Chope: Livin' On Credit

The ubiquity of the little plastic cards cannot be denied. In shopping malls, you won't find medicine men peddling their wares, nor salesmen selling office stationery and children's books. What you will find, however, is a new form of annoyance: credit card sales people. Interest-free this, 0% that, best friends for life and popularity with the opposite sex—brand X credit card is the answer to all your problems.

With such an enticing message, yuppies like myself can't resist. Those barely making ends meet (but earning enough to be granted approval), can't either. A credit card is license to spend money you don't have, which really, is much better than a license to kill. After all, what's James Bond without a nice car and an even nicer suit? A glorified Special Branch officer.

What's more, the more you spend, the more free stuff you get. And sometimes, you get discounts, just for not paying with your own money. What a concept. Loan sharks? That's so low class. Us middle class have cards featuring our favourite music TV channel station instead. Of course, anyone with real class would probably carry cash around in a briefcase like they do in gangster movies. Now that's real money.

A year ago, there were 8.03 million credit cards in Malaysia, with usage amounting to RM10.9 billion. The figures have probably gone up since then. At the same time, outstanding balances for credit cards have been growing in double digits the past few years. It's probably safe to assume that most of that comes from us urban folk. I really doubt that credit cards are commonly used in a pasar tani in Kuala Selangor.

Unless everyone around me was making much more than I am—certainly not outside the realm of possibility—I didn't quite understand how some people sustain a lifestyle involving coffee chains, fancy restaurants, the latest iPod, open bottle at Zouk, holidays in the sun and shopping for really fancy clothing. Sure, I indulge myself from time to time, but I quickly realised that it's a lifestyle that's harder to sustain than a business selling burgers outside a public toilet.

Then I discovered the joys of credit cards. It was like discovering girls for the first time. A little too similar in fact—my applications were rejected repeatedly. But once in, I was hooked. No longer did I have to accept the reality that a double boca choca chino blended drink is way too expensive to be consumed regularly. And that affordable labels from the US and Europe are anything but that when they reach here. Or the fact that that everyday is a fun day restaurant is probably more sensible once a month. Face it, most of us make enough to have nasi campur for lunch, not champagne for brunch.

KL is no doubt a relatively affordable city to live in—if you're content with little more than the basics. But it's also a city where an original music CD is worth about nearly 10 hours of work (say, in retail or in the service industry) and a book several hours more. Where a beer in a bar is equivalent to the price of lunch for three people in a gerai. Or a decent computer costs at least two to three months worth of a uni grad's paycheck. But living on credit makes us pretend that all of that isn't true.

Until, that is, the debt becomes virtually insurmountable. Thankfully, credit card companies have yet to resort to Ah Long-style tactics to deal with defaulters. If they did, I'm sure many of us would have had red paint poured all over our front lawns. But what happens when this fantasy life is over? The hangover comes in. After taking my credit to the limit, I've since learned to keep those plastic cards at home. To consider coffee costing more than RM10 ridiculous, not a necessity. To make being debt-free a bigger priority than a Bluetooth handsfree. And I've successfully kicked the habit. Living within my means isn't so bad after all.

Brian Yap has mastered the art of avoiding credit card salespeople. E-mail him at brian@freeform.com.my to find out how.