My First Visa

If you truly understand how hard it is to get your life back on track after 10 years in federal prison, then you should have a fair estimate of how great I felt when I got my first VISA card. Most people have no idea how gratifying that one piece of plastic can be. Well for me it was a dream comes true

All my life, I have been a big fan of mythology which had evolved from my childhood love of fairytales, so I imagine it was a safe bet that I would be intimately drawn to the Capital One TV commercials, especially the one with the princess kissing a frog in the hopes of transforming it into a prince. Though she was utterly unsuccessful, the allure of this commercial, as well as the others from Capital One, made me bold enough to make the prediction that one day a VISA would be in my wallet.

Just like the princess in the commercial, I had a lot to worry about. For starters, everyone in prison compiles a long laundry list of dreams that they magically intend to fashion into reality. We feel so confident in our ability to turn stones into bread that we basically forget to invent plausible plans for our goals. Not me. I wasn’t blindly accepting that fate would be kind too me. Not this time.

Actually having some idea that opportunity doesn’t knock on doors in the “hood that often, I chose to put together a winning strategy to make me more appealing. (You know, more like a prince, less like a frog). I got a job. I assumed that a job, although not a magic formula in itself, would be one way of making me look good. I also opened an account with a bank, and using the time-honored method of working, saving money, and staying out of trouble, I felt reasonably lucky. Shortly thereafter I chose a few of the favorite credit card companies and I applied.

Like clockwork, I was turned down. 60 seconds doesn’t give you much time to either hope or to pray, but it was more than enough time evidently to determine my credit unworthiness. I must be honest; there was just no way around my disappointment.

What these credit analysts and money mangers had no way of knowing was that my “word is bond”. In prison, all you have is your word, and on the inside nothing is more vitally important than your “word being good”. It’s a point of distinction that prisoners guard fiercely. Once they make a promise—-they keep it! No ifs, ands, or buts about it. So despite everything else I may have lacked on paper, I possessed the one sterling quality that would definitely assure that I was worthy: My word. I pay my debts. Always.

And just when I was ready to chalk my “credit experiment” up as a loss, my Capital One VISA card arrived in the mail. I had been pre-approved. Oops, I thought, this can’t be.

I hadn’t been financially interrogated or economically humiliated. Instead, I was treated like a person deserving of a chance. I appreciate that grant. I will not abuse it. I will cherish it and live up to my financial expectations, soar beyond them all the while remaining true to the prison code even though I’m free. I will never tarnish my word!