E-Mail This Article to a Friend When I was bling In which the author discovers the unbridled joy of spending other people’s money BY STEVE ALMOND

I got a voicemail recently from the Fraud Unit of my credit-card company. As you might expect, I immediately hung up and fled the country with $10,000, my passport, and an O.J. mask.

Or actually, scratch that. What I did was call the number they left and talk to a perfectly delightful woman named Dawn, who explained that there was some "suspicious activity" on my account.

Actually, any sort of activity on my account would rank as suspicious because I do not, in fact, use my credit card. I use a debit card instead, as I have always lived by that old-fashioned, no-longer-politically-relevant rule: no spending money you don’t actually have.

The only reason I have a credit card at all is because I needed one to rent a car a few years ago. My charges for 2003? A whopping $14.72.

"Did you make a purchase," Dawn began, "at the Sunoco gas station on Calvert Street at 3:31 a.m. on September 20?"

"Where’s Calvert Street?" I said stupidly.

"Cambridge, Massachusetts."

"I live near Cambridge," I said, again stupidly.

I was thinking that maybe, in one of the drunken semi-stupors to which I am prone, I might have stopped at a gas station for candy and/or cigarettes and pulled out the wrong piece of plastic, as a result of the aforementioned stupor.

"Was that a Friday?"

"Monday," Dawn said.

"How much was the purchase for?"

"One hundred 38 dollars and 31 cents."

"We’ve got a problem," I said.

Dawn went on to enumerate a dazzling series of purchases that totaled more than $2000, all made over two days.

"Do you recall making any of these purchases?" she said.

"Not unless I’ve been cloned," I said.

"Is that a ‘yes’?"

"No," I said. "I was making a little joke there. Almost imperceptible."

"Would you be willing to sign an affidavit to that effect?" said the very-serious fraud investigator Dawn.

Anyway, I signed the affidavit and a few weeks later my credit-card bill arrived. The suspicious charges had been credited. In the grand scheme of things, a very no-big-deal episode.

Except that I found myself examining the bill, a little obsessively.

This has to do with the fact that I am, to put it bluntly, cheap. More than cheap, I am masochistically cheap, the kind of guy who will, inevitably, buy the piece of luggage without wheels, because the one with wheels is 11 bucks more, for Chrissakes, and who will then spend approximately four hours every single trip complaining about my sore back, because my goddamn luggage doesn’t have wheels.

You know the type.

But the man or woman who wound up with my credit card had no such issues. He/she spent money with a fervor I found strangely touching. It was like I had this doppelgänger out there, spending money the way I always fantasized about, the way a true American should spend money.

I even gave my doppelgänger a name: Chad. And I began to construct a narrative around his many purchases.

After clearing out the Bud Lite and beef jerky at the Sunoco, Chad went back to his crib and chowed down. Then he took a brief nap and rose early for a little shopping spree with his lady, Beverly. First stop: Filene’s. He picked up a leather jacket ($257), a nice cocktail dress for Bev ($79.99), and some matching winter gloves ($59.50). Then it was off to the Gap for some khakis and boxers ($138), and to the Original Levi’s Store for jeans (three pairs, all stonewashed, $104.55).

But what about shoes? How could he forget shoes? So he stopped at Florsheim for a little foot therapy, to the tune of $129.17.

All this shopping left him exhausted. It was time to eat. And where better to his sate his appetite than at Pizzeria Uno? Forty bucks later, he and Bev were full. Or actually, apparently, they weren’t quite full. The pizza had only whetted their appetite for ... more pizza. So it was off to Tommy’s House of Pizza for another couple of pies ($23).

Ah, there’s nothing like seven pizzas to cap a long day of spending.

Except, of course, fried chicken!

Yes, that’s right. Chad and Bev weren’t quite done yet. They had a David Ortiz–type appetite. That or a tapeworm. Whatever the case, they laid down $41 at KFC.

And now here is where my little fantasy narrative gets a bit more involved. Because I have been to KFC, which specializes in extremely cheap chicken, generally about a buck a piece, meaning that Chad and Bev bought 41 pieces of chicken, which, even if they split it right down the middle, would leave them — to use the technical, medical term — dead.

So it occurred to me that Chad and Bev were buying for more than just two. They were going to throw a party! And every party needs a good sound system, which is why they headed to Best Buy, where they shelled out $325.

The party theory would also explain the trip to Star Market ($125 for supplies) and the University Wine Shop ($12.55), as well as the $92 spent at Highlights Hair Salon. Bev wanted the frosted look for her guests. Totally legit.

I even got a little choked up as I thought about the incredibly gratifying day of consumption that Chad and Bev enjoyed, while I was at home, spraining my thumb in a desperate attempt to squeeze the final tiny dollop of toothpaste out of my tube of Colgate.

I felt, as I imagined them boogying on down while munching on extra-crispy drumsticks and drinking very small cups of merlot, that I might have made some poor decisions as relates to my spending habits.

Perhaps, as an American, it was my obligation to spend money that didn’t belong to me and, with any luck, to run up a massive debt for my children to inherit.

And thus, in a moment of clarity, I made a note to change my stingy ways, to embrace conspicuous consumption at every turn, and to steal my landlord’s wallet at the very next opportunity.

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