Your Name Here

As I sit here at what the IRS loving refers to as my "job" and I refer to as "that place I go to everyday where they suck the living soul out of you" (and simmer down, 'tweens, not Forks (as an aside, is that still a relevant reference? I never know anymore)) I look over to my right and see a little gold spark of inspiration. It seems the silliest little thing in the world but it brought me back from the brink of financial ruin (well, not RUIN, per se, but unable to finance myself out of a paper bag with directions, two hands and a flashlight).

On a day like today I'm needing a little inspiration and as I stare at this little gold miracle I have dreamlanded myself into the back story that I'm about to share with you now.

What could this mystery talisman be? A magnet. Yep. That thing that goes on the fridge that keeps your grocery list and next dental appointments all snug & secure and in your face.

This one came from my friends at American Express. Only they weren't really my friends (refer back to paper bag statement noted above). It came addressed to me in an envelope and it FELT like a credit card was inside – you all know the little jolt of excitement you feel when you touch the bottom corner of the envelope…maybe? Just MAYBE some company was feeling generous that day and sent you a card you didn't apply for? Maybe you got lucky? Maybe whatever, who cares as long as there's a card inside with your name on it?

I quickly tear open the envelope and pull out the coveted prize…and it was this magnet. The American Express Gold Card. Looked just like it. With a number on it and everything! Oh Happy Day!! And I looked at the bottom left corner and it said "Your Name Here". Sigh. What the hell? Like THAT was ever going to happen.

Flashback a decade or two earlier.

My hair was bigger, body parts where they should be, not where they've fallen to, optimism written all over my soul and hope all over my face. My Dad had an American Express Gold Card and because my dad rocks totally, *I* had an American Express Gold card. With My Name There. And then one sad, sad, probably rainy, winter day Dad decided that he no longer wanted to pay the $50 annual fee (Gee, that really WAS a long time ago!) (I KNOW!! Right??) and he decided he was going to cancel his card. Which meant my card too. Which so totally sucked (again, I refer you back to the paper bag reference above). What was I going to do? No credit and no hope of credit until I cleared up my previously debauched, college-days-abused and discarded credit of my youth. F-U-C-K!!!!!!!!!

Flashforward to me, looking dejectedly at this magnet that had the audacity to mock me in my own living room. I couldn't even get a secured $250 credit card from Bank You Up The Ass. I laughed at this Holy Grail totem of that once possessed, but now lost, treasure. And I tossed it in the trash. I opened the rest of my mail and it, too, went the way of the circular file. And I sat on the sofa. And sat. And moped a bit – no lie – but I mostly just sat.

And I got up, and went into the trash ("Ew! Gross!" – the recycling – relax) and I pulled that damn magnet out and brushed it off and brought it here with me to work. And I put it in a place where I had to see it every single day. And I made one of those dorky "After School Special" promises to myself that one day – ONE DAY – My Name would be Here. I cringed & ordered a copy of my credit report and barely peeked at it before I cried. LOL! HORRIBLE!!!! But I chipped at it one little piece at a time and by God, six years later, it came in the mail.

The real one. With My Name Here.

So I have to remember as I wallow in despair at nearly closing time that with enough patience and enough determination and SOMETHING to inspire you, we can get out of whatever shithole we've dug ourselves into. We just have to figure out what that is. Sometimes you'll know it instinctively and sometimes it will come to you out of the blue, in the mail, daring you to be.

Where does your name belong?