Under His Guidance, I Entered the Web of Deceit

“Yes, that sounds accurate,” I agreed. Our internet had indeed been sluggish lately. I was taken aback that they could identify this problem remotely—what a marvel of modern technology!

He assured me he could resolve the issue, and I felt relieved. Although he didn’t elaborate on the process, he began instructing me in a gentle, encouraging manner. It appeared we were going to troubleshoot the problem together.

He directed me to a specific website, dictating the characters one by one to ensure accuracy—like confirming a phone number. The first site was a speed test, and unsurprisingly, our connection was terrible. I figured this was just a routine procedure to confirm what I already knew, perhaps for his records.

Amidst the background noise of what sounded like a bustling office, I asked about it. He explained those were his colleagues assisting other customers. Yet, the noise felt off, especially given the ongoing pandemic. Did he work in a center abroad? His accent hinted at an Indian background, raising more questions about their working environment.

Following his instructions, I navigated to another site. He asked me to verify I saw the name "Sky" on my screen. Yes, I thought, but I could have found it myself without his guidance! The URL contained an odd extension, which I assumed was necessary for fixing router issues.

As the conversation progressed, he asked me to read out numbers that appeared on my screen. “But won’t that allow you access to my computer?” I questioned, confused. Surely, he didn’t need such access. I hesitated, recalling a warning on my screen, which I mentioned as a reason to halt the process.

The Call Takes a Turn

He insisted on transferring me to a colleague for further assistance, which I didn't want. I was trying to end the call, but my desire to be polite held me back. He connected me to a woman who spoke with authority and confidence.

She reassured me, claiming she had a special number known only to Sky and myself, as evidence of their legitimacy. I remained skeptical but intrigued by her assertion. I half-expected her to prove her claim next.

Again, she provided step-by-step directions. My husband had now joined the conversation, listening intently. He demanded proof of her identity and said he would contact Sky directly, prompting her to disconnect before he could finish.

I Let My Logic Overrule My Instincts

You might wonder what I was thinking; how could I have been so naive? Ironically, I had overanalyzed every red flag, convincing myself to gather evidence instead of trusting my gut, which screamed for me to stop.

My logical side urged me to remain calm and assess the situation. Meanwhile, my social instincts pushed me to maintain a civil dialogue, worrying about being rude. The scammers, however, were methodically leading me deeper into their trap.

Upon reflection, the signs were clear, yet I chose to ignore them. What made my case so special that a solution was tailored just for me? Did he even ask for my name or verify his identity? Why was he guiding me letter-by-letter through dubious websites without providing a clear overview of the process?

Ultimately, my social instincts led me astray. Even after deciding to end the call, I continued engaging, trying to communicate my discomfort as if I were speaking to a trusted individual. This vulnerability stemmed from my reluctance to be rude and a desire to be polite.

The Aftermath: Cleaning Up the Mess

After the call, we scrambled to assess the damage. We took screenshots of open windows, checked for newly installed software, shut down the computer and Wi-Fi, and reached out to Sky and our local tech expert for guidance.

Despite the distress caused by this experience, I was certain I hadn’t given him the last three digits he requested. Yet, a sliver of doubt lingered—had I inadvertently surrendered those details?

We worried about our interconnected devices and whether access to one meant access to all. Somehow, AnyDesk—a legitimate software often exploited by scammers—had been installed. We hurriedly removed it, but was it too late? Had we unknowingly allowed them access to our files?

In my research afterward, I discovered that while AnyDesk is a legitimate tool, it has also become a favorite among scammers posing as tech support to exploit unsuspecting individuals.

And Perhaps It Could Happen to You!

You might be reading this, feeling secure in your belief that you would never fall for such a scam. However, as Adam K. Raymond suggests, believing we are immune to online threats makes us prime targets.

Reflecting on past experiences, like the time I lost $2,500 to a charming fraudster, I realize that vulnerability can strike in unexpected ways—whether via a slick salesman or an unsolicited call on an old landline.

Thank you for reading, and remember: when that uneasy feeling arises, trust it. Being nice can sometimes be a trap.