Devil's Name Card

I'm sure everyone (my age and above) has a devil's name card. Oh... don't you know what's that? It's there at your wallet tempting you to whip it out every time you try to talk yourself out of buying something.

YES! You're right. A devil's name card is a card that makes you lose your common senses. It's a card that makes words like "discipline" and "willpower" sound like a joke. It's a card that makes you think you are invincible. It's a card that brings you guilt. It's a card with the word VISA or MASTERCARD on it.

The higher the limit, the higher ranking the devil is. Yup... you're right. Platinum card? That's the name card for the CEO of Hell. I'm still at the rookie stage. Thank God for small favours.

Dangerous as it may seem, it has also become a staple in life. With everything so expensive nowadays, you need it to survive. To tide you over until your next paycheck. I'm talking about people who actually have to work their butt off to pay their bills. Not those who has a silver spoon stuck up their ass when they were born. (If you are one of those silver spoon type, please close this window right now.)

So, anyway... I've always loved reading the Shopaholic series by Sophie Kinsella, because I actually feel her. I feel her pain, her puzzlement and her panic when she looks at her Credit Card statement every month. It is a horrifying experience. I feel like a I need therapy every time I look at them.

It's a sign! It's a sign that you are a grown up. A grown up who is supposed to be able to manage your money wisely (HAH! Yeah, right!).

I see a very bleak future with my addiction and my obsession with my devil's name cards. So, the moral of the story? You know it's evil, but you still love it.

* Iris accidentally on purpose drops her credit card statements into the drain. Oops... *
* Iris hides her credit cards secretly and scurries off to the next sale. *

My favourite daydream put into word by Sophie Kinsella, in The Secret Dreamworld of a Shopaholic:

I stare at the statement in puzzlement, wrinkling my brow and trying to think - and then suddenly, the truth dawns on me. It's obvious. Someone else has been using my card.

Oh my God. I, Rebecca Bloomwood, have been the victim of a crime.

Now it all makes sense. Some criminal's pinched my credit card and forged my signature. Who knows where else they've used it? No wonder my statement's so black with figures! Someone's gone on a spending spree round London with my card - and they thought they would just get away with it.

But how have they managed it? I scrabble in my bag for my purse, open it - and there's my VISA card, staring up at me. I take it out and gaze at it. Someone must have pinched it from my purse, used it – and then put it back. It must be someone I know. Oh my God. Who?

I look suspiciously round the office. Whoever it is, isn't very bright. Using my card at Millets! It's almost laughable. As if I'd ever shop there.

'I've never even been into Millets!' I say aloud.

'Yes you have,' says Clare.

'What?' I turn to her, not particularly pleased to be interrupted. 'No I haven,t.'

'You bought Michael's leaving present from Millets, didn't you?'

I stare at her and feel my smile disappear. Oh bugger.