Hacked!

There's one born every minute...

For all the bells and whistles going off on Suzy Puente, my computer, you’d have thought I hit the jackpot at Circus, Circus. What I had actually done was google gluten-free pumpkin bread, and hit the return key to check the list of ingredients for future consideration, the future being about ten minutes from then.

What happened instead was that Suzy Puente had gone off with a screeching alarm, and a blinking, blue, rectangular box had imposed itself upon the screen, making access to the coveted recipe, impossible. Maybe Suzy objected to gluten-free?

Across the screen read the following message:

“Your computer has been compromised-you may be dealing with identity theft. Call 1-888-730-4460. Do not try to regain control of your computer by shutting it down and restarting it; that will do you no good. Call 1-888-730-4460 and let our systems technicians handle your problem. Call  1-888-730-4460 NOW!”

WTF? I’ve been hacked? My identity has been stolen? I have no control of Suzy Puente? Worst of all, I have to make a phone call to some techie in India? Where’s my sword? I sense a fall coming on…

What did I do first? I shut Suzy down and restarted her. Not only did the alarm return and the blue box, also, but it had a distinctively mocking tone to it. 

I cringe at the thought of telephones under the best of circumstances. I have exactly three contact numbers on my phone: Gluten-Free Mama and two of my three sons, the two that live up here on the mountain. I simply do not do phones. Mostly it’s because I can’t process information through my ears very well, one of the more benign symptoms of being bipolar. So trying to have a conversation is difficult enough, without throwing technology into the mix.

Talk about taking a direct hit to the head, and unfortunately, not the kind of hit to which I am accustomed. With Gluten-Free Mama over in the Valley, I am isolated enough as it is, let alone ending up without my computer. When the DISH Network system went down the Friday before the Super Bowl recently, GF Mama did the phone call, and I was eternally grateful for at least a week. 

Hey, Ellie Mae! well, never mind.

This time, barring Ellie Mae stepping up at the last minute, I would have to make the call myself. Metaphorically donning my big-boy pants and chaining my attitude at the door-in triplicate-I dialed the number and waited until the techie answered on the first ring, which should have tipped me off at the get-go.

“Technical support, Mark speaking, how may I help you?”  

This sounds like every tech-support person I have ever talked to, except he can’t be all bad-his name is Mark!

“Hey there! I’m calling this number because my computer has alerted me to the fact that my identity has possibly been stolen. Can you help me out?” 

This guy had no way of knowing it but he had a live one on the line: the most gullible 66-year-old man alive. I may have an IQ of 141, but in terms of common sense, I barely made it out of pre-school. The only thing that granted me kindergarten status is that of all the stuff that he asked, and all the places we went in the inner regions of my computer, he never asked for my social security number. Had he done so, even I would have recognized it for the scam it was. 

“Not a problem,” he assured me. “Not a problem. That’s what I am here for. Now tell me, Sir, what does it say on your computer screen?”

I read the warning to him and he repeated, “Not a problem, Sir. Not a problem. Now tell me, what site were you at when you got this warning?”

Gluten-free...

I told him about the pumpkin bread recipe but omitted the part about gluten-free. I hoped it would not factor into the equation and it appeared I was right.

He asked me to go to this site again, and when I did, I suddenly realized that this clever techie had actually taken over the controls of my computer.

Still operating from La La Land, I thought to myself, ‘How cool is that? This guy can check out my computer from top to bottom, and find out what he needs to fix the problem.’

Sigh.

Yes, I am that gullible.

Next: The Price of Poker