the tao of jaklumen

the path of the sage must become the path of the hero


Leave a comment

I hit that scammer with the voice of madness.

Note: this post title is inspired by

I should have realized our Do Not Call registration expired.

as I wrote about something similar in a post titled “I hit that telemarketer with the voice of madness” on The Icarus Project forums.

Now, most of the time, I try to be polite to people on the phone.  Even telemarketers.  I really do.  If I think someone is trying to earn a reasonably honest living (although I’ve said telemarketing work is only a few notches above prostitution), I will be kind and polite to them.

But I toss a lot of civility out the window for telephone scammers.

Sometimes I wonder why we get them in the first place.  Some are automated calls with recordings offering to consolidate our credit, which I know we don’t need.  A very few are offers of so-called business opportunities, which I’d prefer to call “get rich quick schemes” much of the time.  Then there are the calls from those faking to be from Microsoft, worrying about my “Windows computer”– and I just laugh at them.  I tell them they are amateurs, because I use Linux.

But this particular phone scam was one I consider particularly low-down and slimy, and one I’d run into before:  the scammer claims that the IRS has issued an arrest warrant for me.  Yeah, right.  I don’t pay income tax, and I’ve claimed a hardship exemption on property tax.

Now, telemarketers and scammers used to call direct.  Some years back, people devised ways to respond to that, and one of my favorites was the Telecrapper 2000:

But they’ve gotten wise to this.  These folks have started making recordings and asking people to call back.  Maybe this makes them easier to ignore- but I was itching for some payback of sorts.  This particular automated call was a synthesized voice, and just smelled of fake, fake, fake.  So I figured I’d call back and really have some fun.

What I didn’t expect, but was pleasantly surprised by, was that MinuteMatt (MM) and Cimmy decided to join in on the fun.  I said whatever came to mind: including asking “so what are you wearing?” as if it was a phone sex line, making fake vomiting noises, and saying the most random things as if I had totally lost my mind.  Cimmy decided to call me “Harvey” and to insist I’d hurt myself enough and needed to go back to my padded room.  MM said a few random things as well, either to sound as crazy as I was, or to fake support for Cimmy’s help.  But what really just got me grinning like a loon later was what MM heard the guy saying:

“I’ve never encountered this before.  What am I supposed to do?”

I guess I have to give the man some credit.  He really tried to hang in there, although he didn’t say a whole lot to me besides claiming he was with the IRS.  He just let me yammer and chatter on and on.  I wish I had kept track of how long it took, because it seemed like somewhere between 5-10 minutes; way longer than most scammers hang on.  I was determined to babble on and on until he hung up, and mercifully, he did– I heard the familiar alarm that comes when a landline phone has been disconnected too long.


2 Comments

I Am So Tired Right Now

If it isn’t already bleedingly obvious right now, I’m on a blogging hiatus.

I am so tired.

 

A quick note- there will be a little salt in the following words.  If coarse language offends you, I won’t be offended in turn if you gloss over the next parts, or even stop reading.  I will be grateful if you continue, however.

Hit the road, Jill

I trounced Boy’s ABA therapist.  As in I told her to get out.  Then, I could only take so much of her boss blowing smoke up my ass.  It’s a semi-long story that I just don’t have time or energy to elaborate on right now.

I am very excited to have a new artist- Saphyre Rain- to write press for We Heart Music.  (What’s We Heart Music?  For those who haven’t been here over the long, long slog, leave me a comment, and I’ll explain.  For now: a music blog I wrote for back in the day.)  It’s comprised of a husband and wife duo singing about hope for suicide and self-harm issues, which are very personal and important to me.  I’ve been corresponding with Amanda, the singer/guitarist of the group, and she’s been very congenial… I’m grateful she specifically asked me to take my time.

Errrrrgggh, this is so frustrating.  I’m really frustrated!

I’m so frustrated, in a certain way.  cough No, won’t elaborate.  It doesn’t help that Cimmorene has a new memory about being molested by a caregiver when she was 3.  Why thank you, fate.  Yes, I will have another bitch slap, please.

More work on this post than I was expecting.  I’m still tired.

It takes effort to distill thoughts to 120 characters, but Twitter is less exhausting… as was discussed in the previous post.


10 Comments

The murky depths, far, far from the Community Pool

I seem to be beyond notice.  11 years, and I get so few comments.

 

I’m not looking for Freshly Pressed.  I have ceased caring about that.

 

I don’t want to be special.  I don’t want to be brave.  I just want to belong.  I started this blog to come to grips with the awful abuse my mother and others heaped on me.  11 years later, the world seems to be telling me, over and over, that most people do not care.  This space right here, it’s just not hitting people’s vibes.  It’s beyond their notice.

 

Oh, and third wave radical feminists are especially unwelcome here.  I don’t need some random bitches telling me I’m so part of the oppression.  Sadly, that’s likely to include a cousin, but ironically, she’s the only one from that branch of the family that can even be bothered to talk to me.  The others, who I used to be a lot closer to- no, they don’t care.  They don’t.  They already have their pity party on Facebook, or, whatever.  Well, there’s the Star Wars & “my man” couple.  Whatever.