Back off, scammers, you’re barking up the wrong tree
Have I got SUCKER tatooed on my forehead? Or a big bulls-eye and the words “easy target” pinned to my back?
Not last time I checked, but that doesn’t stop the scammers from trying some very obvious tricks to part me from my cash.
The lonely Russian girls have finally given up after coming to the conclusion I wasn’t their passport to a new life of riches - but their Russian Mafia bosses and Nigerian cousins haven’t.
I’ve had a series of calls in the last couple of weeks claiming to be from a service tech centre, saying they’ve detected a problem with my computer. Well sorry, but I’ve heard that one.
With a heavy foreign accent, I told the first female caller: “You’re barking up the wrong tree”. Stunned silence as she probably flipped through pages of an English dictionary trying to understand what I had just said.
She gave up. “Pardon?”
“Not interested, ‘bye!”.
One or two similar calls before a male tried his luck. “Is that Mr Mee-kul-sun? We have been detecting problems with your computer…”
I thought I’d have a bit of fun, so I try to mimick his thick accent.
“Yes, you seem to have some cookies and virus infections…”
“And what are you wanting to do about that?” I ask in my best impersonation of an operator from the TV show, “Mumbai Calling”.
Mrs Mikko is trying to control herself as she can hear all this on speakerphone but neither of us can stop laughing when he replies, “I am wanting to take some of your money…”
An honest answer but I tell him, “Nice try mate, but not today or ever”.
Maybe they got the message - try a different scam. So I received some emails from “Commonwealth Bank of Australia” telling me my online account had been “restricted” and to log on to have the restrictions lifted.
Nice try again, but I don’t have any CBA account.
A couple of days later they roll out the big guns and I receive a message from “The World Bank”. Either they think there is a lot of money in freelance journalism (ha!) or they’ve mistaken me for an international arms dealer.
Every now and then other emails pop up inviting me to log on to a freight company to detect the whereabouts of an undelivered parcel, or seek a refund. Boring!
Sometimes I almost miss those emails from Annushka, Svetlana and their beautiful pals, telling me all Russian men are vodka-soaked pigs.
Maybe they Skyped Mrs M by mistake.
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