If I Sent Only The Minimum Payment
Thirty-six years, it says. My current balance would take six-and-thirty years to settle should I decide to send $22 every thirty days. That assumes I never use the card again for what, in reality, would be the rest of my life. The chances of my living to 104 are slim; slimmer than my desire to actually be there.
Fortunately, I don’t spend more in any given month than I can pay off when the Bank of America sends me a note. This time, it’s a big hit, as I am making the final payment on my upcoming cruise. Normally, it’s just a two- or three-figure amount that I can cover by collecting deposit bottles.
This time, it’s more than shaking down grammar-school kids’ lunch money. I’ve had to keep this in mind for months ahead, put it on my desk calendar and keep in touch with my travel agent. No surprises, no gasps of horror, no asking friends for short-term loans. I’m all set, I’m happy and tomorrow (when I write the check), VISA will be.
Speaking of which, I just booked for next year and my deposit will be showing up on next month’s statement, if not that of the following. Holland America Line should be knowing me on a first-name basis at this point. VISA and Bank of America just consider me nothing more than another 16-digit number.