When I was sixteen I got a debit card, mainly because my father was tired of giving me cash for school transportation. Each month my father would deposit just enough money for me to be able to buy my bus tickets.
Having my own bank account was fun. Eventually I started to add my own money to the account and I rejoiced as I watched it grow. As my friends discovered the joys of melting plastic, I discovered the thrills of saving and actually having money in my bank account. As a result, I never had to extend my credit limit beyond the meager 500 shekel limit that it originally came with.
Unfortunately, there came a time when I had to start growing up and paying my own way. The reality of the situation hit me when I tried to sign up for my psycometri exam a couple of months ago which exceeded my credit limit. My parents offered to pay for it but it seemed like something that I probably shouldn't be pushing off so I headed to the bank to take care of things.
I arrived at the bank with purpose and determination. Sadly I had neglected to find out how to say "credit limit" in hebrew and decided that the word "chov" (meaning debt) would suit me just fine.
I sat down in front of the banker and declared that "I would like two thousand shekels of debt, please.", the banker gave me a funny look and than laughed as if I had told a joke. Puzzled by her response, I repeated my request. She still wasn't answering me so I spent the next five minutes adamantly insisting that she give me debt.
Eventually she looked up from her computer and tentatively asked if I might want her to extend my credit limit instead of giving me two thousand shekels of debt. I thought about if for a minute and nodded sheepishly as I realized my mistake. She printed out a bunch of forms and handed them over for me to sign. I signed the papers and then thanked her for her help before getting up to leave.
Luckily she took pity on me and waited until I was downstairs before telling the other bankers about my little mishap.
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