I HATE runny oatmeal. I actually don’t like oatmeal that much even when its NOT runny. And I hate that people call it that. It’s “oats” or “rolled oats”. “Meal” denotes flour that is made of something. Corn meal is corn flour. Corn Flakes are not corn meal. “Oats” are not “oatmeal”. It’s sort of like saying “tunafish,” which everyone says, even though “tuna” never refers to anything but a type of fish. It’s not like the reader was going to think maybe you had a “tuna bird” wrap for lunch.
My meds have worn off so I get derailed easily. The point I WANTED to make is about business. That’s what I do for a living – I talk about business. Not to you. Not right now. All the time. And right now I am saddled with the least sexy confluence of stories imaginable. A “subprime” mortgage meltdown, combined with a credit crunch and a liquidity crisis. It’s the business equivalent of a “tuna fish” wrap with a side of carrots and runny “oatmeal”. I can’t make this sing if I wanted to. My producer, who shall remain nameless, but we’ll call him “Adam” for purposes of this entry (‘cuz that’s his name), says he’s bored with the story. It’s become like identity theft: it happens all the time, to millions of people, but it doesn’t matter until it happens to you.
So I have decided to put a face to the mortgage story. Tomorrow morning I go public with the fact that I am, in fact, subprime. Uh huh. According to research I have done, having a credit score of less that 700 makes you sub-prime. Guess what? I been late a few times. On my payments. I never automated them, and I am habitually late. My car company, for whatever reason, feels the need to report my late payments to the credit bureau EVERY SINGLE TIME. My credit score has taken a fierce beating as a result, and I am one of the millions of subprime homeowners that are, apparently, part of the problem.
If you can’t beat em, join em. Maybe I’ll kick it up a notch. I’ll be Optimus SubPrime.