I went to a good school. I mean, let's not go overboard; I didn't go to the University of Chicago.
But I went to a university in Chicago. That ought to count for something.
And it does. It counts for tens of thousands of dollars in student loan debt. (Like most things in life, this is more than some bear and less than others.)
Because I have no revenue stream, I called my lender. I told the nice young man in India that I would like to lower my payments.
"If you go on our reduced payment plan, you can pay $184 a month," he said.
"But I'm paying $200 a month now."
"Yes, sir."
"So that's a savings of $16?"
"Yes, sir."
"Isn't there any way to lower the payment a bit more?"
"No, sir. You don't owe enough money to qualify for a more reduced payment."
I disagree.
The other day, when I participated in a medical research experiment, my scientist said that he might be able to move up some of my appointment dates to get it all wrapped up sooner.
That would be great, I told him.
"Yeah," he said. "We had some cancellations. One of our subjects couldn't find a job so he had to move back in with his parents. It happens a lot."
I get a little indignant about the idea of going back to school. Going back wouldn't be about the thirst for knowledge so much as the hunger for a paycheck. And it just riles me a bit. I knew what I wanted to do with my life since elementary school. I busted my ass in high scool, and then I went out and got two journalism degrees!
Shouldn't that be enough?
I'm sorry. Wrong question.
Would you like fries with that?