The gods must still be chortling with pure delight, at the way they had maneuvered the ping-pong ball in this particular match. I occupied one side of the table, while Mark Vader, resident computer hacker, occupied the other, which was clearly the driver’s side. I never knew ping-pong tables had driver’s sides.
|Fool on the mountain|
We went back and forth trying to figure out a way that I, fool on the hill, could pay ransom-oops-Microsoft Technician fees, in order to free up the controls of poor Suzy Puente in the amount of $695.00 bones. I was under the delusion that the man on the phone was out to help me-not rob me.
Forlornly I had explained about the lost wallet, with driver’s license, credit card(s), VA ID, et all, being missing in action. I had no bank withdrawal card, and whereas I could probably have borrowed the money, I was not about to get into my Subi and venture off the mountain for anything.
If the thought of a hot-fudge sundae, with extra fudge, nuts and whipped cream, is not going to get me off the mountain, nothing is. What can I say?
|Not enough to get me off the hill...|
Gluten-Free Mama was over in the Valley, and incommunicado, which rendered her credit cards and bank withdrawal card, moot. On the other hand, had I been able to get ahold of her, she would have warned me that I was making a bigger fool out of myself than usual, and that I should contact Joe, local tech guru extraordinaire, before I lost the house.
My tormentor, even if I still thought of him as my savior, must have felt the desperation of defeat, when I informed him, sadly, that we were SOL. Restraining his panic at the thought of me wriggling off the hook, he asked me why, specifically, I could not drive to get a money order.
“I live on a mountain, Dude. It’s not as though there is a Seven-Eleven up here on this dirt road.” I waited for the “not a problem, Sir, not a problem,” but I waited in vain. Not only had Mark stumbled, he had collapsed. Even he could not think of a way to get blood from this turnip.
He didn’t actually refer to me as a turnip but I could read between the lines. When he realized that the dangling turnip so close to his grasp, was not going to materialize, he went for the next best thing. After all, he had well over an hour invested in this call already. Why not?
“When will your wife be back? I have the ability to keep these hackers out of your computer for short periods of time.”
I knew this guy was good! He’s going to keep these creeps at bay for me. How cool is that?
Why I continued to delude myself that this guy had my best interests on hand, instead of his hand on my best interests, defies explanation.
I was desperate to not have to bug Gluten-Free Mama, and thought about how epic it would be if I, the least likely candidate imaginable, could wrestle my identity back from the bad, the very bad hacker dude. And for only $695.00!
We agreed that he would call back on Saturday, and I would have a credit card handy to hook him up with, and then parted ways. My blender-brain had things pretty well stirred up as I hung up the phone, but my logic was that I had five days to get some loot together. Five days was a long time and who knew what might develop?
For one thing it would give me adequate time to track down Joe, my resident knight in shining armor, and just make sure that he did not see anything that I was missing. I mean, was there any reason why I should not shell out this loot to Mark?
I messaged Joe and he called me almost immediately. In answer to my question, he said there were 695 reasons why I should not send any loot to Mark.
“It’s a scam,” he said flatly. “You’re being had. Just shut down your computer until I can get up there and take a look at it. Can you do without it for a couple of days?”
To save $695.00?