I’ve never understood how some people fall for scams that cause them to lose their hard earned money.
Long before it made local news, I would open business mail that came from a high-placed government official in Africa – most times from Nigeria – who needed to use my bank account to transfer excess money from the sale of equipment, jewelry, oil, or some other precious resource – and my reward would be a cut of the funds.
The more “honest” letter writers, or the ones who couldn’t be bothered to make up a story about where the funds came from, would just ask for the use of my bank account in which to place an obscene amount of money – and my reward would be a cut of the funds.
The only thing more annoying than the letter writer’s assumption about my stupidity and willingness to ignore the padded contracts, was the awful grammar, syntax and punctuation that was weaved throughout the correspondence. I’m no English teacher but I did consider making the corrections and sending the letter back.
I was reminded of this scam when I viewed a parody of these types of letters that a person was receiving via email. The person showed us (hilariously) how to get the letters to stop, and that’s when I realized that the scammers, not surprisingly, had moved on from paper letters to electronic mail. Unfortunately, the spelling’s still bad.
And that’s another thing I didn’t understand. Didn’t all those grammatical errors give the readers some pause? I mean, for that alone I wouldn’t give them any information. Suppose they didn’t transcribe it correctly? Then where would my promised money go?
A few weeks ago I received a call to my cell phone from a woman who told me that the package I ordered had arrived and that she needed to get my address which she should have had (emphasis mine) – to facilitate delivery. The grammar was good, but the accent was a dead giveaway.
What she didn’t know is that despite all the online shopping that’s taking place here, she picked the one person who hasn’t ordered anything in years. Nonetheless, I played along and asked her for the name on her delivery slip. She asked me to hold on, and I waited while she rustled a few papers, called out to someone who may or may not have been nearby, and murmured to herself. She attempted to invent some legitimacy by repeating my phone number, as if that was just what I needed to hear to give her more information.
She was unable to find a name and assured me that she would call me back.
I know. I should have put her out of her misery sooner.