What I Wish I Knew About Credit Cards Before Getting One in Pakistan

Nobody Taught Me This in School… But It Changed My Money Game

I still remember the day the courier handed me that shiny blue card. It wasn’t just a piece of plastic  it felt like a mini promotion in life. Like a silent message whispering: Welcome to adulthood. Now you can swipe and buy anything you want. I was twenty-two back then, fresh out of university, broke but hopeful, and had absolutely zero clue what I was signing up for.

I wish someone had warned me that credit cards are not magical. They're not free money. They’re not “grown-up power.” They’re a tool. And like any tool, it can either help you build your life or quietly destroy it depending on how you use it.

Let me take you back. That first week I got my card, I went a little... crazy. Not shopping spree level, but the kind of small daily swipes that don’t feel dangerous. A shawarma here. Netflix subscription. Careem rides when I could’ve easily taken the bus. A random Daraz sale I didn’t even need. Everything felt light. Swipe and done. No pain, no cash leaving my wallet. That’s how it starts.

And then, the bill arrived.

Twenty-three thousand rupees. Just like that.

My heart sank. I stared at that email for ten straight minutes. And you know what made it worse? The bank had written “Minimum Due: Rs. 2,000” in big bold letters. So of course, I thought, okay… I’ll just pay that. It felt easy. Safe.

But no one told me that paying the minimum is a trap. The rest of the amount doesn’t disappear  it quietly waits in the shadows, collecting interest like a hungry ghost. The next month, I was charged more. A “service fee” I never saw coming. I scrolled through the fine print and wanted to cry. I didn’t even know what half those charges were for. It was like the bank punished me for being young and clueless.

That was the first time I truly felt financially dumb. And trust me, it wasn’t the last.

One of the most frustrating things about this whole journey? Realising that our schools never taught us this stuff. We studied algebra, we memorised chemical formulas, we even learned the parts of a plant leaf — but no one sat us down and explained how credit cards work. How banks make money off your delay. How one missed due date can turn into a full-blown financial mess.

I remember one time I missed my payment by just three days. Just three. Why? Because I got stuck in Lahore traffic and honestly forgot. Thought I’d pay the next morning. The bank had no sympathy. Late fee added. Then interest on that late fee. And the next month? More charges. It felt like I was being fined for existing. I wanted to scream.

Since then, I set a reminder five days before every due date. I pay early. Not just because I want to be a good citizen, but because I’ve seen how easily one small delay can snowball into thousands of rupees gone — for nothing.

And the worst part? It’s not just about money. It’s about the shame. The guilt. The way you feel when your card gets declined in public. It happened to me once in a bakery near my place. I was buying brownies for a friend’s birthday. Swiped the card confidently. Machine blinked twice… then said “Declined.”

The cashier looked at me like I’d tried to pass a fake note. My ears went hot. I wanted the ground to open and swallow me whole. I smiled, said “maybe it’s a network issue,” and walked out pretending to take a call. It wasn’t the network. I just didn’t have enough left on the card.

Nobody talks about that kind of humiliation.

Another thing I had to learn the hard way: a higher credit limit is not a salary upgrade. After six months of regular usage, the bank increased my limit from fifty to ninety thousand. I didn’t ask for it. They just did it. And in that moment, I felt rich. Stupid rich.

So I celebrated. Bought stuff I didn’t need. Ordered food like I had a restaurant inside me. Even thought about getting new shoes just because I liked the colour. Then one day, while I was sitting beside my dad, an SMS alert came from the bank: “Your purchase of Rs. 12,600 has been approved.”

He looked at it. Then looked at me. Didn’t say much. Just asked, “Tu sambhal lega?”

That one sentence hit harder than any lecture. It wasn’t angry. It was disappointed. That’s worse.

I sat down that night, opened my laptop, checked my statement, and felt sick. I had messed up. Took me four months to fix it. Four months of designing logos for random clients online. Skipping outings. Canceling birthday plans. All to pay off a mistake that started with a swipe.

Now I look at my credit card limit like it's dangerous territory. If my limit is ninety thousand, I pretend it’s forty. I train my brain to ignore the rest.

Oh and reward points? Ha. Don’t even get me started.

At first, I thought they were amazing. I mean, who doesn’t want a free airline ticket just for spending like normal, right? So I started chasing points. Coffee runs I didn’t need. Extra snacks. Useless gadgets from online stores  all in the name of “collecting points.”

Guess what? By the time I earned enough for the airline ticket, I had already spent double the price of the actual flight. That’s how they get you. These reward programmes are designed to make you swipe more, not save more. Now I only use my card when I absolutely need to like groceries from Imtiaz, or refuelling at PSO. And if I earn points, cool. If not, no big deal. I’ve stopped chasing them.

And then there’s the security drama.

One night in my university hostel, I used the shared Wi-Fi to order pizza online. Didn’t think twice. Entered my card details and went to sleep. Next morning I got a notification: three strange charges in dollars. Not rupees. Dollars. I panicked.

Turns out, someone had grabbed my card info through the public Wi-Fi. The bank helped me reverse the charges, but they blocked my card. Issued a new one. It took ten days. During that time, I couldn’t receive payments from clients. Couldn’t order anything. Couldn't even book a ride. Total chaos.

Now I only use mobile data when entering card details. It might cost a few rupees extra, but peace of mind is priceless.

I’m not saying credit cards are evil. They’re not. In fact, they’ve helped me in tough times. Once my bike tyre burst on Sheikhupura Road. No ATM nearby. No cash. Just a roadside puncture guy who somehow had a card machine. That little plastic saved my day.

But it’s like strong red chili sauce. A little bit adds taste. Too much burns everything.

I still make mistakes. I’m not going to sit here and act like I’ve figured it all out. Just last month I was so tempted to buy a gaming headset. It was on “six easy monthly payments.” Looked sleek. Felt like a treat.

But something in me paused. I stared at the screen for ten minutes. Then I remembered  my laptop fan is already dying. I need to save for that. I closed the tab, went outside for some fresh air, and let it go.

That small moment? Felt like a personal victory.

Because managing money isn’t about perfection. It’s about progress. About learning from your past, forgiving yourself, and trying again. I’ve had so many sleepless nights worrying about bills. So many days where I hated myself for being careless. But slowly, with each mistake, I’m learning.

And I want you to learn too  without the drama.

If you’re planning to get a credit card, please do this: read the schedule of charges. It’s boring, but trust me, those tiny lines hide big surprises. Set a reminder on your phone five days before your due date. And whatever limit they give you, mentally cut it in half.

Also, talk about money. With your friends. With your siblings. Even with your parents. The more we open up about this stuff, the less alone we’ll feel. Money mistakes don’t mean you’re bad. They mean you’re learning.

I hope this post helps you avoid at least one of the mistakes I made. Or maybe it just reminds you that you're not alone in this. We’re all figuring things out, one bill at a time.

If you’ve had your own credit card disaster  big or small  tell me in the comments. We’ll laugh together. Maybe cry too. But mostly, we’ll learn.

Till then, stay safe, spend smart, and may your statement always show zero interest.

Thanks for reading. Truly.