Throughout your early years, teachers, principals,
parents, and other
authority figures would warn you of the terrible effect your mischief was having on your
permanent record. Perhaps this frightened you. Perhaps, after caught in the
cookie jar in sixth grade, you thought
you'd never be able to get a job. Blemished forever, you hung your head in shame, resigned to your future as a
janitor.
At some point, you realized that nobody cared. Nobody was watching you. There was no permanent record.
And then you got a credit card.