I moved from Belgium to Washington in July 1995 and my life has changed in a number of appreciable ways. I no longer eat French fries with mayonnaise. I no longer write on subjects like the Italian pension system. And I am, at long last, on the verge of joining the American consumer culture. I haven’t been through the true blood ritual of American consumerism, because I have yet to buy a car. But I am on the verge, finally, of getting myself some real, actual, , physical things: a computer, some furniture, and a cordless phone.
I’d like to think the explanation for this behavior is that I’m growing up and taking responsibility for myself, but I’m afraid it’s something more perverse: It’s the American Express “Membership Rewards” program. According to the rules, you get one “point” for every dollar you charge on your American Express card. I enrolled in the program a year ago for the same reason every other naive soul has: There seemed to be nothing to lose, and eventually I would redeem my points for some fabulous reward, like a “free” trip to Europe.
I quickly discovered the rewards wouldn’t come as rapidly as I had thought. First I would have to accumulate 50,000 points in order to get that trip to Europe. So, even with what I consider an accelerated spending plan, my trip will come sometime in the next century. My disappointment was tempered when I learned that for just 15,000 points I could get a $ 300 gift certificate from the Tourneau watch company. And for 25,000 points, I could get a football autographed by Joe Namath. I have no use for either of these items, but I must go on: The knowledge that I could one day get something “free” in exchange for buying things has had a liberating effect. Every time I question whether I really need some new books I probably won’t ever read, or an expensive set of pillows designed to control allergies, I convince myself to throw down the plastic on the grounds that the purchase will in some small way contribute to my attaining a future reward.
I use my credit card in places I don’t need to. I recently charged a movie ticket on my Amex — it costs extra, but there’s another point or two! — and a single $ 3 beer. (I’m not as obsessed as one fellow I read about who built up miles by approaching people in restaurants and offering to let them use his credit card in exchange for cash.) I also ordered a MasterCard recently because the advertisement claims it will allow me to accumulate points that can be redeemed on any airline, any time. Thanks to the wonders of modern technology, I can now charge my groceries and my dry cleaning. I hope lottery tickets aren’t next.
I see the problem. After all, when am I ever going to have the time to use my “free” flight? I tend to travel during the peak holiday seasons, which are “blacked out” precisely to keep people like me from redeeming our rewards. In the past few years, I’ve accumulated enough miles for free flights on three different airlines, but have yet to be able to use them.
And spending begets more spending. I finally broke down and bought a CD player in May, and as a result I’ve bought a pile of CDs I never listen to. And because I do practically all of my shopping over the phone, I now receive about 15 different catalogs a week. I dutifully look through every one and realize I exactly fit the profile of the person these companies are preying on: a credit-card holder with itchy fingers.
But this hasn’t stopped me — in fact, I keep discovering new ways to move closer to those elusive rewards. One of my favorite catalogs, Huntington Clothiers, will give me a few hundred United miles when I buy their dress shirts. Delta will give me miles for eating at select restaurants. All the eating out will probably mean more pounds, which means new shirts, which means . . . more miles! American Express will give me one point for every ten dollars I invest in one of its mutual funds. You know, that could be a good deal. But who wants a good deal?
Can you charge a car?
MATTHEW REES
