(And...ACTION!)
I am at a hookah bar in Westwood,
Then the bill arrives.
It is for over $130. It sits there on the table for a minute. Conversations stall. Everyone looks at it, turns away, looks at it again. They begin to shuffle for purses and wallets.
(Roll Dialogue)
"Uh, I only have a $20," someone says. "I don't think I owe that much."
"I only have a debit card."
"Can we ask them to split the bill?"
"No, it says that you can't split the bill for parties of 8 or more."
"Well, how many do we have? I only count 7."
"Yeah, but three of us went to In-N-Out, remember?"
"Are they still there?"
"I guess so."
"Does anyone have their number?"
And so on.
(Fade-out)
There doesn't seem to be much going on in this scene. We've all experienced something like it dozens of times. We all know the next part.
(Roll dramatic slow-motion scene)
The head turns towards you. Flighty panic lights across the eyes, but nothing too serious. This person doesn't have money. Or has 20s and when they really need 1s and 5s. Or only has a debit card.
You know what's going through this head's mind. This head is thinking (In English subtitles): Hmmm...I have to pay somehow, but I don't have money...hmmm...let's see...
(Meanwhile)
The "leader" (subtitle: sucker) who took the bill and is in charge of getting money from everyone is asking, "Who hasn't paid?" He's getting worried. If no one fesses up, his wallet is on the frontline.
And the head is thinking: That's me, I haven't paid. Well, there is an easy way out of this predicament, a simple solution to getting off the hook....
The head's eyes touch yours. You know The Question before the head asks it...
(Fade-Out)
The person who asks me The Question is not a friend. I don't trust her, but I don't distrust her either. I used to feel neutral towards her, but now she's put me on The Spot. The Spot is not new. Shakespeare warned us about The Spot. The Spot churns like a thunderhead over the current economy. Only so few recognize the problems The Spot causes.
(Fade-In)
"What?" I say.
"Just $5," she says. "I just want to borrow $5."
And then the phrase that seems to put the matter to rest, to squash The Question, and clean The Spot out of this sullied conversation:
"I'll pay you back tomorrow."
It is 2 a.m. I wonder what tomorrow she means: the literal next cycle of morning to midnight one or the next time the sun rises. Of course, she means neither tomorrow. "Tomorrow" is some vague brushstroke towards the future.
The Spot is powerful. I feel it. I am uncomfortable. I was enjoying the warm cloud of hookah smoke and the college vibe. No longer.
"OK," I say. I reach for my wallet.
(Roll exposition)
Most people are shockingly incompetent in their ability to handle money.
They are particularly bad in borrowing and paying back. How many times have you lent money and never gotten it back? Maybe not so many. But how many times have you lent money to someone who has agreed to pay you back "tomorrow." When "tomorrow" rolls around, he/she still hasn't paid you back. Another "tomorrow" comes. Soon it's a new month and you still don't have your five bucks.
You finally approach this person. You're mad. But you also feel silly. It's been two weeks since you lent the money. And it's only five bucks. Who really cares? That's not going to make or break the bank. So as you approach the person, formulating: "Hey, remember when I lent you that five dollars and you said you'd pay me back..." You feel materialistic. You feel selfish. All for asking for what is yours.
(Fade Out to backstory)
As I sat in the hookah bar and handed this trust-don't-trust-friend-not-friend girl five bucks, I remembered that I'd been burned exactly two times already. One time, I was the "leader" (subtitle: sucker) and made the phone call for some Chinese food. Everyone who ordered had money, but two only had 20s. Common problem. Really, this is as good as not having money at all. Except they do have money, so they think they're entitled to borrow.
Anyway, the delivery guy didn't have change. So I covered the difference with my own cash and told the two people how much they owed me. I put in a clause: "It's your responsibility to pay me." And so that didn't sound too harsh: "I forget really easily, so just come to me tomorrow and pay. Remember, it's your responsibility."
The next day, one did, one didn't.
Fifty-freaking-percent.
Why are we so bad about remembering and paying our debts?
(Cut to Rant)
For one, most of the debts between friends and acquaintances are small. A buck here. Five bucks for some McD's there. A quarter for some laundry. In these cases, though we say "borrow," we actually mean "give." "I'll pay you back" is only a formality.
A second explanation is we're forgetful. The human mind can only store about seven (plus or minus two) items in short term memory. And who really wants to remember a debt anyway? Especially when it's a trivial one. Especially when it's one of your nice and generous (subtitle: sucker) friends. "Plus," we reason, "I'm not materialistic. I understand the greater aesthetic of life: that money don't not equal no happiness."
It takes someone who's been burned several times to really understand that these debts are not trivial at all. They matter a lot because they breach several tenets that we look for in people: trust being one, accountability another, being prepared a third, and, most importantly, the interpersonal and financial awareness that borrowing money puts someone on The Spot. In my case, it never was about the five bucks I lent to hookah-girl or the eight bucks to Chinese-food borrower. It was about a true test of friendship. If they felt friendly enough to ask for cash, were they friendly enough to repay it?
(Roll Moral)
For every dollar we casually lend and borrow, there's a lot more than the purchasing power of four gumballs exchanging hands.
We'd do well to remember this.
I've gotten stingy with my lending. Even with my long-term friends. This does make me feel selfish. Even though I know it isn't selfishness, I can't help it.
But that's a lot better than bearing a grudge against someone over some cash.
I used to be the guy who would organize movie/comedy club trips for my friends. I would front the cash. They would supposedly pay me back. I'm done with that. Ten dollars might not be worth much anymore, but my general perception of my peers' overall personal worth is. How people view you -- and feel free to count yourself an outlier to this concern; we all do -- matters a lot. Let how people view you be over important things -- your friendliness, your listening skills, how far you can drive a golf ball.
Not over money.
Not even you're going to pay them back "tomorrow." (Subtitle: never).
(Roll Credits)
Dedicated to all those who ever borrowed my money…especially those who still have it. You taught me some valuable lessons well worth every penny I'll never see again.
