There’s no denying the simple fact that the quality of adult life rests largely upon the three little numbers derived from the sum of everything on a stupid credit report file. Daily credit, car loans, home mortgages, even jobs in some cases, all care about this number and use it to judge whether you’d be a good risk – as a consumer, an employee, or anything freaking else it seems.
It’s no secret that I’ve been struggling to find a regular job for well over a year (close to 2, at this point). I can’t even begin to count the number of jobs I have applied to during that time period, but I can tell you how many have requested an interview: ONE. One interview request in 2 years. That’s ridiculous. (No, I’m not counting my 3 month stint with