I remember a day some years back on one of the first days of a new semester in college. People were tossing balls, passing out catalogs, and handing out free stuff. I was completely charmed by all the activity. After all, a major feature of college life is limited finances. Free stuff is like gold and I felt entitled to my share!

I moved closer to scout out the situation. In my mind, I heard my mother issue her famous line: "There is no such thing as free stuff!", as the student behind the table urged me to receive a brand-new dictionary. My mom's voice was quickly filtered out as I reached out to claim my gift. I was handed a form instead. Once I completed the credit card application, I was told, I would receive a free dictionary. With the confidence that a probe of my finances would reveal the sheer weakness of my profile, I completed the form and submitted it.

To my sheer amazement, plastic freedom made its way into my mailbox a few weeks later. At first, I was shocked that these huge credit card corporations trusted me, a struggling student holding two minimum wage part-time jobs and paying monthly installments on a purchased computer. But the credit card company seemed to know more than I did, so I accepted the card and decided it was perfect to develop my own credit like so many had done before me.

My first purchases were tame: a T-shirt, vitamins, or a CD as if I hadn't had the card. Soon, however, I began to buy things that I wanted. With my artificial sense of security, I bought a guitar, a fishing rod and a hunting rifle, long-stem roses for my girlfriend, a brand-new wardrobe, a sophisticated new calculator, and countless other trifles I felt I "absolutely needed". I began to accumulate debt.