No Extra Credit.

• Author: Ehrenreich, Barbara
• Position: Actions companies will take to make money, including financial services companies - Column

I was in a tabloid-induced fugue state at the supermarket checkout counter, musing about whether Linda Tripp could have killed JonBenet, when my credit card problems began. "Your Visa's been declined," the cashier announced, giving me a wary once-over. I had imagined I looked like a yuppie fresh from the gym, but with Visa disowning me the impression was undoubtedly more of a fugitive on her way from the state pen.

"Impossible," I blustered. "I always pay them in full and precisely on time each month." Too bad: no turkey cutlets, Formula 409, or Glad Wrap for me that day.

I have always tried to get along with the capitalist system, or "late" capitalist system, as the theorists optimistically describe it. In my day-to-day transactions, I take the render-unto-Caesar approach, as inculcated long ago by my parents: Work hard, pay bills, change underwear daily. Those are the rules I live by. It's been decades--well, years anyway--since I've had to turn off the phone at night to avoid the collection agencies. The only utopian aspect of my financial life is Working Assets, which handles my long distance calls, my individual retirement account, and, yes, the very Visa card under discussion. My hope has always been that, by letting Working Assets serve as a go-between between me and the ruthless capitalist system, I would be helping to bring about something very different--kinder, gentler, and with lower interest rates.

But following the rules doesn't do you any good if the rules keep changing. The credit card companies, in particular, are well known to be a fickle, emotionally labile lot. When they're in a good mood, they ply you with ever-escalating credit limits, frequent-flier miles, discounts on leaf-blowers, and trips to Cancun. But if irritated in the smallest degree or temporarily deprived of their lithium, they can turn on you overnight, threatening to repossess the furniture or auction your children's kidneys. A couple of weeks after my humiliation in the checkout line, I got a letter from Fleet Bank.

Fleet, a name heretofore largely associated with do-it-yourself enema equipment, seems to have become a major global financial player and developed some sort of alliance with Visa and hence with my old friend Working Assets. Anyway, this letter explained coldly that, due to a problem with my credit rating, my credit limit had been reduced to $400, which is barely enough for a round-trip ticket to Chicago or some even less desirable...