Author Description

Pledging, hazing, beer bongs... that's right, it's the sometimes bewildering world of credit card membership. Despite a good job in the fashion industry and even better intentions, Jennifer Ott finds herself in the unavoidable position of provoking the ire of either Uncle Sam or her creditors. She decides to pay her taxes, but finds out just how vindictive credit card companies can be. Seen through the tears of frustration, these faceless corporations take on the appearance of college fraternities, their CEOs and presidents as capricious as characters from Animal House. Sure, these friendly frat brothers -- intoxicated by their own good will (and sometimes other things) -- offer a lot to entice us. We're given entry into an elite society, power, identity, and some really great toga parties. And while the buzz from the drinking games has us in a stupor, all the debauchery seems like a good idea -- like the American Dream. But then the bill comes due, and you really don't want to piss off Kappa Beta with a late payment: [They] stripped me naked and circled around me beside a blazing fire. They branded me with irons. The words 'bad girl' were seared into my skin, making sure I would never outlive their scorn. By avoiding the jargon of economics books, Ooh, Baby Compound Me captures what it's really like to be at the mercy of the corporations that control our financial destinies.