Welcome back to CoPFB! In my last post, I detailed how I found myself with $1 to my name. Even after years have passed, I still remember that day as if it were yesterday–I remember walking the last walk through the parking garage to my car (feeling ill), I remember mindlessly navigating myself to the nearest ATM (running a red light in the process), and I remember the pit-in-my-stomach feeling when I realized that I wouldn’t be able to pay my rent.
I had two weeks until the 1st of the month, no job, and no money. As I walked back to my car, I found myself thinking about the piles of mail I had woefully neglected for quite some time. Then it hit me: credit cards send you those convenience checks where you can just write them out and have the cash you need. Eureka; I could pay my rent!!
I hopped in my car, sped home, and tore through the envelopes. I wildly threw the papers everywhere, searching only for the glorious checks that Citibank had sent me time and time again. At last, I found a set. I held it up, beaming; proud of myself for figuring out some way to get out of this mess. I ran out of my apartment and headed to the nearest Wells Fargo.
As I stood nervously in line, I ignored all of the feelings and instincts screaming at me that this wasn’t a good idea. But as the next available teller smiled and asked me how he could help, I timidly set the checks–hands trembling–on the counter and squeaked that I’d like to write one out for cash. His response? He laughed at me!
Apparently, the type of check I was trying to use as a cash advance was only good for balance transfers. Furthermore, with the amount of credit card debt I was carrying (about $13K at the time), there was no way my available credit could accommodate the cash advance, associated fees, and immediate interest. Essentially, I had nothing but a piece of useless paper in my hands.
Flaming red in the face and eyes brimming with tears, I high-tailed it out of there. I spent the next 20 minutes sitting in my car crying, wondering what to do. Here I was, a bright (4.0 student in college!), educated, motivated woman with no money, no credit, no job, and soon, no place to live. As I contemplated the very few options left for my situation, I made the hardest financial decision I had made up until this point in my life: I called my landlord and told her that I wouldn’t be able to pay the rent next month.
Then I drove home and began packing my things because while I may not have had any money, I still had my moral compass pointing due-North. In good conscience, there was no way I could stay in a place where I wouldn’t be able to pay the rent.
In two weeks, I would officially become homeless
This post is part of my Confessions of a PF Blogger series. Other posts include:
- Confessions of a PF Blogger: The Series
- Confessions of a PF Blogger: No Happy Meal for You
- Confessions of a PF Blogger: $0.25 per Quart
- Confessions of a PF Blogger: 16 Candles
- Confessions of a PF Blogger: $5,500 in Cash
- Confessions of a PF Blogger: A Slow Slide into Credit Card Debt Hell
- Confessions of a PF Blogger: $1 to My Name
- Confessions of a PF Blogger: Homeless
- Confessions of a PF Blogger: Powerless
- Confessions of a PF Blogger: A Second Chance
