My Boys

I am so freakin' lucky it's unbelievable. 

My Experience with Check Fraud

Recently, a friend recommended my services as a tutor to a client of hers. I met with him, and learned that he is a non-native English speaker who needs help perfecting his grasp of the language. Partly due to his enthusiasm as a student, I have been finding our sessions really fun. I am a total word nerd and enjoy explaining idioms, puns, etcetera.

So, I decided to post an add on Craigslist offering my services as a tutor. I initially received a response from a Hon. Romario Jenodo from Jamaica who wanted his son to meet with me three times a week during his holiday to the area. Oddly, Jenodo wanted to send me a check far exceeding my wage for a month, with the caveat that he wanted me to give the rest of the money to the kid's nanny. The request seemed rather trusting to me, but as long as the check was good I didn't care.

Then I got another response from a Charles Mai from the U.K. who wanted me to meet with his daughter three times a week during her holiday in the area. Oddly, he too wanted to send me a large sum of money, with the request that I wire $2200 of the $2650 to the nanny "an uneducated woman with no bank account" in South Carolina. Given the extreme similarities of the two situations, I started wondering if this was a common request.

Jenodo stopped contacting me, but Mai continued to almost daily.

So yesterday, UPS came to my home with a check for me. The address on the envelope differed from the signature on the check, and Charles Mai's name was nowhere to be found. I didn't know what to make of the situation, so after making some copies of the check, I went to Western Union and asked the man there what he thought of the story that I told him.

He told me that in order to wire money, I needed to come in with cash. He explained that what Charles Mai wanted me to do was cash the check, withdraw $2200 from my account, and wire the money to someone I didn't know. Western Union's check would be good, so one way or the other, whoever I wired would get $2200. However, the check I received was most likely a fake, and I wouldn't know for a few days, and by then, I would be out $2200.

I thanked him profusely for his help, and headed over to my bank to verify whether the check was fake or not. The teller looked at it for ten seconds and asked, "Did you get this through Craigslist?" "Yes." "Yes, it is fake." So, I handed the check over to them, along with the envelope it came in, to their fraud department. It turns out that they deal with a lot of parents who come in bemoaning whatever scam their child fell for, but by then it is too late.

So, that was that. I considered filing a police report, but figured that I would just be wasting my time. What's more important? Murder, or the fact that I almost got scammed?

However, after sitting on it for awhile, I decided to google Charles Mai, and came across a fantastic hub detailing my exact situation. Reading the author's follow-up comments, she wrote, "My husband contacted the FBI but they said they were not interested since there was no money lost.... and besides they're too busy to deal with it. We contacted our Regions Bank branch and they can't really do anything either. Apparently no one is interested except the people who are being victimized. Is Craig's List aware of this scam?"

The response Craigslist gave her was, "Craigslist is an online community in itself, especially since it has been somewhat replacing the newspaper classifieds. Like all advertisement you have (i.e. newsletter, flyers, etc.), the control is still in your hands whether you want to move forward with a customer. If you are not comfortable with a proposed plan, you do not have to move forward with it or you can alter it to your liking. In terms of other teachers utilizing Craigslist, there are teachers who have received spam, but the majority of the folks who use it see the benefit outweighing the bad. Hopefully this was helpful, please let me know if you have any further questions."

This was much of what I expected, however, her story did alert me to the chance that the signature on the check could either be forged, or that someone's identity was being stolen. The name on the check was unusual so I did another google search and actually found the person's professional webpage which had a copy of their signature on it. (It looks to me like the check was a copy and paste job.) Anyway, I have contacted her, and she seems very grateful for the heads up, and requested that I send her a copy of the check.

I also googled the address that I was supposed to wire money to, and it's a farm. The owner seems completely legit, so I sent him an e-mail as well inquiring if he had any employees with the name I had received. I haven't heard back from him, but it was worth a try.

Lastly, one good thing has come out of the whole ordeal, I got to cross something off my bucket-list! My mama raised me right, in that swearing was a major no-no, and name-calling in particular was the worst. So, anytime I have tried to cuss someone out, it has come out as feeble, or ridiculous at best. I got to call Charles Mai a 'filthy bastard!' and to never contact me again. So dramatic and fun!

Ironing: My Kryptonite

In general, chores stink. They are monotonous, boring, difficult, and never seem to result in a big enough pay-off. I don't know if it is possible to pick the all-time worst chore, but, by far, the least enjoyable for me is ironing the boyfriend's button down shirts. In an effort to save myself, I have researched various methods of obtaining the perfect ironing method. They are not good enough. No matter what I do, I invariably iron in wrinkles that weren't there in the first place. With the amount of time and care I put into the procedure, this shouldn't be possible. They should be perfect.

And I, of course, cannot be serene, accepting the world's continual pull towards disorder and imperfection. I don't want a soothing perspective, I just want to control some fabric and several buttons. So, after an undisclosed amount of time (I don't want to admit  how much wasted time these stupid shirts eke from my life), I am left with six shirts that look somewhat better than they started, and a desire for blood. This sort of rage seems like it would be best dissipated through general mayhem, maiming, and perhaps some looting.  But, since I have still got some of my wits about me, I am sitting on the couch with my feet on the coffee table waiting for the anger to go.

Please, please go.