A Scam About Nothing

It’s hard to imagine there are many people who haven’t seen an episode of Seinfeld, a show that ended its glorious nine season run in 1998. Even if you’ve only caught a handful of episodes in reruns or on streaming services, odds are you’ve picked up on some of the classic references that have become a part of our popular culture over the last three decades.

But maybe they don’t get Seinfeld in Nigeria.

Shortly before Thanksgiving, I got an e-mail that, at first glance, seemed suspicious. As a person who wears a variety of professional hats, it wasn’t out of the ordinary for someone to inquire about catering and in-home personal chef services. I’m certainly no chef — I offer my daily scorched oatmeal as proof — but one of the many (legal and moral) things I do for money is book staff members for private events.

But something wasn’t quite right about this request and, after some initial queries, our exchange devolved — on my part — into a cacophony of Seinfeld references that would determine whether this would-be scammer knew a double-dipper from an anti-dentite. (Not that there’s anything wrong with that.)

So put on your Himalyan walking shoes, steal a marble rye and get ready for worlds to collide. You bastards are in for a wild ride.

Giddyup!

For starters, this guy is a horrible speller. Not only is he looking for “serviecs,” but he claims his name is Craig, yet somehow managed to misspell it when he created his e-mail address. Sort of like how Jerry sometimes spells his name with a G.

… and an i!

Okay “Criag,” I’ll play along.

He was quick to respond.

And there’s the dead give away. How have scammers not yet learned that Americans never say kindly? I mean, we barely say please… we never say kindly.

At this point, I’m fully aware this dude is a scammer. But I do my due diligence and send him the menu regardless. Who knows, there’s teeny tiny chance he might actually be a client with a lot of money but no grammatical sense.

Soup? Soup’s not a meal.

How much will that eclectic menu cost? Beats me… I just made up a number.

Oh no! A little favor. Is Pretty Boy gonna ask me to help him move?!?

What’s next? Driving him to the airport?

Here’s how this scam works. The credit card number is real, but it’s stolen. If I were to run the $6,100, the charge would intially go through as a legitimate transaction. Criag is then hoping I’ll send him $5,000 thinking everything is on the up and up. But soon after I give him that money, the credit card company will get word of the fraudulent use, and reverse the $6,100 charge. I will have just given him $5k of my own money, with no legal recourse to get it back.

Him being “in hospital” with an undisclosed “condition” is just designed as sympathetic icing on a bullshit cake.

It was supposed to be the Summer of Criag!

Naturally, I want him to think he’s got a sucker fish on the hook.

So here’s where the fun begins. I’ve always figured that if I were ever to be kidnapped by terrorists and forced to record a hostage video, I’d drop an Art Vandalay reference in there so that everyone back home would know I’m being forced to lie. Surely someone, somewhere would figure that out. So naturally, if I’m going to offer up a fake company name, there’s only one that will do.

I cross my fingers and hope Criag doesn’t catch on to the ruse.

It’s not a lie… if you believe it.

Yes! He bought it! Now it’s time to take the Seinfun to another level.

He’s a Julliard-trained dermatologist

At this point, I don’t really feel like drawing up an actual invoice. I’m hoping Criag will ignore my general overall Constanzaesque laziness and accept this half-hearted attempt to get his “business.”

I’m more than happy to carry on with this charade, though.

Sadly, Susie is about to be… eliminated.

Good choice! Our bagel guy trained at Julliard, too.

Now it’s about to get real. Criag gives me a credit card number, hoping I’ll take the bait.

I do. Just not the way he’s hoping.

Instead, I call American Express and let them know what’s happening. They thank me and immediately block the card and notify the actual cardholder.

Of course, I tell Criag a different story.

If he’s curt, he apologizes.

You can just sense the anticipation in Criag’s response. He thinks he’s soooo close to getting an easy five grand. But something’s off.

Hmmmmm…. I wonder what that could be.

Gotta find a charity and toss around some of that Jerk Store company money

But I suppose it’s no more unprofessional than sleeping with a guy’s coma wife.

So perhaps this is where I become the Jerk’s Store’s all-time best seller. I was going to block Criag’s e-mail address in the following exchange. But you know what? Screw that guy! Feel free to bombard his e-mail account with Seinfeld references of your own. I’m guessing he probably has multiple e-mail addresses, so it probably won’t hurt him all that much. But it may annoy the hell out of him, if only for a little while.

If that makes me the Jerk Store’s top product… so be it.

You either get it… or you get OUT

Quite frankly, I’m flabbergasted that this guy is still buying my shtick, so I figure I might as well throw references at him at rapid fire speed. If the light bulb goes off, well, it’s been fun. If it doesn’t…. things are about to become even funner!

I got a lotta problems with you people!
(Scammers, that is)

Uh oh… that may have done it. Craig appears to have stopped responding.

Perhaps I went overboard with Sidra’s real and spectactular “fluffy cakes” (Jackie Chiles approves!) Or maybe it was the feats and the grievances. Either way, Criag may not be as gullible as he thinks I am.

Disappointed but undaunted, I continue the correspondence with a bit of bad news for my charlatan pen pal.

Criag proceded to tell my Nana to drop dead

Yes! Still in the game! Let’s see if we can make this even more absurd.

I tell you, at that moment, I was a marine biologist

Uh oh! He wants a receipt that I don’t actually have. Fortunately, Criag seems to be susceptible to not-so-clever ruses.

Think she’s cute? Wait ’til you meet her sister Bovary

Ah, yes… it’s my fault. I didn’t follow his instuctions, but instead did exactly what he said to do. That makes perfect sense. Criag, please don’t piss on my leg then tell me it’s raining… okay?

Fortunately, he was able to scrounge up his “business credit card.”

And once again, I call the credit card company and report the fraud. This time it’s Discover and like before, they cancel this card before any further damage is done.

This guy seems like a bit of a… well… you know

Personal note: I hate it when I send a text or an e-mail and discover that I’ve made a typo. It’s not so much that I’m a grammar, well, Nazi… It’s just that even the smallest error in copy can destroy the timing of a joke. (Very few of my texts and e-mails are serious in nature). Such is the case in the next exchange where I meant to say “I can stuff my sorries in a sack.” I guess I’ll just consider this my Moops moment.

I’m sorry… the card says sorties

Here we are at another long break between responses from Criag. I’m almost certain that, by now, he’s figured it out that I’m not even remotely sincere. I mean, come on… he hasn’t received any word that his credit cards were charged, despite my two alleged attempts to do so. Surely he’s on to me… right?

Nevertheless, I persisted. And I took a different tone. Time to be the alpha in this cyber relationship.

Wait til you see their bit for Mastercard Theatre

OMG! He’s still hanging in there! And he obviously thinks I think there’s something called “card brokers.”

Time to fan the flames a bit. And you know what they say, if you can’t stand the heat, run screaming and pushing your way through children out of the kitchen.

Still beats a regular ol’ baseball game at Citi Field any day

He also wouldn’t stop talking about The English Patient. Ugh!

Ah, yes… the ol’ “under auditing” excuse. That’s always 100% totally believable.

Amazingly, he hasn’t written me off yet. In fact, here he comes with yet another credit card.

By now you know how this goes. I call the “card broker,” inform them of the attempted fraud and they cancel the card. I then continue playing dumb with Criag.

This seriously is gold, Jerry!

Here’s where I think poor Criag has fallen prey to the Sunk Cost Fallacy. That’s the tendency to continue down a path that, on some level, you recognize as destructive, simply because you’ve already invested so much time, money or energy. You see gamblers do this all the time at the Blackjack or Craps tables, choosing to chase bad losses with good money instead of quitting while they’re not-as-far-behind.

Interestingly enough, you would think Criag would be familiar with this phenomenon, since he’s most likely relying on me to act the same way. I guess the con man doesn’t recognize the con.

Fortunately, my friend sped home to stop me from committing suicide

CashApp yes. What’sApp? Oooh… that’ll cost ya a hundred bucks!

Obviously there’s no way that I’m sending him any ApplePay money, but I do need some sort of receipt. Fortunately there’s a variety of online invoice and receipt generators that allow you to create fictitious — but authentic looking — company documents. Those sites seem pretty shady — I mean what are those fake invoices for? But in this partular instance, I’m using a fraudulent tool to actually fight fraud. (Note the name of the payment processor.)

Criag doesn’t respond right away, so I’m a bit concerned my 2-minute invoice hasn’t done the trick. But I’m cautiously optimistic because he’s fallen for everything else up til now.

Sorry, no money. The doctor stole my wallet!

Much to my Machiavellian pleasure, Criag hasn’t given up on me.

Actually, the crew doing all the cleaning is the best part

Sadly, my makeshift CashApp receipt wasn’t all that convicing. Maybe I shouldn’t have trusted Mr. Kruger to send it.

Oh no he d’in’t!

Ron also likes his chicken spicy

Uh oh… Criag recognizes that he may have crossed a line. He almost jeopardized the money that he’s never gonna get.

I give him the silent treatment for a bit. Make him sweat.

But I don’t make him sweat too much. It’s the Festivus season, after all.

Buttered to perfection!

I can only imagine that Criag is constantly hitting refresh… refresh… refresh. Hoping against all odds that my CashApp payment will eventually show up. I take subversive pleasure knowing that I’ve repeatedly shattered his spirit.

Can you believe we stole him from Kramerica Industries?!?

Surely that was the one that clued Criag in on what was happening. I mean, I talked about Festivus, pretzels, Myanmar (Burma) and my intern Darin. Either he thinks I’m batshit crazy or he’s the dumbest scammer ever.

How is this simpleton still not getting it???

Yup…. Dumbest. Scammer. EVER!

Not only that, I was surrounded by copies of Glamour magazine

As much fun as this has been, I can’t keep the writing fresh and entertaining comedy for too much longer. So instead of allowing the material to grow stale and predictable, it’s time to start winding this show down.

Criag, meanwhile, is still on the hook.

Criag wants you to send Craig his payment now.

Craig doesn’t like it when Craig doesn’t get money.

Criag is getting angry!

Great question, Criag! And now for our big surprise….

Presenting: The finale!

You’re also a bad speller. Very very bad speller!

Now, you would think a scammer like Criag wouldn’t give me the benefit of a response. But, as we’ve seen throughout this whole project, logical moves aren’t his strong suit.

Man, oh man… if only I could think of the perfect response!

Wait for it…

And thus ends this strange, erotic journey from Milan to Minsk. Not gonna lie… I couldn’t have asked for a more perfect ending. Time to put on my beltless trench coat, board the Ted Danson plane and get out of Latham, Massachusetts in style!