MODERN DAD | By Jon Show
Nov. 8. You know those spam text messages you get from unknown numbers that are like, “Will you join us today?”
If you respond, “Who is this,” or, “You have the wrong number,” then you get an answer like, “Oh, sorry for contacting you.”
And then the person on the other end tries to bait you into an exchange so they can ultimately steal your life savings.
Most people ignore them, and I usually do, as well, but sometimes when I don’t have anything going on I like to respond and see how things unfold.
Is it sophomoric? Juvenile? Childish? Just plain dumb? Yes. But I don’t care. I find it wildly entertaining.
It’s probably been a year since I went down the rabbit hole with one of them, but it happened again a couple weeks ago.
I’d been on a fishing trip for a few days, and on my first Monday back, I had a bunch of conference calls that didn’t really require my participation, so I was zoned out.
My text notification dinged and I looked down and saw an unknown phone number. The area code was Sacramento, a place I couldn’t precisely locate on a map.
Random text: Are all the materials ready for today’s meeting?
I had no meeting that day that would require materials, so I dove in, head first.
Me: Yes Houston, we are a go for launch.
Random text: Anna, where are you?
Whenever they toss out a name you know it’s a phishing scam. I didn’t care, I was hooked.
Me: I’m at the airport are you picking me up?
Random text: What did you do at the airport?
Me: I picked up the materials for the meeting.
Random text: I’m Cora. Are you Anna?
They always assign a name to you. I don’t know why. I also can’t believe people fall for these things. I generally like to throw them for a loop early in the exchange.
Me: Yes this is Anna. Is someone coming to get me or not? I need to change before the meeting. I pooped my pants.
Cora: What?
Me: I know. So embarrassing but it’s just a little poop. Dairy, am I right?
Cora: What are you talking about?
Me: Ben and Jerry. Cherry Garcia. Gives me the squirts.
Cora: Oh sorry, I dialed the wrong number. I hope I didn’t disturb you.
I don’t know why but there’s also always an apology. I didn’t care. I was elated and ready to advance the conversation.
Me: You disturbed me but not as much as the ice cream! Can I just wear your pants and call it a day?
Cora: You are disgusting.
Me: That’s not nice. Good luck at the meeting. I quit.
Cora: Are you getting back at me?
Me: Revenge is a dish best served cold, with a side of ice cream if you have a lactose intolerance.
Cora: Are you a child?
The bot or person or whatever was clearly trying to avoid child endangerment laws so I wanted to be clear that I was an adult, despite the entire content of our text thread.
Me: No, I’m Anna and I am a woman. Hear me roar.
Cora:How old are you?
Me: 748 months.
That’s nearly 49 years old. I don’t understand people who give their kids ages in months after, like, maybe 18 months. Telling someone your child is 28 months old is insane.
No response immediately came from Cora. An hour passed and I had to drive down to Charlotte at lunch to pick up something. While waiting at a stoplight I became curious.
Me: ‘Sup Cora. How did the meeting go?
Cora: It’s an afternoon meeting.
That was the first text that made me think I was possibly dealing with a real person. I know I wasn’t, but phone hackers don’t usually possess logical trains of thought.
A few hours later the Mother of Dragons called on her way home from work and I ran her through the text string. It’s not the first time this has happened, so she was amused but not shocked.
I stopped by the BP, and while waiting for the truck to fill up with gas, I hit up Cora, since it was early evening and the meeting time had passed.
Me: So how’d the meeting go? I changed my pants. Ready to come back to work if you’ll have me?
Cora: What’s your job?
Me: I’m Anna. I get the materials ready for the meetings!
The last time I had one of these exchanges I offered to send my routing and checking numbers so the person could book a plane ticket to visit me. Why? Because at some point I like to make a big gesture or the conversation just gets boring. It was time to swing big.
Me:I’m in love with you Cora. I can’t deny it any longer. Gary means nothing to me. Be mine.
Cora: Have you eaten yet?
Me: No, are we going on a date? For real? Holla at me girl! No ice cream for dessert though. You know why …
An hour passed and I received no response. Desperate to rekindle the conversation as I stood over the rice cooker while making dinner, I reached out one more time.
Me: Cora, are you there?? It’s me, Anna. I changed my mind. I quit. And I’m going back to my sweet Gary. He accepts me and my sensitive tummy.
And that was it. I checked my phone an hour later and my text had changed from blue to green, meaning Cora had blocked me. She was gone. I managed to annoy a spam texter so bad that they blocked me.
While the thing on other end of the line was probably with some hacker in Moscow, I like to think that Cora was a normal person, just trying to reach Anna to make sure the materials were ready for the meeting. And I am desperate, desperate to know how that meeting went.
If you’re out there Cora please know that I miss you and I remember our day together fondly but, alas, my sweet Gary needs me and I must go.
I hope your meeting went well – or as well as it could go without the materials.
Jon Show lives in Robbins Park with his wife, who he calls “The Mother of Dragons.” Their 16-year-old son is “Future Man” and their 11-year-old daughter is “The Blonde Bomber.” Their dog is actually named Lightning.
