As America’s tariff wars reshape the global economy, a vocal army of self-styled “tariff experts”—ordinary folks with strong opinions and stronger Wi-Fi—find themselves drowning in a crisis they didn’t tweet about: student loan debt. These armchair economists, who rose to prominence on X by shouting about trade policy, are now grappling with the harsh reality that pontificating about tariffs doesn’t pay the bills.

“I’ve got 47,000 followers and a pinned thread explaining why a 20% aluminum tariff saves jobs,” said Jake “TariffKing69” Russo, a 32-year-old former marketing major who works at a vape shop. “But my $120,000 student loan? That’s a trade deficit I can’t negotiate. My Sallie Mae statements are basically a tariff on my dreams.”

The plight of these loudmouth tariff enthusiasts—estimated at 3.2 million nationwide—stems from a cultural boom in tariff obsession during the trade wars of the late 2010s and 2020s. Fueled by cable news and X debates, everyday Americans like baristas, Uber drivers, and unemployed liberal arts grads transformed into amateur trade warriors, armed with memes, half-read Wikipedia pages, and an unshakable belief that tariffs were either America’s salvation or its doom. But while they mastered the art of dunking on “free trade shills” online, their personal finances remain a no-man’s-land of late fees and regret.

“I spent four years getting a communications degree and six months yelling about soybean tariffs on X,” said Tiffany Miller, a 27-year-old barista with $85,000 in loans. “I thought I was owning the globalists, but now I’m getting owned by 6.8% interest rates. Nobody told me ‘retweet’ doesn’t equal ‘refinance.’”

The oversupply of tariff hot air hasn’t helped. With every Joe and Jane opining on trade policy, the market for actual expertise is flooded with noise. “I used to get 200 likes just for saying ‘Tariffs = Jobs,’” moaned Russo, who now struggles to break 10. “Now every boomer with a keyboard thinks they’re a trade negotiator. I’m back to posting cat pics to stay relevant.”

Desperate for solutions, some self-proclaimed experts are pivoting to absurd financial strategies. A group in Ohio launched a GoFundMe called “Tariff Bros Debt Relief,” promising to “stick it to the banks like we stuck it to China.” Others are begging for a government bailout, claiming their X threads qualify as “economic patriotism.” Miller, meanwhile, tried bartering with her loan servicer. “I offered to pay in tariff-free coffee beans,” she said. “They hung up.”

The Department of Education remains unsympathetic. “Yelling about tariffs on social media isn’t a career,” a spokesperson said, suggesting the group “consider trade schools—ironically, not the trade policy kind.” The advice sparked outrage among the tariff crowd, who argued that moving to a cheaper country would involve “way too many customs forms.”

As loan balances balloon, the tariff talkers are leaning into dark humor. “I told my lender I’d pay in retweets,” Russo quipped. “They sent me a collections notice with ‘MAGA’ in the subject line.” Others hold out hope for a miracle, like a tariff on student loan debt itself. Until then, America’s loudest trade pundits will keep posting, dodging bill collectors, and wondering if they should’ve stuck to arguing about sports.

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