Last March, my FICO score was 812. I had excellent credit, a rewards card I never used, and zero understanding of what any of it meant. So I did what any reasonable person would do: I systematically dismantled my credit score to see what would happen.

The results surprised even me.

Here are the seven strategies I employed:

1. Maxed out my utilization. I took my credit utilization from 3% to 94% in a single billing cycle. The algorithm did not appreciate this.

2. Requested seventeen hard pulls in one month. I applied for store cards I had no intention of using. The Pottery Barn associate seemed concerned.

3. Closed my oldest account. My first credit card was from 2009. I called and cancelled it while a customer service representative named Marcus quietly pleaded with me to reconsider.

4. Paid everything late. Not dramatically late. Just 31 days late. The minimum threshold for reporting. Strategic lateness.

5. Disputed accurate information. I filed disputes against legitimate entries on my credit report. They were all rejected, but the activity showed up.

6. Became an authorized user on my cousin's terrible account. Derek has a 312 score and three collections. His card now appears on my report.

7. Stopped monitoring entirely. I deleted my credit monitoring apps. Ignorance, I reasoned, was a form of freedom.

Within four months, my score dropped to 583. And here's what I learned: nothing changed.

My rent stayed the same. My employer didn't check. I don't need a car loan. The credit score industrial complex had convinced me that a three-digit number controlled my life, but what about the banks that crashed the economy in 2008? What about the credit bureaus that leaked 147 million people's data? At the end of the day, I'm supposed to optimize my behavior for institutions that can't secure a database?

I'm not saying everyone should destroy their credit score. I'm saying I did, and I'm fine, and maybe that's worth thinking about.