Don't Fall for This . . .

WARNING: This one contains some colourful language. If this offends you, read something else. You've been warned.

Okay, so got a call from one of those lovely call centres in India yesterday. They piss me off.

Don't know if you've received this one or not, but the caller, in a thick East Indian accent, opens with something like, "Hi Mr. Robinson, my name is Bill."

Um, yeah, right. And my name is Rajish. Go ahead Bill.

"Bill" then explains that he is from the National Internet Security Task Force, or something equally ridiculous, and then tells me that they've been receiving messages from my computer.

"Is that right Bill? Fascinating."

And, according to Bill, I've got a virus and he can help me.

Now I've been receiving these calls for more than a year. Usually at least once a week. Sometimes, when I'm really bored, I'll take up an hour of his time, asking lots of questions about the security of my computer, thanking him for saving me from this horrible virus and making idle conversation about his wife and kids. The conversation usually ends when I explain that I don't know how to use a computer.

Sometimes, when I don't have time to play, I'll just hang up. Sometimes, when they call during nap time, I'll tell them to fuck off and then hang up.

Sometimes, I'll tell him I'm busy and ask if I can put him on hold. I'll then put the receiver down in front of my iPod player and leave it there for a good hour or so.

Now I've looked this scam up on the Internet. Not really all that sophisticated. The victim is directed to a web site, where they are asked to download a program that will help "Bill" fix this virus issue. And the program is basically one that gives "Bill" complete remote access your computer - your passwords, banking info, etc, etc.

So these fuckers are criminals. Plain and simple. And, apparently, are successful enough to keep going.

Anyhoo, got a call yesterday from my friend "Bill." He called while I was baking bread, and I was a little pissed 'cause the dough wasn't rising properly. Bad time to call.

I told "Bill" to leave me the hell alone, forget my fucking phone number and fuck off.

And yesterday, for the first time, I seemed to have touched a nerve at the old Calcutta Call Centre. Fifteen seconds after I hung up, I got another call. Same routine, same response.

The next call took a little longer, maybe 30 seconds. I suspect the conversation in Calcutta went something like . . .

"Bill": "Hey, this guy just swore at me, I think. Does anyone here know how to swear in English?"

"Trevor": "Me!"

So the next guy calls, and he wastes no time:

Him: "You a motherfucker. You a mother fucker.

Me: "Your mother never complained."

Him: "You go fuck your dog."

Me: "What will your mom do without me?"

Well, things just kinda went down hill from there. Seems they forgot about helping me with this computer virus.

** Okay, 7:18 a.m. and I just got the first call of the day from them. I expected as much. Actually I expected a call at 2 a.m. Told them they had the wrong number, there was no Mr. Robinson here. Didn't seem to matter. They still wanted to help me with my computer problem. "Mr. Robinson's computer problem?" I asked. He got confused. And then I hung up.**

Anyhoo, I've got a call in to MTS (Manitoba Telephone Service) to see about having this number blocked. I expect to hear from them today.

So, take this as a warning. Don't fall for this crap. They've got your name and telephone number, and that's it. Play with them if you like, hanging up on them is probably best. Me? I'm just kinda thinking about what can piss them off even more next time. They've pissed me off enough. I just want to return the favour.

Have yourselves a great Thursday. I expect I'll be spending my time fielding a few calls from India.