I am not at home when my cell rings.
It's Alexander; he never calls me in the middle of the day. I pick up and immediately hear in his voice that something is very wrong.
" Hi. I can't talk." That's how he begins the conversation, even though he's calling me.
"What's up?" I ask.
"I thought I'd paid my rent for the whole year, but apparently I just paid for six months, and I just got an email that I'm late and my rent is past due and I had no idea and...." I can hear fear in his voice.
"Okay, but you have the money to pay, right?"
"Ya, it's not that. I'll send them a check today."
"Okay, that's fine. So what's wrong?"
I'm waiting for, "I've been thrown out of my apartment and now have no where to live."
Or something really bad like, "I was so troubled by the email that I spaced out and failed two important tests."
But I'm wrong.
"What's this going to do to my credit score?"
Ah, my son must be growing up. The real world is just a few weeks away.
Good that the renting office is used to dealing with students. There will be no consequences.
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