|When you're dancing with the stars it's tough to|
compete with perfection.
We just finished building a house and found ourselves in many conversations with bankers, mortgage officers, and other folks evaluating our credit worthiness. It appears we are perfect in that regard, something even I would dispute.
I guess I first noticed it when being interviewed on the phone regarding our application for a home loan. "For security reasons," she said, "May I have the last four digits of your Social Security number." I provided the information and she responded, "Perfect!"
It took me back. Had I known I was being graded I would have given more thought to my answer. I surely would not have wanted the last four digits of my Social Security number to be less than perfect. I probably would have wanted to consult that flimsy red, white, and blue card they gave me back when I took a job at that godforsaken laundry when I was about 12. I didn't have it on me, but I think I know the box it's in, or at least the room. I could have gone there and found it so as to avoid any chance of being imperfect on those four digits.
But before I could process all of that, my current address was also judged by the banker to be "perfect." Ah ha! Now I had them. That address was on East 30th Terrace Court and sometimes East was shortened to E; Terrace abbreviated as Terr. and sometimes Ter.; often Court was shortened to Ct. And most disconcerting, the Post Office on occasion added an "S" on the end, presumably meaning South. It was a volunteer thing, I guess. I opted out, figuring East and South needed to play together at one end of the address or the other. I wasn't about to contribute to dysfunctional coordinates in my home address.