Are credit scores the ultimate scam?
What’s your number?” There’s little that’s scarier than this seemingly innocuous question. And no, I’m not talking about how many people you’ve slept with. I’m talking about your credit score.
The topic hadn’t once crossed my mind in 34 years until, overnight, it commandeered my every waking thought.
I was trying to buy a house, you see. And when buying a house, you usually need a mortgage. And when applying for a mortgage, the number that sums up how “risky” you are to lend to suddenly becomes very important indeed.
Not having considered it before, I blithely assumed I would have an excellent rating. How could I not? I paid my rent and bills on time every month; I wasn’t in debt; I had one credit card that I spent a couple of hundred quid on each month and automatically paid back by direct debit. But it wasn’t “excellent”. It wasn’t even “good”. It was at the lower end of “fair”. During the endless months of house hunting, I checked it obsessively. Why had it gone up by 10 points? Down by 20? It was
