Swept from the corners of my mind…
Do you ever get tired of being vigilant? As a woman I grew up with my keys between my fingers while walking at night. I’ve trained myself to (mostly) be alert. I don’t think about it, I just sweep my eyes around and swing my keys as I stroll along.
Driving, I peer left-right-left before crossing the intersection, often checking mirrors to see what is going on. I even LOOK when I shoulder check. Ditches are scanned for kamikaze wildlife. Footing is evaluated as I waddle like a penguin over potentially icy surfaces. I’m even so old that I grasp bannisters to make sure I don’t tumble down (or up) stairs.
To keep my soul intact I try to avoid doomscrolling. To keep my brain from atrophy I read and try to often learn new skills. Phone calls don’t get answered if I don’t recognize the number unless I am waiting for a call from a doctor or someone else, I know has a blocked number. While I am a failure at preventing major health crises, I try to keep safe mentally, physically, emotionally, and spiritually.
I consider myself fairly savvy at avoiding scams or someone taking advantage of me, while still believing that there are more good people in the world than bad. I like to give people the benefit of the doubt, but I check return emails and report phishing emails. I’ve never been catfished because I don’t use the internet for romance. I don’t like using my credit card on line, preferring something like PayPal to be a buffer between me and the unscrupulous vender. All in all, I figure I’m fairly alert.
But over Christmas it’s hard to stay aware. You want to get suitable presents for those you care about, and the algorithms know what you look at. You’re inundated with appealing things, and ordering online is a boon for those who work–even more so for those of us who hate to shop. This Christmas was the first I recall being scammed as an online shopper.
I went outside my usual “basically safe” sites and ordered my daughter a neat electric blanket with foot pockets and a zipper. Perfect for cuddling up for a night of TV. I also ordered my grandson a 3D pen so he could start building his own items. As Christmas approached tension rose. Where were the darn items? I went back to check on when I’d ordered.
Hmmm… neither item has an acknowledgement of payment, nor a projected delivery date. As I was stewing over what that meant, an email came from the blanket company. They had way more orders than they’d expected so shipments were delayed. A support email was provided if I had questions. I sure did—when was it coming? Would it be here for Christmas? I’d ordered it mid-November.
The reply was a copy of the first email—lots of orders and delays. I gave up, assuming I’d been “had by the ad” and got a different gift for her. Last week (a month after Christmas) a package arrived for my daughter. Yes, it was a soft pink throw blanket, but no zipper, or foot pockets, or electric heat. I never heard anything from the 3D pen company, so they just took the money and ran. I was had by the ad.
It happened again this morning. I was hurrying to a meeting and my cell rang. It was a PA number and instead of letting it go to voicemail as I usually do, I answered. A recorded voice said it was VISA and that there were two new charges totalling over 1600 dollars, and to press ‘1’ it I didn’t recognize the charges. Stupidly, I did. A man asked me the purpose of the call. Slowly, a brain cell fluttered awake. They called me. Why didn’t he know? Then he asked for the spelling of my name. Synapses snapped. Brain cells erupted in fireworks. Axions and dendrites screamed “abort! Abort the mission!”. Because if VISA was calling, they should know all this.
Before I could give him my name or credit card number or the keys to the magic kingdom, I hung up. Only then did I check my bank app to confirm that neither of those charges existed, and I recalled that the bank doesn’t phone you, they use secure messaging.
Even though I am very aware of all kinds of safety, occasionally to the point of paranoia, I can get caught by the games. So, friends, be alert.
Cathy Bendle finds humor in the quirks of everyday life, from training teachers to dodging housework. When not writing, she’s either laughing at her pets, frantically Googling for her work assignments, or playing on her iPad. Her column appears every other Wednesday.
