next item.
Which usually had something to do with my penchant for buying office supplies, especially the electronic kind that had bells, whistles and squeaks attached.
``What's a screen saver and how come it costs $40?'' he asked as he checked last year's summary.
``A screen saver,'' I explained patiently, ``is something that keeps the image from burning a hole in my computer screen. And the one I bought cost $40 because I had to have Goofy, Donald and Mickey on it. Or in it. Or wherever it is that screen savers store their stuff.''
``Had to or wanted to?'' Bill asked. ``Why does anyone have to have their own parade of Disney characters?''
I tried to convince him that because I couldn't afford to see every Disney cartoon that came to town when I was a kid I suffered from DDS - Disney Deprivation Syndrome.
Bill doesn't buy into syndromes. If he had never accepted PMS as an excuse for my erratic behavior, I had no reason to believe that he'd accept DDS.
He didn't. We continued to move through the computer printout item by item with me pleading my case and him grudgingly accepting my explanations.
That, however, was only a warm-up for what happened when our other credit card company - the one to which the bulk of our income goes after making a very brief stop in our checking account - started sending year-end statements.
``Who are these guys Rudy and Kelly and why are we supporting their families or what?'' he yelled on first reading.
``Rudy and Kelly are to me what the groomer is to Charlie and if you'll take notice, we only spent about half as much on my hair as we did on Charlie's last year.''
``Yeah, but he has four times as much as you do,'' Bill said, without missing a beat.
And so it went through the restaurant charges, the car repair charges, the hotel bills, the flower shops, the dress shops and the department stores.
Some I could explain away, some I couldn't.
``Why are we buying these? Charlie has enough for everybody!'' Bill roared as he pointed to a charge from a place called the Ultimate Flea Co.
``I didn't buy fleas, I bought some collectibles. That was a really big flea market I came across when I was out on a story,'' I told him.
``Flea markets are places where good ole boys from Carolina sell the stuff that they found when they cleaned out the barn. That and the crocheted doo-dads that their mommas made,'' Bill said. ``Since when did they start taking credit cards?''
``Since barn junk and homemade crafts became really big business,'' I told him.
He grumbled a bit, because it was expected, then moved on through the rest of the printout.
Along about Nov. 10 last year our credit card bills sky-rocketed. That's when the hotel and restaurant bills from inside the Beltway started pouring in along with the charges to Amtrak, the Knitting Corner, the Honey Tree, Toys R Us and the Baby Superstore.
Bill said never a word about any of these.
When it comes to costs associated with the arrival of our first grandchild, the man has no questions whatsoever.
I guarantee you that Alexander will never suffer from any kind of Deprivation Syndrome - Disney or otherwise - so long as his grandma is doing the charging and his grandpa is paying the bills. by CNB