Author: Mark E. Scott

I was minding my own business, having a pleasant evening with my wife when the phone rang ominously.  It was my 76-year-old Aunt Tina, calling from four states away.

“How much should a firewall cost?”  She asked after an exchange of pleasantries.

I scanned my mind’s data base for firewall pricing.  “Do you mean an anti-virus program? I don’t know, maybe $75?”

“Hmmm…so do you think $2700 is too much?”

I was immediately suspicious.  “Hell yes!  What’s going on, Aunt Tina?”

“Well, some people called and said my network was being attacked by the Russians and that the NSA had created a firewall for U.S. citizens specifically to prevent the Russians from getting into my network.”  I could hear an inkling of doubt in her voice.  Only an inkling, however.

“Ok, well, first of all you don’t have a ‘network.’  You have a laptop with a wifi connection.  Second, the NSA isn’t in the business of writing programs to protect the computers of U.S. citizens, they’re in the business of breaking into the computers of U.S. citizens.  You didn’t give them any money, did you?”  I was afraid of the answer.  This wasn’t the first time we had had a conversation like this.  Aunt Tina seemed to walk around with a target on her back that only scammers could see.

“No, I haven’t paid for it yet.”  She sounded triumphant, almost snide.

“What do you mean, ‘yet?’”  From experience I knew it was too early to claim victory.

“Well, all I’ve done is give them access to my computer.  They showed me how the Russians found my social security number and bank account numbers and that I needed this firewall to keep them out, but I told them I wasn’t going to pay them for it until after I spoke with you.”  She was beaming with pride, as if she’d foiled the people to whom she had just given access to her computer.

“Are you saying they’re still in your computer?”  I was feeling panicked.

“Well, yes, they’re installing the firewall.”

“Aunt Tina, they’re not installing a firewall.  They’re not installing anything, at least not anything that will help you. You need to turn the computer off right now!”

“I can’t.  They said I shouldn’t turn the computer off until they were done installing the program.”

“Aunt Tina!  Turn off your computer right now!  They’re just in there rooting around for information they can use to rip you off.”  My head was 60 seconds from exploding.

“Are you sure?  I don’t want to damage my computer.”

Aaargh!  45 seconds. “Aunt Tina!  Turn off the computer.  Hit it with a hammer.  Anything.  Just do something to turn it off!”

“Well, ok.”  She sounded sad and disappointed that I might be right.

I realized I had been holding my breath.  “Ok, good.  I’ll call you later.”

“Ok.  Goodnight.”

I hung up wondering how long it would take the scammers to clean out Aunt Tina’s bank account.  It was a bad feeling. Despite my attempt to rejoin my wife on the couch, minutes later the bad feeling was still with me, showing no sign of abating.  I excused myself and dialed Aunt Tina from another room.

“Hello?”  She answered innocently enough.

“Did you turn it off yet?”  I asked, already knowing the answer.

“I can’t.  They got mad when I told them I was going to turn off the computer and said I couldn’t until they were done installing the program.”

30 seconds.  “Aunt Tina!  Turn off the computer!  They’re scamming you!”

“Alright, alright.  I’ll turn it off.  Bye for now.”

15 seconds.  “Nope.  Turn it off while I’m on the phone.

“Fine.”  I heard shuffling and the sound of the phone being picked back up.  “There, I turned it off.”

“Really?”

“Yes.”

“Really?”

“Yes.”

“Ok then.  Make sure you take the computer to the computer guy tomorrow so he can check it out.  And don’t turn it back on until you do.  They’ve probably put a back door in there.”

“A what?”

“A back door.  A way for them to get back in without your permission.”  In the moment I was unaware of my prescience. The next day the computer guy would indeed find a back door. “You might want to change your bank account numbers, also.”

“How come?”

10 seconds.  “Because they probably have them by now, along with your social security number and all kinds of other personal information.”

“Really?”

“Yes.”

“Oh, no. Really?”

“Yes.”

We chatted for a few more minutes, mostly so I could keep her away from the computer but also to remind her to never give information to anyone who calls her.  I also managed to glean a promise from her not to turn the computer back on.  She hung up, clearly angry with me for pointing out she had been made a patsy and, again, within minutes the bad feeling returned.  I dialed Aunt Tina.

“Hello?”

“You didn’t turn the computer back on, did you?”

“No, but…”  Her voice trailed off.

“But what?”

“They’re on the other line.  They called to let me know how bad it was that I turned off the computer.”

5 seconds.  “Hang up, Aunt Tina.”

“Hang up on who?  You?”

“No, Aunt Tina.  Hang up on them!  Hang up on the bad guys! And don’t answer if they call you back.”

Kaboom!