Throughout your early years, teachers, principals, parents, and other authority figures would warn you of the terrible effect your mischief was having on your permanent record. Perhaps this frightened you. Perhaps, after caught in the cookie jar in sixth grade, you thought you'd never be able to get a job. Blemished forever, you hung your head in shame, resigned to your future as a janitor.

At some point, you realized that nobody cared. Nobody was watching you. There was no permanent record.

And then you got a credit card.