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FICO U

When I was a child, I had the credit score of a child. Now that I’m grown, I see through an iPhone darkly. Because it was in night mode. I was also squinting angrily in frustration.

One friggin point from maximum? That hardly matters, but it’s taunting me simply from an OCD standpoint.

As one with years in the credit industry, I’m very familiar with peoples’ delusions about their own credit worthiness. Underwriting for the mass public, especially in the retail credit realm, is telling. Most people are either largely ignorant or completely lacking self-awareness. The number of times “I have perfect credit!” was shouted at me from someone with a FICO in the 300s was disturbingly common. So common that it became a meme amongst my call center cohorts.

Fortunately I’ve moved on from customer-facing roles. And in the interim, a number of governmental regulations have been implemented that force additional transparency for the consumer. So I hope that the confused masses are taking opportunities from the present availability of information to better understand their own credit scores.

Still though, even as one associated with the industry, the scoring model remains mystical. So naturally, I consulted AI. Here’s what it had to say:

If your credit score is one point below the maximum (for example, 849 instead of 850 on many FICO models), it’s usually because the scoring model has found some tiny imperfection or simply because the algorithm doesn’t hand out the absolute maximum very often.

Common reasons include:

  • You still have active credit accounts. Oddly enough, having and using credit perfectly can sometimes score a point or two lower than having an idealized profile.
  • One inquiry in the last year or two. A recent mortgage, auto loan, or credit card application can shave a few points.
  • A non-zero balance reporting. Even if you pay cards in full every month, one card may report a small balance before the statement closes.
  • Credit mix isn’t mathematically perfect. The model may prefer a certain combination of revolving and installment accounts.
  • Average age of accounts. Even excellent profiles can be a point or two shy if some accounts are relatively newer.
  • Model quirks. Credit scores are statistical models, not grades. Sometimes two nearly identical consumers will differ by a point or two for reasons that aren’t obvious.

In conclusion, it would appear that a perfect credit score is nearly impossible to achieve. So it is with much regret that I must say to all my former interlocutors in consumer credit that, unfortunately, it’s unlikely that you ever had, or ever will have, perfect credit.

But I’m close!

–Simon

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Mushrooms (Part 5)

AI does not like to identify mushrooms. Mushrooms are difficult to identify, so I get it, but I’m also a 90s kid who saw playground equipment removed from schools and warning labels applied to coffee cups. I suspect that AI could give a probable identification, but doesn’t want the responsibility of someone poisoning themself if the identification were incorrect. So alas, despite my curiosity with this kingdom of lifeforms, I can’t fully catalog them.

But I can photograph them! Here’s some more from Easement Acres:

Hopus lionus (I hope this is the Lion’s Man I inoculated into this stump earlier this year).
Schizophyllum commune?
I know this one, because I seeded it! Stropharia rugosoannulata
Galerina marginata? AKA Funeral Bell. Might be Desarmillaria tabescens, but I’m not going to try eating them.
Some form of Crepidotus

Lots of rain bringeth lots of mushrooms. Don’t eat them, or at least don’t blame AI if you do and die.

–Simon

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More Foliage!

Southwest Ohio is naturally a woodland. Suburbia fights this for what I gather are a few reasons: 1) Trees make mowing more difficult, 2) Tall canopy trees don’t make much in the way of pretty flowers, 3) Homeowners are paranoid about falling branches, 4) Trees interfere with utilities, 5) Trees create yard waste. 6) Trees shade out grass. Etc., etc….

But they’re a natural aesthetic and blocker of the merciless summertime UV death rays! So I will continue working with nature for the perks, instead of focusing on the negatives. I also want to expand the hosta patch, and that requires more shade. So I present to you, the Japanese maple:

Okay, maybe it’s not a true native, but neither are the honeysuckle. It’ll work. I speak for the trees, dammit!

–Simon

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Yew the Day: A Cutaneous Curiosity

Warning: Gore

Nothing drives home the fragility of the human body like a life-changing injury. Or from witnessing one. My old butcher shop job drove this point home with exceptional gravity, as all the equipment was specially designed to dismember and dissect mammalian bone and flesh. The band saw in particular terrified me. Half a second to cut through a cow femur. I remained on guard with that doomsday device. A coworker – not so much. His mishap involved reconstructive surgery.

The meat slicer was also a cruel machine. I never caught a finger on it while in operation, but dismantling it for cleaning was a constant potential for injury. Pulling a large circular blade out of a recessed mount was an awkward maneuver. The clumsy shape would have made the action difficult even if it wasn’t sharp – which it was. Very. I suffered many a nick. But ultimately it was freehanding a knife that finally did me in. A slip on lamb fat severed my fingertip. Nothing like getting that stitched back on without anesthetic, because injecting the wound site would have swollen it beyond stitchability.

Between that, a couple swordfighting mishaps, and a couple home knife-cleaning sessions; I’m no stranger to lacerations and sutures. It comes with the territory of my hobbies. However, these were all due to manual tools, not mechanical. My healthy fear has so far kept me from horrific injury.

But these lessons are learned. My daughter had not yet learned them. Until The Day of the Hedge Trimmer.

Warning: Gore

I was mowing. Liz was trimming the yew bush hedgerow at the front of the house. She enlisted the kid.

Oblivious to all this, I noticed The Coffee Bean making a hasty exodus. Then I received an explanation via this image:

Further assessment in the hospital revealed the extent of the injury: the hedge trimmer had sliced through skin, fat, and muscle. Threads of elastin hung from the wound:

If any of my own wounds had been that deep, I would not have been fully aware of it as mine were clean knife incisions. The hedge trimmer, however, was less surgical with its damage, leaving more of a gash than a cut.

Fortunately, no tendons or bones were damaged. She’s incredibly lucky, as this could have easily resulted in permanent loss of mobility. The attending nurse’s expertise was also encouraging, as she took a mangled scrap of human flesh and Frankensteined it back into a recognizable hand.

The kid’s lingering surrealism from the experience will hopefully remain as a lasting memory and cautionary tale. Pay attention, and use gloves. Man has built destructive machines, and they’re equally destructive to ourselves.

She’s since pointed out that we could all easily die at any moment from a multitude of body system failures. I think the lesson hit home. I didn’t even have to yell.

–Simon

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Nature will Try to Kill You, or Sometimes Just Want Fed

Of course, sometimes it will try to kill you because it wants food. Other times, however, it will ask nicely.

Take a gander

Such was the case when, doing some gardening, I was approached by a trio of ducks who then sat down and stared at me expectantly. But as I don’t normally walk around with duck chow in my pocket, I had to disappoint. Sensing a lack of forthcoming food, they wandered off.

But then they found my sump drainage line. More a retaining pool than anything, it had remained full with the amount of recent rain. And conveniently located next to that is the bird feeder, which always has seed beneath it, dropped by their messier cousins.

Satiated, they bed down for an afternoon nap.

We now have a flock of neighborhood ducks who, after being fed, decided this was a good neighborhood to live in. This is now The Year of the Duck.

Conversely, it’s also The Year of the Bees. I haven’t been stung in years, but a honey bee must have got itself stuck in my boot. Here’s the part where nature will also try to kill you.

Beware nature.

–Simon