This is one of the long posts I’ve been intending to write for a couple of years, along with a planned police harassment post and a medical post. But this post, the scam post, was prompted by the introduction of Snopes’ Daily Scam Report.
It is really easy to get scammed in our society. Considerate, well-raised people want to help, and want not to be thought poorly of. But thereare tons of people ready to take advantage of you at the slightest opportunity.
Disillusionment is hard, but necessary. I think more people are scammed than we think, because after a scam people tend to be embarrassed for being made a sucker. I hope to do my part here by presenting a sampling of the scams people have pulled on me, both
successfully and unsuccessfully. For the record, I’m listing the races, ages, and dress of the perpetrator, to help indicate that all sorts of people will try to scam you (and to dispel any myth that it’s mostly minorities: I’ve been hit up far more frequently by Caucasians.)
The Successful Scams
The auto body work scam (2003)
Setting: Strip mall parking lot, Rosemead Blvd and Foothill Blvd, Pasadena, California
This one is long, and for clarity I’m adding footnotes. Check at the end of this section for the numbered list.
The 2000 Audi A6 models have a design flaw which causes front bumpers to become caught on curbs and parking lot cement blocks. There is currently a class-action lawsuit trying to get Audi to recall the cars, but it hasn’t happened yet. In 2003, after my front bumper had been mostly detached for about a year, I was stopped in a parking lot by a pair of Hispanic men in their late twenties or early thirties wearing respectable clothes driving a white van. The passenger said “I’m a body shop guy, and I can fix that bumper for you.”
“Oh, what shop?” I asked
“A-1 Auto Body in Pasadena. But our uncle owns it and he lets us do work on the side.”
I was hesitant. He told me he could go to my workplace and do it while I worked. He could do it in a commercial parking lot if I wanted.
We could go to my house and fix it there. He told me that if I didn’t like how it turned out “I wouldn’t owe him a dime.” I told him thatthe dealership had quoted me a price of $1300 to fix it. 1 He thought for a moment and said he could do it for $900. I told him that no, I was busy, but if he gave me his number I would call him if I changed my mind. He rattled off the number, but said that if I did it today he could do it for$700. 2 He said he’d do such a good job that at the end I’d want to give him a tip. I was pondering this, and he asked me if I was a Christian.3 I told him that, no, I wasn’t. “Well, I’m a Christian,” he said, “and I wouldn’t cheat you.”
I relented. We went back to my house4 and they started working on the car. They removed the bumper, and the very nice guys5 explained what they were going to do. I forgot all the steps, but it was something like they were going to fill in the torn fiberglass places with resin, then re-attach the bumper, then putty the joints, then seal the putty, then paint the putty (”I think your paint color is such-and-such,” he said. “There are just a few stock colors that cars come off the line with.6 We have that car paint in our van.”), then apply a coat of wax. Sounded reasonable to me.
It took them a couple of hours, and then they applied a liberal coating of mostly opaque white wax. As this was going on, my mom called and mentioned that she had been in a small accident and would need some body work done. I told her about the guys and asked them if they could handle repairing the bumper on a Ford Escort. They told me that they could, for $300. My mom stopped by and they pounded out the back of her car where it had been hit, allowing the hatchback to close again. The rear bumper was ruined, but they said they worked with a guy who ran a wrecking yard. They would bring by a bumper for the Escort after I gave them the money. There were also a couple minor pieces of the Audibody that they said they could get for me.
I wasn’t that stupid, I thought. (Yeah, I thought.) I told them if they came by the next day I’d go with them to get the car bumper from their friend, then they could come back and finish fixing the Escort. I wouldn’t pay them for that until the job was done. But they wanted payment for the Audi now.
But then we remembered it was a holiday Friday. The banks were closed. I offered to write a check. They knew where I lived, so I thought it would be a safe proposition for them (they could come back if it didn’t clear), but no, they wanted cash. So I told them to come back the next day, and I’d get the money.
That night I started getting suspicious. I doubted that the guys would follow through with getting the parts for me. I was also suspiciousabout the opaque coat of wax that was covering the bumper, that they had told me to leave on “for 24 hours.”
The next morning I woke up and soaked a rag in soapy water and began to remove the car wax. It didn’t look that bad, but the paint was obviously not the same color, and certainly not the same gloss. The guys showed up, and I got into their van to go to the body shop with them.7 As we drove away, the driver explained to me, “Joshua, if I take you to the auto shop, I’m going to lose my job.” He had a somewhat flimsy-sounding excuse that I saw right through, but it was now two against one in someone else’s car. They certainly had the upper hand, and I was a intimidated. I was talked into giving them a tip, “like we had talked about,” even though we hadn’t, it was just something he had brought up the day before. I went in and withdrew $740 from my account and $300 from my mother’s account, for which she had given me her ATM card. I gave them the $740 — that’s $700 for this job, plus a “tip”. We went back to the house, and he showed me where the bumper would attach on the Escort, and how easy it was. Their friend from the scrapyard would come by and could put the bumper on in about 5 minutes.8 He would come by later that day. After a bit of cajoling, I ended up parting with the $300 as well.9
After they left, I started to get the feeling of a pit in the middle of my stomach. I just knew I’d been conned. Reluctantly, sheepishly, I called the number he had given me. No such number. I called telephone information and asked for a listing for A-1 Auto Body in Pasadena. No such place. Shit.
I even waited home for the rest of the day, in case the guys from the body shop came by. But of course they didn’t.
Follow-up: Their repaired bumper popped back off the next week. I never saw the guys again. My mom had to have work done on the Escort to fix the “repair” the guys did. And since then four more guys have approached me in parking lots offering to fix my bumper. To the last one I just sighed and said “Your the fifth fucking guy who’s asked me, dude, giveit a rest.”
The loss: $740 (me), $300 (my mom), several workday hours, and the entirety of a Saturday.
- Stupid. Why the hell did I tell them how much they quoted. I think these guys would have done it for $50.
- Common: the hard, immediate sell.
- Also common. Watch for people who try to con you based on your religious or political beliefs.
- Stupid, stupid. Don’t tell scammers where you live.
- Yeah, they’re nice. Scammers won’t make any money if they’re not nice.
- I have no idea if this is true or not, but it sounds really unlikely.
- Stupid, stupid, stupid! Getting into their car? What’s wrong with me?
- Again, unlikely, in retrospect, but they couldn’t have scammed me if I knew more about cars, could they?
- Aargh. Stupid-to-the-fourth power. How did they get the $300 from me?
The “I’m a little short for the bus” scam (2003)
Setting: Old Town Pasadena, California, an alley between shops.
A simple, quick one. A guy stops me and says, “I’m a little short for the bus, could you spare a quarter?” Of course it’s a scam, but oh well. I hand him a quarter. “In fact, I’m short by fifty cents, so if you have another one that would be great.” Sigh. I hand himanother quarter and walk off.
The loss: $0.50 and a bit of self respect.
The “You’re approved for a credit card!” scam (1998)
The setting: Thousand Oaks, California
This one is common. I was in my first apartment, my senior year of college. I was desperately short on funds, as I was only working half-time. I received an enticement for a free credit card with perhaps a $39.95 sign-up fee. Did I mention that would have been my first credit card, too? I signed up and sent in a check, expecting my Visa or Mastercard. Instead, I get an “in-house” credit card from a catalogue-based sellerhawking its own overpriced items by mail-order. I call customer service, livid. They send me a refund check.
The loss: $0, thankfully, but it could have been $39.95. At least they were honest crooks.
The “Free access, just use your credit card to verify your age” scam (1999)
Setting: Global
I wanted to visit an access-controlled website. “Just enter your card number, we won’t charge you, it’s just to verify your age.” So I entered my bank check card number, and got access to the site, which sucked. And sure enough, I got charged, I believe $19.95. I called my bank and complained, and they gave a provisional credit. They sent a form to fill out for credit card fraud, which needed to be notarized.
I paid $15 for a notary fee and $0.33 for a stamp, and mailed it in to recoup my $19.95, which netted me $4.62 of my own money back for an hour of my time.
The loss: $15.33 plus an hour of time, valued at that time at around $22.
The Unsuccessful Scams
The “I’ll give you my eyeglasses for collateral!” scam (1995)
Setting: Santa Anita Mall, Arcadia, California
This one is absolutely priceless. I was at the Santa Anita mall in Arcadia, and I was in my late teens. There was a stocky black man (This will become important in a moment. I’m white. This will also become important in a moment.) in strong Clark Kent glasses outside B. Dalton Books. He asked me if I could help him with bus fare. “Sure,” I said. “OK, I need $48 to take Greyhound back to Northern California.
I’ll mail it back to you when I get there,” he said. I balked. “I thought you meant $2.25 for local bus fare,” I croaked. “I’m not goingto give you $48.” It was a moot point. I didn’t have $48. I didn’t even have an ATM card. But he launched into this very well-rehearsed sob story.
The gist of it, as I remember through the haze of almost a decade, was this. He worked for a company that worked with racetracks. He had come down with his boss to the Santa Anita racetrack to help organize something, with his boss. His boss, an asshole of some garden variety, was called back home, and he left the victim to straighten things out. But he had left him stranded, and if he didn’t show up onwork on Monday, he’d be fired.
“Now, you’re probably thinking I’m a criminal because I’m black,” he said. “But I’m not. I’ll give you my eyeglasses as collateral!” It was at that moment I realized that his absurd eyeglasses must have been from a Salvation Army or a ShareOld Spectacles program.
“No, I’m sorry, but good luck,” I said.
“Well then, can I have the $2.25?”
“No!”
The follow-up: My friend told me he had been approached as well. I saw the same guy two more times in front of that same store, wearing a different pair of absurd eyeglasses each time. I guess some heartless bastard took the poor guy’s eyeglasses for collateral. The third andlast time I found a security guard and told them what he was doing.
The tow truck scam (1997)
The setting: Movie theater parking lot, Santa Monica, California
This is a really common one, I’m told. A well-dressed white woman in her mid-thirties, appearing to be upper-middle-class, approached me and told me her friend’s car had brokendown. They didn’t have AAA and they needed a tow, and she was looking for $20.
“Where’s the car?”
“Around the corner.”
“Can I see it?”
“It’s down a ways.”
“I’m sorry, I don’t have $20.” It was a lie, but she was lying too, so fuck her.
“But you just came out of a movie theater!”
“Yeah, I used a credit card.” Another lie. But fuck her again.
“Well, could you go by an ATM?”
What the fuck? If there’s an ATM, why doesn’t she use it?
“No,” I said. “I’m leaving now.”
The “I’m a little short for the bus” scam, redux (2003)
Setting: Old Town Pasadena, California, an alley between shops.
Another simple, quick one. A guy stops me and says, “I’m a little short for the bus, could you spare a quarter?” Sound familiar? Yeah, same guy, the very next weekend.
“Oh, that’s really unlucky, ” I said. “Two weeks in a row, huh?”
He broke eye contact with me and walked away. Heaven help him if he tries again. I have the perfect esprit de l’escalier planned. It will entail being a bit of an asshole, but I’m looking forward to it.
The “save the whales” scam
Location: Faneuil Hall, Boston, Massachusetts (1997)
This was on my first pilgrimage to Concord. I was outside Faneuil Hall and was approached by a white man in his forties with a big bushy beard. He carried a clipboard, the top sheet of which had some cut-out whale pictures photocopied into a collage on it. He asked ifI would sign a petition to help protect whales and other sea mammals on the coast of New England.
“I’m not a registered voter in Massachusetts,” I told him. He told me it didn’t matter, this was a public action campaign.
OK. I signed his form. Then he asked for a donation.
I laughed. “I’m not going to give you money,” I said.
“But I thought you wanted to help the whales!” he said.
“Look, I don’t know you. I don’t know anything about you.”
“What, you think I’m ripping you off?”
I walked away.
“Well, thanks for being an asshole!” he called after me.
So I found a security guard. “There’s a guy over there soliciting and using profanity,” I said, and described him. They hurried over.
The food scams
These are maybe the saddest. People are apparently hungry. You want to help, you really do. But in the end, it’s a dirty, thankless business.
The Mikey scam (1996)
Setting: Pasadena, California, on a hot summer day.
There is a local character (for the record, he’s white) named Mikey who always stands on the same street corner asking for change. He has cerebral palsy and is mentally retarded, and seems like a nice but down-on-his-luck guy. He also smokes, but that’s another story.
One day I was driving by and felt sorry for the guy. But I didn’t want him spending the money on booze or cigarettes. So I went across thestreet to Burger King, where they were having a 99 cent Whopper promotion and bought him one.
“Yo, Mikey,” I said, driving back. “I got you a sandwich!”
He grinned widely.
“A Whopper?”
“Yep,” I said.
“Great! Hey, you have any change?”
Sigh. “Yes, Mikey,” I said, “I’ve got some change.” I handed him about a dollar.
What’s that they say? In for a penny, in for a pound?
The loss: About a dollar.
The “piece of cake” scam (1997)
The setting: Vons parking lot, Thousand Oaks, California
A poorly-dressed, hungry-looking white woman in her late fifties or early sixties approached me as I left the grocery store, looking fortaxi fare to Newbury Park (the adjoining city). It was late. She looked tired. She looked hungry. She looked devoid of life.
“Look,” I said, “I’m not going to give you any money, but I’ll buy you dinner if you want.”
She agreed.
We went to the deli area of the supermarket and she picked out a “po’ boy” sandwich. The we went to the dairy case and she picked out a pint of milk. I turnedto walk her to the checkout line.
“Wait,” she said. “I’m going to go get a piece of cake.”
WHAT THE FUCK? I’m going to go get a piece of CAKE? Aargh! If you are a heartless bastard like me, or are rapidly becoming one, tattoo that motherfucker to the inside of your eyelids, then any time you’re approached for money, just blink. I was pissed.
“No, you most certainly are not,” I said. “Now do you want the food or not?”
She started pouting, but followed as I marched up to the checkout line. I took out $5 and set it on the counter as I walked by. Thecashier didn’t understand.
I jerked my thumb back. “It’s for her food.”
“Oh, that’s really nice of you!” she said.
I smiled thinly. “Yeah, thanks.” I walked off.
The loss: $5, and my remaining faith in humanity.
The Church’s Chicken dude (2004)
I was taking my father to a concert in Inglewood, California. Within three quarters of a mile — this sounds like a bad racist joke, but I swear I’mnot making it up — there were five fried chicken restaurants. One of them was Church’s. I like Church’s, so my father and I stopped there. On my way in I was asked by a fifty-or-so-year-old black man for change so he could “buy a piece of chicken.”. I told him no. We ordered more chicken than we could eat,though, so on the way out I asked if he was hungry.
“Yeah,” he said.
“You can have this chicken if you’re hungry,” I said.
“OK. Hey, you got any change.”
“No. But if you’re hungry, you can have this chicken.”
“OK.”
As we drove off, the box was sitting beside him unopened. In my father’s words, “I guess he’s looking for a beer to go with it.”
I hope he ate it. I’d have eaten it the next day myself if he didn’t want it.
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