PAID IN FULL
There’s this thing on credit card debt called a residual finance charge. The best explanation that I can give for it is this: If you don’t pay your balance off in full each month, then you are accruing interest on a daily basis. The balance that you see on your credit card statement is the balance as of the day that it’s printed. Now, let’s say that your statement is printed on the fifth of the month and you receive it on the eighth. Then you write a check to pay that balance and send it in and the credit card company receives the payment on the fourteenth. That means that the account has accrued nine days worth of interest. You would receive one more statement for this before the account has cleared. Contrary to popular belief, this is common practice among all credit card companies and has prompted a rather humorous urban legend. I’ve run into it a few times now. Someone came up with the bright idea that, if the customer writes Paid in Full somewhere on check and the credit card company cashes it, then the credit card company is required to ignore the residual finance charge. This is ludicrous. It is not a law. Most banks use an electronic system for processing payments and most people don’t even look at the check other than to make sure that it is run through the scanner properly. If you write that on your check, then you are going to be sorely disappointed when you get your final bill.
I am about to celebrate my third Father’s Day as a Daddy. I can still remember the Spiderman teething toy that I got for my first one. It’s still in my daughter’s toy box. Today, however, I’m prompted to think about my own father. You see, I see these men who travel the world for their jobs, purchasing BMWs for their children on their sixteenth birthdays and prompting those children to continue a tradition of proving their love with gifts and perpetuating the notion that money is what makes a man.
George Charles Davis, my Dad, wasn’t one of those people. Having married my mother when she had two boys from a previous marriage, he supported two sons who weren’t his blood, but they were his heart. Then, I came along five years later. With an eighth grade education, my Dad worked hard, believing-as his father had taught him-that hard work builds true character and that this is what makes a man. My dad worked as a bargeman in freezing cold weather and blistering heat, not afraid to get his hands dirty. He was a leader of men who respected him because of his work ethic and his willingness to sacrifice to support his family and to get the job done.
Now-after years of working with the ammonia on those barges-my Dad lays in a hospital bed in the mobile home that he shares with my mother, barely able to breathe due to the emphysema that grips his lungs. His health is shattered, but he doesn’t regret it. He did it to provide for us-to make sure that we were fed and housed and clothed. And he is more of a man than any of those others who measure their worth by material possessions and who drive Mercedes’ and live in mansions, but who don’t leave a true legacy for their children. A man’s worth should not be measured by his wealth. His wealth should be measured by his worth. And given that, my Dad is the wealthiest man that I know.
I’ve finished editing one of my stories. I’m now about to go back and start the major re-edit on one of my already published books. More later.
Until next time, God Bless