Fucking with Scammers/Wrong Numbers

[shortkut]

Sometimes I get texts from scammers or wrong numbers. I choose to interact with them. Here are some more recent interactions… I don’t think I have any older ones saved

1.

​

2.

​

3.

​

 

[A Slightly New Used Server]

I never respond to the texts. The most recent one was:

Hi Kelly, my grandma just passed away and I miss you so much in this difficult situation .

Wouldn't have been the most fun one to respond to, it seems.

 

[shortkut]

That third one is great.

I've always thought of doing this but then get lazy.

When I get a phone call claiming my social security number has been hacked/stolen I always get super excited and ask for my number. I’ve recently immigrated from Canada and I e been waiting for my social security number to be assigned. They always get confused and annoyed. One time the guy even yelled at me for wasting his time because I kept him on the phone for 20 minutes

 

[Crystal]

You are a genius! Keep doing it!

 

[Kat]

Honestly that sounds like a lot of fun.

My phone has built in scam/spam detection. I don't remember the last time I got something like that.

Same. That third one is gold, and it does look like fun, but I think I'll take my complete lack of spam instead.

When I worked retail, we'd regularly get people pulling scams. One time I answered the phone and somebody claimed they got several bags of someone else's groceries along with that person's receipt. They gave a very detailed list of what they mistakenly received, and apologized for being unable to come back to the store to return it, but hoped their call would help whoever it was get their groceries replaced.

I asked a bunch of questions, asked them several times to slow down so I could write down everything, and assured them I'd help if the other customer reached out. They must've felt good about it, because a minute after I hung up, they called back to add a few more snacks to the list.

Ten minutes later, somebody else calls saying they left a bunch of groceries and their receipt must've been in one of those bags. They asked if anybody had called to report they'd gotten them instead. (Very weird, most people ask if we found the left behind item after they left.) I said no, but luckily we have cameras and can search our computers for transactions, so when they come in we can certainly verify they left stuff and look up exactly what they bought and sort it out.

They have to come in anyway to get their items, this was before grocery delivery was a thing, so it should've been a perfectly fine solution. However they were not happy. They asked a couple more times if I was sure nobody had reported it, I insisted nobody had, and I was the only one answering the phone so I'd definitely know. They hung up all frustrated.

A few minutes later, the first person calls back again, making sure I had gotten the report. I assured them I had it all written down, and even read back the list to them.

The second person called again shortly after, again asking if anyone had reported the missing items. I said sadly no, but we'd happily check the cameras and computers and get them their stuff that way.

Obviously they both knew I was lying, and the frustration in their voices that they couldn't call me out on it without revealing the scam was palpable.

Points for creativity and innovation, but I can't believe they really thought that would work.

 

[Spiner202]

I definitely used to hold the belief that it could be fun to mess with scammers, but nowadays, I think that anybody who really wants your personal information will find a way to get it, so there's no need to aggravate them. I know scammers typically target those who are most gullible, but the payoff of messing with them doesn't seem worth it to me.

My paranoia has increased recently because I'm convinced that the future of scamming will be using AI to deepfake your voice, and all that they will need is a few words from you answering the phone to say hello. My job requires that I answer my phone, but you can always tell a scammer because there is a pause before they actually pick up the line, so I'll usually wait for them to start talking.

 

[canadaguy]

Not a scammer but I once got a number from like new York who just texted me the number 1.

I responded with 2, and it went back and forth for quite a while until they just didn't respond.

I was kinda sad it ended

 

[shortkut]

Not as good, but I liked the fact that I used a Hawaiian Punch gif

 

[Mark]

I gotta get my girl to dig up the screenshots tomorrow, but I basically sent some crackheads on a mission to some random McDonald’s for some crack.

I straight up told them that they had the wrong number from the jump. The first message was talking about wanting more crack because the last shit was inconsistent quality or whatever those fiends babble on about. Naturally, I know where I am… I responded as dismissive as possible, clearly indicating I had nothing to offer JUST IN CASE some rookie cop was fishing for his stripes. I’ve never sold crack a day in my life, but I know better than to even get to the stage of questioning with those kinds of scenarios.

Which brings me to the next point in the story… I was able to figure out quickly that they were, in fact, crackheads and looking to cop. They began telling me how one of the “trash cans” (miniature flip-top containers that kinda resemble trash cans used to package crack for you non-city folk) of “girl” (presumed “safe word” crackheads and dealers use for crack like the DEA and BPD don’t have a whole list of slang at their disposal) was awesome, but the other was no good.

At this point, I realize that these guys aren’t picking up that I’m not the guy they’re looking for… and they’re not cops… so I’m gonna have fun with them. The first thing I do is ask them for a picture of the one that they said was no good, so they sent it. So, I told them I was no longer in the area, if they wanted to meet up they’d have to come to me. They’re fine with that. Game on. First, I sent them to “McDonald’s on Washington Blvd”… Washington Blvd runs from Baltimore to DC, it was the main road between the two before the interstates. They arrive at the first one, one about 5 minutes from me. “Nah, not that one, why the fuck would I be back up there when I said I was headed south?” or something to that effect. Fast-forward 20 minutes, they arrive at the one I told them to meet me at since I let them assume the first destination. I tell them I’m in there, they don’t see me. Of course they don’t. I’m home laughing my ass off. So, I pretend to get frustrated… tell them to stop wasting my fucking time, if they hit my phone on some dumb shit again they’re cut off, tell them I think they got popped and a cop is posing as them, etc. REALLY push my luck, because… why not? So, I get these three (or four, couldn’t tell if the one went on the mission) crackheads peering into a McDonald’s all paranoid, scared to come in because they’re walking on eggshells with their dealer. I make the main one on the phone take a photo, BOOM, perfect shot. Got their reflection in glass, now I can describe what they’re wearing to them like I’m looking right at them. See where this is going?

So, I toyed around with them a bit, making them prove to me that they still had the bad product, that they had the cash to buy more, that they were gonna get reimbursed and get a nice deal. A crackhead’s wet dream. I eventually got preoccupied with something else, so I finally broke down and decided to wrap it up. I abruptly, and seemingly impatiently told them if they wanted anything to stop fucking around and come in and get it or I was leaving. No sooner I sent the message I get a call, I refused to speak “in the restaurant” because of “cameras”. They’re wigging out, they don’t see who they’re looking for. I tell them they’re losing their shit and to stop playing with me… I describe the one to a T thanks to the reflection. That fucked them up. They knew it was real at that point, but they just couldn’t see me. So, I send one final message… “Left it with Bob behind the counter. Don’t tell him anything. Just ask for Bob, when he comes out, he’ll know what you’re there for”

Bob must have been busy. He never came out. I got a bunch of angry messages. They claimed they ran out of gas. Legend has it, they still might be pushing their car up Washington Boulevard now 3 years later.

 

[shortkut]

I gotta get my girl to dig up the screenshots tomorrow, but I basically sent some crackheads on a mission to some random McDonald’s for some crack.

I straight up told them that they had the wrong number from the jump. The first message was talking about wanting more crack because the last shit was inconsistent quality or whatever those fiends babble on about. Naturally, I know where I am… I responded as dismissive as possible, clearly indicating I had nothing to offer JUST IN CASE some rookie cop was fishing for his stripes. I’ve never sold crack a day in my life, but I know better than to even get to the stage of questioning with those kinds of scenarios.

Which brings me to the next point in the story… I was able to figure out quickly that they were, in fact, crackheads and looking to cop. They began telling me how one of the “trash cans” (miniature flip-top containers that kinda resemble trash cans used to package crack for you non-city folk) of “girl” (presumed “safe word” crackheads and dealers use for crack like the DEA and BPD don’t have a whole list of slang at their disposal) was awesome, but the other was no good.

At this point, I realize that these guys aren’t picking up that I’m not the guy they’re looking for… and they’re not cops… so I’m gonna have fun with them. The first thing I do is ask them for a picture of the one that they said was no good, so they sent it. So, I told them I was no longer in the area, if they wanted to meet up they’d have to come to me. They’re fine with that. Game on. First, I sent them to “McDonald’s on Washington Blvd”… Washington Blvd runs from Baltimore to DC, it was the main road between the two before the interstates. They arrive at the first one, one about 5 minutes from me. “Nah, not that one, why the fuck would I be back up there when I said I was headed south?” or something to that effect. Fast-forward 20 minutes, they arrive at the one I told them to meet me at since I let them assume the first destination. I tell them I’m in there, they don’t see me. Of course they don’t. I’m home laughing my ass off. So, I pretend to get frustrated… tell them to stop wasting my fucking time, if they hit my phone on some dumb shit again they’re cut off, tell them I think they got popped and a cop is posing as them, etc. REALLY push my luck, because… why not? So, I get these three (or four, couldn’t tell if the one went on the mission) crackheads peering into a McDonald’s all paranoid, scared to come in because they’re walking on eggshells with their dealer. I make the main one on the phone take a photo, BOOM, perfect shot. Got their reflection in glass, now I can describe what they’re wearing to them like I’m looking right at them. See where this is going?

So, I toyed around with them a bit, making them prove to me that they still had the bad product, that they had the cash to buy more, that they were gonna get reimbursed and get a nice deal. A crackhead’s wet dream. I eventually got preoccupied with something else, so I finally broke down and decided to wrap it up. I abruptly, and seemingly impatiently told them if they wanted anything to stop fucking around and come in and get it or I was leaving. No sooner I sent the message I get a call, I refused to speak “in the restaurant” because of “cameras”. They’re wigging out, they don’t see who they’re looking for. I tell them they’re losing their shit and to stop playing with me… I describe the one to a T thanks to the reflection. That fucked them up. They knew it was real at that point, but they just couldn’t see me. So, I send one final message… “Left it with Bob behind the counter. Don’t tell him anything. Just ask for Bob, when he comes out, he’ll know what you’re there for”

Bob must have been busy. He never came out. I got a bunch of angry messages. They claimed they ran out of gas. Legend has it, they still might be pushing their car up Washington Boulevard now 3 years later.

That’s the stuff of legends

 

[Mark]

That’s the stuff of legends

It happened REGULARLY for a span of about 3-4 months after I got a new phone number, apparently the dude that had it before me was a dealer. By the time that shit happened, I had already fucked up a crackhead hotel party by making them think the police were in the parking lot (not that proud of that story, poor execution because I was busy, but still kinda funny) and sent two crackhead chicks to the wrong fuckhut for their fix (again, I half-assed this interaction), resulting in them being in a 5 star hotel that likely only had powder coke IF you were a politician or athlete or someone who owns fancy pants.

 

[Marlfox]

Few years ago some accident claims scam company was phoning the office non-stop, calling each of our phones in turn, so I started picking up the calls as "Sir Nigel Froton" - an eccentric, babbling aristocrat who only shares personal information with callers who can "solve my riddles three".

Put on my poshest accent. Had riddles website in front of me. Quick ones like "what has a foot but no legs?"

Being an aristocrat, Sir Nigel tended to start with "Poor people have it. Rich people need it. If you eat it you die. What is it?" The scammers wanted people who had recent car accidents, so if they could get through a riddle, I'd talk about some made up safari accident in West Africa.

An Indian guy called John was slowly converted from bafflement to pretty heavy anger over the course of a 5-10 minute riddle session with Sir Nige. Understandable - he had NO idea what goes up when rain comes down.

Best part was that when they got frustrated and hung up on me, they'd ring the next office phone along, which Sir Nige would also answer. Had about 10 conversations overall.

Nobody ever solved three riddles. They stopped calling instead.

 

[Mark]

Few years ago some accident claims scam company was phoning the office non-stop, calling each of our phones in turn, so I started picking up the calls as "Sir Nigel Froton" - an eccentric, babbling aristocrat who only shares personal information with callers who can "solve my riddles three".

Put on my poshest accent. Had riddles website in front of me. Quick ones like "what has a foot but no legs?"

Being an aristocrat, Sir Nigel tended to start with "Poor people have it. Rich people need it. If you eat it you die. What is it?" The scammers wanted people who had recent car accidents, so if they could get through a riddle, I'd talk about some made up safari accident in West Africa.

An Indian guy called John was slowly converted from bafflement to pretty heavy anger over the course of a 5-10 minute riddle session with Sir Nige. Understandable - he had NO idea what goes up when rain comes down.

Best part was that when they got frustrated and hung up on me, they'd ring the next office phone along, which Sir Nige would also answer. Had about 10 conversations overall.

Nobody ever solved three riddles. They stopped calling instead.

I wish I could keep my shit together to carry an accent all the way through a call like that… I either break character or end up defaulting back to some jumble of multiple accents.

 

[Squall_Lionheart]

i remember just leaving the phone off the hook. in the uk, if you did that, after a while you'd get a kind of beeping tune, letting you know you didn't hang up. the other person can't redial another number until you hang up. one time, after a while of me ignoring a scammer, he started whistling, trying to imitate the beeping tune. it was hilarious. aww. 10/10 effort, matey

 

[Marlfox]

I wish I could keep my shit together to carry an accent all the way through a call like that… I either break character or end up defaulting back to some jumble of multiple accents.

Probably did burst the laughter in the early calls, but they rang often so I became a professional

 

[Mark]

Probably did burst the laughter in the early calls, but they rang often so I became a professional

The best I can manage is sounding professional throughout a call. Anyone that knows me personally or has spoken to me at any point can attest to the fact that what you’re reading and what you hear me say are two entirely different vocabularies. “Ghetto articulate” is the best phrase I’ve heard to describe it. However, from my teens onward, I had to learn how to communicate with customer reps and sales reps and stuff for the upholstery job… so I had to learn to speak clearly and concisely. When I moved into repossessions, those skills had to get put into overdrive because I went from talking to working stiffs like me in sales jobs or customer service positions to speaking to bank reps and admins, law-enforcement dispatchers, and other areas that require more professionalism. I’m definitely not cut out for corporate America, but I can play the part on the phone in my jeans and t-shirt and they’re none the wiser.

 

[Gloom-is-good]

I had one the other day where they called my office phone!

They were so happy and was like "I see here that you not only pay your credit card in time but you also make extra payments! That qualifies you for (something I was not listening for)." Then they asked "so are you good at paying your credit card on time?"

I answered "NOPE" and he was INDIGNANT! He was like "you know you're supposed to pay credit card bills on time." I was like "and?"

He hung up

 

[Mark]

I had one the other day where they called my office phone!

They were so happy and was like "I see here that you not only pay your credit card in time but you also make extra payments! That qualifies you for (something I was not listening for)." Then they asked "so are you good at paying your credit card on time?"

I answered "NOPE" and he was INDIGNANT! He was like "you know you're supposed to pay credit card bills on time." I was like "and?"

He hung up

In some states, all you have to do is mention the phrase “breach of peace” to deal with legitimate debt collectors… I dunno why those scamming clowns keep thinking the intimidation tactics are gonna work.

But… when you got granny paying off mysterious IRS debts with Amazon gift cards every day… it makes sense why they keep going.

 

[Jon]

Few years ago some accident claims scam company was phoning the office non-stop, calling each of our phones in turn, so I started picking up the calls as "Sir Nigel Froton" - an eccentric, babbling aristocrat who only shares personal information with callers who can "solve my riddles three".

Put on my poshest accent. Had riddles website in front of me. Quick ones like "what has a foot but no legs?"

Being an aristocrat, Sir Nigel tended to start with "Poor people have it. Rich people need it. If you eat it you die. What is it?" The scammers wanted people who had recent car accidents, so if they could get through a riddle, I'd talk about some made up safari accident in West Africa.

An Indian guy called John was slowly converted from bafflement to pretty heavy anger over the course of a 5-10 minute riddle session with Sir Nige. Understandable - he had NO idea what goes up when rain comes down.

Best part was that when they got frustrated and hung up on me, they'd ring the next office phone along, which Sir Nige would also answer. Had about 10 conversations overall.

Nobody ever solved three riddles. They stopped calling instead.

Not only did I love this story, I was reading the post thinking, "Oh yeah, I'ma answer the riddles!"

"what has a foot but no legs?"

A ruler of course!

"Poor people have it. Rich people need it. If you eat it you die. What is it?"

Nothing!

"what goes up when rain comes down."

An umbrella!

Nobody ever solved three riddles.

What do I win?

 

[Marlfox]

Jon, you win Nigel's personal information.

Listen closely my good chap. As the sun set over the savannah in dearest Côte d'Ivoire, I was making my dusty way home to the lodge after a long afternoon shooting the clay ducks. My butler Eustace accompanied as always, and that day I believe I had my young ward along? No! He was at the races. No! I am quite INcorrect once again. It was the burlesque canteen he was frequenting at that hour. I forget sometimes how late in the day it was. So that makes it myself, Eustace and the magistrate of Serenchepi. His son was there too. His name was Jason I believe. Or Jean? Ah, Jimothy. Jimothy Phillip Tongbottom of Serenchepi province. That's the ticket. We were driving at approximately 15 knots, or 25 safari stone-leagues if you prefer the magistrate's unit of measurement, when, AVAST!! A quite impeccable white rhinoceros was spotted to starboard. What a beast it was, Jon! You couldn't have asked for a more perfect rhinoceros to end the day. The magistrate was most lifted by the sight, he was in need of it after the rollicking he got from yours truly in the clay duck shooting!! HOHOHO! Hence! Eustace was driving, and he began to slow the vehicle that we could enjoy the sight forthwith. Or was I driving? No of course not, I never drive after a shoot. Please excuse me, Jon. I digress. The safari trolley came gently towards a halt, and I faintly heard the magistrate in his automobile, questioning why we had slowed. I asked Eustace to explain. Now this was quite out of character for Eustace, he is rarely so uncouth. He called to the magistrate! Raised his voice to him! Now you know, Jon, that neither you nor I would ever raise a voice to a magistrate. It's quite disrespectful. I was immediately aghast at my butler's rudeness. My immediate reaction was to apologise, but that too would have required raising a voice and one does not raise a voice to a magistrate! In my quick thinking, I picked up my riding cane from the backseat and hit Eustace on the head with it! It would have been a mistake not to, because you see, the magistrate needed to be soothed and this was the first part. Next I opened the vehicle door and hopped to the dusty ground myself. I took only a bottle of wine and began to walk to the other vehicle. The wine was a Malbec I believe. No no, I beg parden, it was an Australian vintage from my good friend the Viceroy. Viceroy Stephensfart-Nathaniel. I approached the magistrate and put on the required facial expression, an aloof yet apologetic frown, and tapped one finger on the passenger door to request a word. His window rolled down a single inch. Bracing myself, I thanked him for his company that day and beseeched that we might stop to enjoy a magnificent rhinoceros yonder. He assented with a nod of no expression, an outcome I could only have hoped for in my wildest imaginings. However, his son, the magistrate's secondborn (which is a dangerous placement in that country) opened his vehicle door and began to exit. My heart fluttered as he opened his mouth to speak. Such words, Jon, words I cannot ever repeat.

 

[Jon]

10/10 Would answer riddles again for another amazingly eloquent retelling such as this.