The first time I saw someone cry over a $200 credit card limit, I was 24 and working the phones at a subprime lender in Phoenix. She was a single mom who’d just gotten approved for our card—one of t ...
I remember the first time I sat across from a mesothelioma patient. He was in his early seventies, soft-spoken, and tired—not just physically, but in that way people are when they’ve spent months fi ...