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• How to tell if your cat is trying to kill you. Meow
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Happy weekend everyone!

Monterey Bay Aquarium

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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.

Trying to Get Settled

I am drowning in boxes...
I am pretty sure I could tackle the cardboard mountains around me if I had more furniture, but we are trying to build our love nest carefully and deliberately. So, as far as furniture goes, we currently have a couch, two rugs, a bed, a nightstand, and a desk that has not yet been assembled. I really cannot complain because I am in love with all that we currently have, especially my nightstand! My mom and I went thrift store shopping recently, and I was riding high on a wave of thrifty success. I purchased the most beautiful nightstand I have ever seen. It' solid wood with a greeny/blue background and hand-painted, flowers, birds, and trees on four sides. (Two ladies stopped me on the way to the register to congratulate me on my find, and to express their jealousy. Truth.) The pièce de résistance being that it was only twenty dollars! Who priced it? Were they blind?  But, I shouldn't mock because I am entirely grateful. Thank you Thrift Center, you have improved my quality of life.

New Apartment

We have officially signed the lease on a new place, and I love it. The perks, oh there are so many. But, first a brief description. It is a duplex, and our door is the one with the tree in front of it. Actually, duplex isn't even the word, it's a 1920s bungalow, which means it is small. Small being relative though, as its about the same size as the old apartment in Paris. Unlike Paris, we have a yard! With a fence, and vines, and birdies that take dust baths mere feet from the back door. *Happy sigh* However, there are still many similarities to Paris. We have a gas stove, wood floors, and copious amount of crown molding. There is a corner store on our block where we can buy pastries (albeit Mexican pastries). We are within walking distance from the library, downtown, and the train station. By car, we have easy access to a veritable plethora of freeways. So even though we only have one car, if he takes it to work, I am not stranded. (We also have a covered parking space so we don't have to fight for street parking!) I am so happy to be done with generic corporate housing and all the scary Stepford Wives that inhabit our complex. It's really eerie to have 3,000 neighbors, and to never meet them. I've seen them from afar, but they are careful not to make eye contact. The boyfriend is bemused by my commentary on the complex, but he is not here during the weekdays...