Don't fall for it
It was scary.
I refer to a day three-or-so months ago. It's a day I've been meaning to tell you about.
So here we go.
To begin, it was triple-digit hot with high-double-digit humidity.
Not just that day. Every day.
Let's make it worse: We were in the midst of fairly extensive renovations affecting several rooms of our house.
As in, just for starters at the time of the events in question, everything from my front room was in my kitchen while flooring and painting and general redecorating took place in said front room.
Don't worry. There was a narrow path to walk through the kitchen. I could get to the sink and the stove. And the refrigerator, for ice-cold Diet Coke.
If you knew me better you'd know how much I loathe everything being upended in my house.
And did I mention how hot it was? That alone is enough to tank me.
So let's consider the mise en scène. It's boiling outside. I'm inside (where it's also boiling, even with the A/C cranked down to snowball), attempting to function in all the confusion, upheaval, and general discombobulation besieging the household.
Andrew and Rambo were staying with us for the few weeks between the time Andrew returned from the Middle East and the time he moved into his new house across the dam in Lexington, and started his new job.
He was helping TG and me eighteen hours a day to make the mini-reno happen in record time. At the very moment of the day we are presently recounting, he and TG were out back, by the pool, resting for a minute.
I vaguely remember hearing a sound. It was outdoors, but not near. Not necessarily far, but not near either. From the front of the house, maybe the street. Then came a shortish silence. And then the doorbell rang.
I staggered to the door. Who could this be.
It was our mailman. The one who has been the recipient, more than once, on holidays, of my largesse in the form of freshly baked banana-nut bread.
But on this day, the heat -- or something -- had gotten to him. There was no smile, no friendly greeting. He glared at me from behind sweat-fogged glasses.
Over his regulation-blue shoulder I could see that the peevish postman had pulled his mail truck into the bottom of our steepish driveway. It idled, blinking, there.
Did you not hear me? He demanded in a decidedly schoolmarmish way. Real bossy. And I'm like, ?????
I dimly recalled that the sounds I'd heard several minutes earlier could have been a beep beep of sorts.
But I was speechless -- not tracking -- so he continued: I had to pull into the driveway because your dog was in the street.
He waited, eyes on my eyes, still fuming. When I found no words with which to answer -- honestly it was just too hot -- he jammed a package and several pieces of mail into my hand, then huffed back down the steps to his waiting wagon.
It was most rude.
I turned back inside and closed the door, thinking: Rambo must've gone down into the street again.
(Rambo loved to rack out on the porch -- one of the coolest outdoor spots -- but occasionally he'd wander down the street to check his messages. It's no problem; everyone knows him. Once in a great while a neighbor would herd him home but they were never mad either at him or at us.)
Walking through on the narrow ceramic-tile path that was my kitchen, I glanced out back. TG was sitting in a chair by the pool. Andrew was standing nearby. Rambo was lying at TG's feet, panting. All present and accounted for, not guilty of that of which he had been summarily accused.
Wait a minute ... I thought. And I wished I'd had the presence of mind to say to the meanie mailman: We don't have a dog. Our dog died on April eleventh. So there. And by the way, since when do I come running when you beep from the street?
But before I could even complete the thought, I realized something was very wrong.
For one thing, TG had all at once begun shouting into his phone. He was sitting forward, tensed and upset. Even from where I stood, I could tell he was trembling with agitation.
Which daughter? Which daughter? He bellowed into the last flip phone in North America.
This isn't my TG. Not at all. He's the calm one. I threaded my way through stacks of books and pictures and lamps and chairs to the door which leads to the pool. I opened the door.
Andrew looked over at me. As well as I can remember, he asked loudly where Audrey was. I said I thought she was working. She's self-employed so her hours vary, but I was pretty sure that's what she was doing.
Call Erica! Call Erica! Andrew shouted, punching at his own phone, nearly as agitated as his dad. Call Erica, whose hours are more predictable, and who I was certain was at work.
But I think I called her. I don't remember but it may be a moot point because Erica is infamous in our family for not answering her phone.
Sorry but nothing else about the incident is clear to me. This is all I know:
A call had come through to TG, who answered because although he didn't recognize the number, he knew from the area code that the caller was local.
When TG answered (because, also being self-employed, he always answers local calls), the caller -- who sounded angry to the point of violence -- said that a male relative of his had been involved in a car accident with our daughter.
And that TG had better come down to where the incident had taken place and pay them some money, because the whole thing had been our daughter's fault.
And that if TG didn't show up with payment for damages, the caller promised to shoot her in the head.
Now. You know and I know that when a person gets into an automobile accident -- no matter how minor -- the proper procedure is to call the police, check for injuries, and exchange insurance cards.
You don't hold women at gunpoint, call their fathers, and demand that they come immediately and write a check if they want their daughter to escape death.
But that's what the caller said, in language I cannot and would not repeat here: I'm holding a gun to your daughter's head.
But the more questions TG asked, and the more he insisted on speaking with whichever daughter was in mortal danger, the more profane and incoherent the caller became. Until he ended the call.
By then, Andrew had reached Audrey, who was safe at work. She had not been involved in an accident.
I don't remember who first talked to Erica, but she was busy at work too. No fender bender on her part.
We have a third daughter -- Stephanie -- but as she lives in North Carolina, it never occurred to us that she was being held at gunpoint. Plus, unlike her lead-foot sisters, she's a super-careful driver.
TG took a few moments to settle down. He called back the number of the threatening caller who'd called him first. Someone answered but quickly ended the call again, not wanting to engage in apres-scam chit-chat.
TG called the police to report the incident and to provide them with the caller's number. Law enforcement said there was nothing they could do. Nobody had committed a crime; it's not illegal to call someone and speak threatening words.
So we'd been the victims of a mere prank. An exceptionally cruel one, but a prank no less. Suck it up, buttercup.
As it turns out, similar scams are attempted all over the country. We'd never heard of such behavior but recently it was being discussed on talk radio.
ABC News, only two years ago, characterized this type of thing as the oldest scam in the book.
Really? Absolutely the oldest? No scam older than this one, of which we'd never heard? We don't consider ourselves out of touch, but it's clear to me that we must be.
A Milwaukee, Wisconsin, news outlet says it's a new scam going around.
Either way, some of the phony kidnappers actually collect thousands of dollars.
So there you go. It could happen to you. When it does, don't fall for it.
At the very least, follow the advice of the late-great President Reagan: Trust, but verify.
In other words, do be diligent but don't be a chump.
And that is all for now.
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Happy Monday
Reader Comments (10)
Wow - Wow
I must live under a rock because I haven't heard of this either! So, the scammer I presume, somehow guessed you have a daughter. Then, what would have happened if TG had gone
to the so called accident; would he have been robbed? Lordy mercy!
Love the photos though, especially little Dagny - she gets more beautiful every time I see her.
xoxo
@Sally ... I think it's a shot in the dark more than guessing that we actually have a daughter. If the person called doesn't have a daughter, they just say so and that's that. Since we can easily contact our daughters though, we wouldn't have gone anywhere. But many have done what the caller said until they COULD reach their daughter and find out that she was safe. Have people nothing better to do. xoxo
Jenny, this is just awful! I can't understand what anyone would get out of doing something so cruel. And what is with the mailman. There were all sorts of crazy things going on in that heat wave. I think he forfeits the next loaf of banana nut bread!
I'm sorry...
I do love your photos today, and of course Miss Dagney is just as cute as can be!
PS - I could have predicted that you don't like things out of order. I don't either. I'm much more at peace when everything is put away and looking good!
@Mari ... all the upheaval turned out to be worth it but honestly, when the last thing got put back into place, I was one happy girl. And no, I don't think the mailman will get any bread on Thanksgiving. He just should have been more patient that day. But it was awfully hot. As for the scammers, may they rot. xoxo
Good Grief! I would have been terrified!!!
I only get the scam calls from the IRS telling me they are taking me to jail unless I pay up.
Isn't it nice though, to have our living rooms back where they belong instead of our kitchen. I got real tired of sitting in my recliner with my TV 2 feet away from my nose, squashed in between all the other stuff in my wee kitchen. Like you, I had my paths.
Hoping for cooler days ahead for you.
@Judy ... Girl, you said it ... so nice to have my spaces back, cool and spacious and neat and clean. Your place looks so nice. We are happy and content with all that we did but I don't ever want to go through it again. It was almost as bad as moving. We've got highs in the 70s coming at us so no complaints here. Lovely weather. xoxo
You sure can set the scene! My heart is pounding, and it's not from heat. We have had some scams but none as awful as this. Of course, we screen most calls both at home and on cells. I hope there isn't a limit on blocked calls! As for the mail person, I personally am not surprised. We have terrible mail service in our town, and we don't even have the privilege of home delivery. We get to stand in line at the PO. Glad your renovations are complete. Your fall/Halloween decorations are great!
@Barb ... I block 'em by the dozens too, but for me it's almost never local calls. TG has to answer those and for some reason (I think he doesn't know how), he never blocks. Thanks for the compliments and the house does look nice -- I really should show it off on here and maybe I will -- but the big boar was a window decoration in a market in Newberry. Haaahahaha I'd like to have him but he wouldn't fit in with most of my decor. Our mailman? He just needs to retire. xoxo
Hey Jenny! Those phone calls can surely put a person in a spin. The scammers around here call grandparents and claim their grandchild is in another state and needs money. They name the grandchild and impersonate him. Fortunately, none of my grandchildren drive! I received a call from a volunteer who is calling for the police benefit. I didn't even wait for his spiel. I hung up the phone. But, I am so sorry that you had to experience this esp. since you have three girls. It puts one in a tail spin.
Little Dagny looks so sweet in her pink ruffles. She is so cute!
I hope that one day you will show us your new décor. You know me, I like to snoop around in other people's houses to see if I can get some ideas for my house. I will be blogging about that thought soon.
@Cheryl ... I will do it! I promise. xoxo