You bought what?

A few weeks ago, Rachael and I went into Victoria's Secret so that she could make a return. It was supposed to be a simple in, out, go find ice cream procedure. But while Rachael was making her way to the cash register, a salesgirl approached me.

"Hello! Today we're having a special event! With each purchase of $10 or more, we are offering FREE gift certificates which could have up to $500 on them! You are guaranteed at least $10! Guaranteed! It's a great deal, because-"

"Let me stop you right there," I said. She stopped. "I was sold more or less as soon as you walked up to me, and I'd hate to have you waste any more of your time. I'm going to go spend money now."

She laughed a bit, and walked away, happy with her skills as a salesperson and probably amused at how stupid I am.

Of course, my idea was to buy something for the minimum of $10, but of course Victoria's Secret doesn't sell anything for $10, so I spent a ridiculous sum of money on bits of strings that are hardly effective at anything. But was I angry? Upset? Annoyed? No! I was quite pleased with myself, because I was going to win $500! Because the nice lady told me so!

The deal was you could not reveal how much was on the card until April, so I got to carry around that cardboard representation of potential and hope in my wallet for a month before discovering that like millions of women across America I was stuck with a card worth $10 in a store that doesn't sell very many things for under $18.

Did I learn my lesson? Hopefully...but probably not. Let's be honest. This is not the first time I have done something similar. Or the second. Or the third. Or the fourth...

We can go back nine years to a day Rachael and I were at the mall (has anyone else noticed Rachael as a common denominator?) and we wandered into a candle shop which has since gone out of business so don't bother trying to find it.

Somehow, I found these neat candles shaped like blocks that glittered and proclaimed that as they burned, they melted away into the shape of a medieval castle. Inside the castle was a TREASURE CHEST filled with up to $50!

The saleswoman saw me looking at it and told me how cool it looked, and that the odds of my finding $50 were actually quite high! Plus, sparkly!

SPARKLY.

Oh yes, I bought the sparkly castle candle for a truly obscene amount of money. Actually, I'm not even going to tell you how much. That's how ashamed I still am. Though Rachael will tell you quite gleefully if you ask her. Rachael's note: I'm saving that particular detail for future blackmail.

I took the candle home, burned it in front of an audience (audience=9 year old sister) on the kitchen table, pried the little plastic chest out of a messy wax blob that looked nothing like a castle (unless that castle had been beset by a tornado, a hurricane, four dragons, and nuclear war in quick succession) and discovered (of course) a single silver dollar.

Despite the fact that I spent a truly ridiculous sum on money on a chunk of sparkly wax and underwear I could probably make myself by tying bits of string together, these are relatively minor things.

Things aren't always so minor.

When I was 16, I had to activate my credit card (yes, I had a credit card, yes, I paid my bills myself. I had a job. So there.). I hated calling people (this was during my period of allergy to human interaction) and begged my father to do it for me. He insisted that I needed to learn independence and phone calling skills and other skills.

I called, and for whatever reason, got a real live human being. I have never spoken to a real person since, not even when I've really wanted to. You always get those damned machines. In any case, he went through the normal activation steps and then said, "Would you like to purchase life insurance?"

Occasionally I display short bursts of intelligence, so I said, "No. Thank you."

But he was a salesperson, and probably being recorded, so he said, "It's a great idea, and for very little a month!"

I said, "Uuuuhhh..." and that was the beginning of the end.

"This way you protect your loved ones for being stuck with your credit card debt should anything happen to you. You wouldn't want your family to be saddled with your debt at a time when they're grieving."

I am a kind-hearted individual, and I agreed that it would indeed be cruel of me to leave my parents with the burden, especially after losing me.

"They pay nothing, it all just goes away. And the cost to you is minimal!"

I was a young, perfectly healthy teenager whose credit card bills were averaging $20 a month. But we all know how this ends. I bought the life insurance policy and was proud of myself until I hung up the phone and broke the salesman's spell.

"Shit," I said.

I went down the stairs to find my father, who said, "See? Not so bad, was it?"

"Uuuhhh..."

After I explained incoherently, and then again slightly more coherently, and then again coherently enough for a human being to understand, my father called up Capital One and yelled at them for harassing a sensitive (stupid) teenage girl until they canceled my new policy. After my father yelled at me for being stupid (sensitive), he reassured me that in the event of my untimely demise he would not feel unduly burdened by my $15 to $30 debt.

I am older now, and less likely to purchase life insurance. Unless the salesperson is really good. Or moderately good. Or talks to me.