The tacky index: Hollywood writer + Los Angeles address + Filet-O-Fish = Danger!(creditworthiness of credit cardholders)(Essay)

EVERY decent American, when he or she is standing at a cash register, having just handed over the Visa card to pay for the pile of groceries or whatever, says the same silent prayer:

Please let the card go through.

Or we open the little plastic folder that holds the restaurant bill--oh, look! the waiter has brought us a little booklet!--slip our card into the slot, flip the booklet closed with a snap, hand it back to the waiter, and as he takes it away we half-close our eyes and pray:

Please let the card go through.

It's our national mantra. It doesn't really matter if we know, for certain, that the card is fully operational and loaded with untapped credit; it doesn't matter if we're the clean-living pay-it-off-each-month type; it doesn't matter if it's an AmEx Platinum or a Centurion.

The lady takes the card and swipes it through the machine, and we stare, in tense silence, as the display on the thingy goes from "Connecting ... " to "Transacting ... " The waiter makes his way back to our table through the crowded restaurant and we scan his facial expression for clues: Does he look like he's about to have an awkward conversation with us? Does he look suspicious or disapproving or ready to call the sheriff?

But when the display shows "Approved," or the waiter plops down the check, ready for signature, it's like a little victory. Aminor triumph. Anarrow escape.