Can I borrow $5?

When I first graduated from college I was 20 years old, I moved to downtown Seattle, into a 300 square foot studio apartment. If I ran the toaster, it had to be with all the lights off, or I would flip the only breaker I had. Ditto on the hair dryer. The only windows looked directly at high wood fences. The front door opened directly into a parking garage. This was 2001. I had a monthly income of $1,500. A rent of $525, student loan payment of $262, credit card payment of $150 and a monthly bus pass expense of $40. I still remember those numbers as clear as day.

I lived 6 blocks from the nearest bus stop. In the morning, I’d walk down to the main road, stop at Tully’s and get a cup of coffee before I got on my 90 minute bus commute. (My apartment wouldn’t run a coffee maker either). There was always someone who wanted to talk to me. Early morning bus commuters and the homeless are a friendly lot in that neighborhood.

Once someone asked to borrow $5 for a morning coffee. Why would I loan money to someone from the bus stop? The chances are slim to none that I’d get my money back and coffee is hardly a necessity. Especially when it’s only $0.99 at the 7-11 across Market Street.

I don’t remember if I gave the person $5 or not, but I got on the bus and thought about that strange interaction. Then I realized, that I myself, had swiped a credit card for my latte.

I borrowed money for coffee from a stranger. It’s a sad statement on my character that I had to judge someone else before observing my own wrongdoing, but I’d been a customer of credit for three years before I’d even noticed myself using it.

That week I started on a number of misguided attempts to learn about financial responsibility. I enrolled in some online classes about investing (yes, when I was broke) I’d been taught that it is wise to invest young. I took a class about budgeting, in which I really learned nothing—I already knew my monthly expenses. I read the information about my college loans that had just come into payment status and discovered I could move them from a five year repayment to a ten year repayment, which would improve my cash-flow by lowering my payment to $110. (But I didn’t invest with the extra money, I just had a little more wiggle room for non-coffee food).

I tried watching what other “responsible” people did in my social circle. But the problem with learning in social circles is that usually we were out spending money being social.

I paid attention to the lessons that my parents taught me, but they had educated themselves on loans, and built their businesses with credit—it was just a way of life. I didn’t notice the differences—like the fact that I had no reason to need a credit card. I wasn’t carrying inventory of waiting on receivables. My income didn’t fluctuate from month to month either. Likewise, I wasn’t trying to educate myself while raising children. It was just me. I could have worked three jobs and nobody would have minded.

It took me eight years to resolve to live without credit or debt. There was more financial floundering around—mostly due to lack of a plan. I mistakenly taught my husband that “credit is a tool” and he reluctantly believed me.

But looking back, the first time I was aware of my misuse of credit was the one stranger who wanted to borrow money for coffee. Ultimately, what led me from questioning my use of credit to wholesale change in ways, was having a critically ill child and a job loss at the same time. We realized we had to ensure we’d never be in that position again, and somehow we came to the conclusion that living without debt would be the key. (Likely adding all of our debt payments in the budget).

I’m curious: did you have two turning points in your journey like I did? One where you began questioning, and one where you ultimately changed? What was the time difference? (For me, it was eight years—which encompassed my marriage and our adoption of our two daughters)