By Laughs by Teresa
Image Credit: Google Gemini
For years, I was a financial deity. I didn’t just have “Good” credit. I had an 843.
In the world of FICO, an 843 is a majestic, mythical beast. It’s the kind of score that makes mortgage brokers weep tears of joy and credit card companies send you “Pre-Approved” letters that smell of rich mahogany and success. I was so reliable, I’m pretty sure the Credit Bureau used my photo as the screensaver for their “Model Citizen” award.
I never missed a payment. I was the personification of stability.
The “Irony” of the Safety Net
Then, life decided to play a joke. I hit a rough patch—the kind involving health issues that no medical insurance in the history of medicine covers 100%.
You’d think that after a lifetime of maintaining an 843—literally proving for decades that I am a person of my word—the banks would say, “Hey, you’ve been our MVP for 20 years, let us help you out while you navigate these medical bills.” LOL. No.
The moment I actually needed the credit I had spent my entire adult life building, the banks turned into that one “friend” who disappears as soon as it’s their turn to buy a round of drinks.
The 843 Freefall
I missed a couple of payments while navigating the black hole of co-pays and deductibles. I figured the system would see my track record and give me a “loyalty” pass.
Wrong. The Credit Bureau does not have a heart; it has an algorithm that feeds on human irony.
I watched my score drop faster than a lead balloon in a vacuum. I didn’t just drop to “Good.” I skipped “Fair” entirely. I did a parkour move from the 800s straight into “Very Poor.” It took me a lifetime to climb to an 843, and it took two medical bills and a “missed” notification to throw me off the cliff.
Life in the Basement
Now, I’m a financial pariah. The same banks that used to stuff my mailbox with “Black Card” offers now act like I’m trying to pay them in Monopoly money and pocket lint.
- The 843-Me: “I’d like a mortgage with a 2% interest rate, please.”
- The Bank: “Certainly, Your Majesty. Would you like a complimentary pen and a foot massage while we process your zero-down-payment loan?”
- The Current-Me: “Can I get a credit card to help cover this medical co-pay?”
- The Bank: “We’re going to need your firstborn child as collateral and a 29.9% interest rate. Also, please don’t touch the glass on your way out.”
The Moral of the Story
Credit is like an umbrella: the bank is happy to lend it to you when the sun is shining, but the second it starts raining, they want it back immediately—and they want you to pay a “wetness fee” for the privilege.
If you’re currently in the 800 club, enjoy the view. And if you’re down here in the basement with me? Well, at least we don’t have to worry about maintaining a perfect 843 anymore. The air is thinner down here, but the jokes are better.
The Fun Doesn’t Stop Here!
Your daily dose of digital delight continues below!
- The Final Insult: The Vanishing Act 💸➡️Now that the banks have officially ghosted me and my 843 score is a distant memory, I’ve had to rely entirely on my paycheck. And let me tell you, that’s a whole different kind of comedy. If you think the Credit Bureau is a thief, wait until you see the “magic trick” my paycheck performs every two weeks. It’s a tragic comedy in two acts, and spoiler alert: the money doesn’t stay in my wallet long enough to get comfortable. Read the next chapter of the struggle: 👉The Myth of the Magnificent Paycheck
- Before life decided to throw me a medical curveball and turn my 843 credit score into a “financial cautionary tale,” I was playing the great American game: The Quest for the Almighty Point. I was the one sipping the “free” cocktails and dreaming of business class, blissfully unaware that the house always wins.
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