Thalia Huntley

My favorite thing about cons is that they think what they do is harmless. That all they do is part a few fools from their money. What really elevates their sense of self is that others call them “con artists.” Artists. As though they make an art out of scamming the ignorant, too-trusting masses. Putting them on a level with poets and painters. Shameful. Except that the sociopath, the predator inside me likes to play with them, like a cat does with a bird. Is that wrong?

It’s almost like meeting a new lover. There’s a little awkwardness at first, those pesky introductions. But it begins like the first steps of a dance.

First comes a friend request from someone I’ve never met and never spoken with, online or anywhere else. Every con must begin with a ‘yes.’ This is when I scent my prey and, if I find myself bored enough, accept the request and engage.

Hello. How are you?

Fine, thanks.

Where do you live?

This question seems innocent enough, but for every piece of information I give, the more ground the con thinks they’ve gained with me. Sometimes I make up an answer, and sometimes I decline to give any info at all. It’s fun for me to watch them trip up a little when I refuse to follow the prescribed steps of mannerly introductions. Most cons rely on the manners and propriety of their prey to gain advantage. Friendly people say ‘yes.’ Nice people say ‘yes.’ But what they don’t know is that I’m not prey. To me, they are a game, like Minesweeper.

Are you interested in investing? / Do you know what a Sugar Daddy is? / Are you familiar with bitcoin or cryptocurrency? / Would you be able to help me?

Anyone who hasn’t already decided to ignore or even block the con will likely be making that decision right now. I don’t blame them. It is generally better to be safe and avoid these people altogether. I, however, equivocate.

What kind of investing? / No. What is that? / I’ve heard of it, but I’m not sure what to do to invest. / What do you need?

To the con, this is the most important ‘yes’ of all. They believe that if I am willing to respond to them, they can get whatever they want from me. But I put them off. Not a direct refusal. No, that ends the game before it’s begun. I tell them I’m not willing to give out my information because they could be a scammer.

I’m not a scam. I promise. This is for real. Honest. No scam here. I’m a real person, not a scam. This isn’t a fake account.

Of course it isn’t.

I say I’m busy and I can’t talk just now. And the same the next day, and on and on, until I can see them getting frustrated or annoyed. My personal record is nearly two weeks. They can still smell the information they think I’ll give them. They’ve got themselves a nice person. I said yes, and I keep telling them, ‘not yet.’ Finally, I say I’m interested. Give me more information, I say. I treat it almost like an interview, asking thoughtful questions, to let them know I think I’m smart enough to keep up with them. But I make sure to ask plenty of questions, give them the chance to wow me with their pitch. I tell them I need to think about it, and I’ll let them know soon.

But the funniest part is how condescending most of these cons are. They don’t seem to be capable of avoiding it. The obsequious, bumbling attempts at flattery. The stumbling, mistake-riddled grammar that proves English is not their first language, but they blunder on bravely, working to cement the impression that I am the benevolent American doing them a great favor…if I say yes. They call me “sweetie,” “gorgeous,” “my dear,” “dearest,” etc. as though we’re the best of friends, the tenderest of lovers. They profess to me their devout Christianity, how they pray every day, how they praise God for their blessings and they’re just trying to pass those blessings on to me. Funny how I believe that they do…prey…every day…but with a distinctly different vowel in the middle of the word. I lay the return flattery on thickly, how I believe them, how they clearly have a kind and giving heart, and what a blessing they are. What a humanitarian thing to do, giving all this money away, helping the less financially liquid gain more money. What a Godsend.

The investment tycoons want to assure me that money is a spiritual thing, it is a transference of energy, flowing from one source to the next. Changing, as energy does, from one form to another, never diminishing. But they are always very clear about how I’m not investing with them, I’m investing in my future. A small amount now, and big rewards later.

The Sugar Daddy wants my banking information so he can deposit money for me to live on and all he wants is for me to love him in return. Not even asking for sex, just love. I’m an old man and I make plenty to take care of my family. I just want to take care of you, too. I don’t want sexy pictures, just a picture every day to show me how much you love me. I will pay you every week. You won’t have to worry about anything ever again. Just give me your banking information and call me Daddy. How can you say this is a scam when I want to bless you? This hurts my heart to see that you don’t trust me. Baby, you know I love you and I will be your guide in all forms, to be there to give you riches forever more. (That last sentence is a direct quote.) Never mind that our acquaintance began a day and a half ago, this is true love and all he wants is to give me unsolicited money in exchange for my banking information? Wait, let me just look up my routing number.

The financial advisor who wants me to invest in bitcoin is also a devout Christian, just like Donald Trump, and all they want to do is help me make hundreds of thousands of dollars in only one week. The minimum to invest is five hundred, but they would recommend more if I can afford it. What’s the problem? It’s only five hundred dollars. Why can’t I raise that little bit? Why did I say I was interested if I don’t have the money? I like you already, so I’ll help you out. If it seems like a good idea to you, why don’t you put in just three hundred, and I’ll put in two hundred? Ah, that classic overture, “I like you, so I’ll make you a deal.” How charitable.

This is usually the part when I lose interest. I’m not out to catch a criminal, though undoubtedly I am speaking with just such an individual. I have no way of finding out their real identities or back-tracing any of their communications. They all, invariably, use an app that facilitates the same features as a regular smart phone such as Whatsapp or Hangout, which are legitimate apps. But from previous personal experience, far removed from the relative safety of the internet, I know that once a con thinks they have enough of your information, they don’t care about any of that ridiculous flattery or whether you had a good night or how your husband or wife is doing. They will do all they can to take all available money you have and threaten you until they feel satisfied they’ve bled you dry and that you’re too afraid of them to try and get justice, much less revenge. I have no interest in taking these little interactions that far, and I’m by no means stupid enough to give them any real information for the sake of what is, to me, a game.

That’s all this is for me. A way to pass the time and waste a few days of theirs. I get a few kicks watching them dangle on the hook for a little while, like re-watching my favorite old show. I suppose, in some way or other, it serves to flatter my own ego, a would-be predator of other predators. As I said earlier, it’s no more to me than a cat batting at a bird, just for the fun of it. It makes me feel smart and just a little powerful, perhaps how they feel when they think they’ve caught themselves a meal. So I tell them no, I’m not interested after all. I’ve changed my mind and I don’t think I’ll take that “free” money. I just don’t feel comfortable investing at this time.

But they wouldn’t be a successful con by walking away at the first ‘no.’ They got me to say ‘yes’ once, and they’re more determined now to get me to do it again. They want to know why would I turn down “free” money? Don’t I want to be rich like Donald Trump? Don’t I love them? Don’t I believe they love me? Don’t I believe they want to help me?

I refuse them again, a little more firmly. This is the part where I get bored, because I know that they’re not going to stop until I report them and block them. The game is over for me. So rather than drag out this last part, I go ahead and report them, usually for harassment because at this point I’ve told them ‘no’ more than once. Often more than twice. Why can’t cons just learn to lose gracefully? I’ve had my fun. I strung them along for a bit, watching how they artlessly apply the simple steps of every confidence game, and now the game is finished. There isn’t really any kind of winning per se, just a sort of comforting sense of, “Yes, that went exactly how I thought it would.” I’ve validated my skills, I’ve recognized them for what they are, and now I’m walking away. I whisper to myself as I block their profile, “I see you.”