At least once and sometimes three times every weekday, but never at the weekend (because even thieves need a break), I receive a call on my landline.
I don’t think I’ve had a genuine landline call for more than two years. These daily phone calls are always from a person whose only aim is to help me by giving me or saving me money. I only really keep the landline as a memento of the past. Surprisingly, although other people tell me they do, I never receive scam calls on my cellphone.
The subject matter of these calls has varied over time but the aim is always the same: to obtain my bank details. Five or six years ago the man, or occasionally the woman who rang, would tell me that I had paid too much for something like my electricity and I was due a refund. Therefore, my bank details were urgently needed.
When we moved to Wavendon 13 years ago, we obtained our landline telephone through British Telecom and we have always been ex-directory. The account is in Caroline’s name (C Dawes) and the callers always greet me as Mr Dawes. Consequently, it is obvious that they only have our number because someone at B T has given or, more probably, sold it to them.
These days, there are two main reasons they give for needing my bank details but a couple of days ago, there was a new one. The most common attempted scam begins with a robot voice telling me that this is a call from “bank security” or “visa security” as they have noticed unusual activity on my card.
“This morning you purchased a train ticket from Edinburgh to London for the sum of one hundred and twenty pounds which is something you haven't done in the past by using your card.”
“Press ‘one’ to confirm this purchase or press ‘two’ to talk to an investigator.”
When I press ‘two’, either the phone goes dead or, after a short delay, I am greeted by a man with an Indian accent so strong as to be almost incomprehensible.
“Hello, my name is James Worthington. How can I help?”
The second most common topic of these calls is to tell me that I am due a rebate of £149 for an insurance policy I took out to cover kitchen appliances. Again, the caller will be an Indian with a name like Roger Simmons or Mary Russell.
I try to play along with them for as long as I can. The longer I am wasting their time, the less time they have to contact someone more vulnerable. “Altruistic” should be my middle name.
One thing that all these callers have in common is that the moment they realise that I am not falling for their scam, they abruptly hang up. Whenever I call the number that they used, I either hear, “This number is unobtainable,” “This number does not exist,” or "The number you have called is not recognised."
Sometimes though, it does ring and when it’s answered, I tell the person that their number has been cloned by scammers and they can expect to receive a lot more calls like this. That happened to me a few years ago. It got to the point where I was receiving more than 20 calls a day on my cellphone from thoroughly disgruntled, angry callers and I was forced to change my phone number.
A few days ago, I received a call that introduced me to a scam that was new to me. Darren White, who has probably never been out of Mumbai in his life, told me that I was to receive a free gift.
“Is that Mr C Dawes?” he began, pronouncing ‘Dawes’ as “Dow-wess”.
I confirmed that it was. I know my place in life.
“We are giving you a personal Fall Alarm that costs £300 on the market and we are getting all that amount for you, so it will cost you nothing.”
He went on to tell me that if I’m wearing this alarm and fall, an alarm will promptly bring medical aid to me.
Just to confirm that I qualify by being over sixty, would I please tell him my date of birth.
“Certainly, it’s 01-04-1919.”
"Have you ever been diagnosed with Alzheimer’s or dementia?"
“I don’t think so, can’t remember.”
It was obvious that ‘Darren’ was reading from a script. If I asked a question, there was a pause while he went back to the relevant passage in his script and simply repeated it word for word. Absolute proof that he was reading a script came when I heard this from him:
“Your health will be monitored by our doctors twenty four divided by seven.”
He must have read, “Your health will be monitored by our doctors 24/7,” but 24/7 wasn’t an adverbial phrase he’d ever used or come across before.
For all that, I only had to pay them £29 a month and that’s when he began fishing for my bank details so that I could pay my monthly subscription by direct debit.
I don’t mind these calls except for the fact that I can never have a proper lie-in as they start at 9:30 every day but they do break up my morning.
I must have had around six hundred of them so far and the consequence is that now, if ever anyone with an Indian accent calls, I assume that they are up to no good.
That is a dreadful thought to have but I’m afraid it is inevitable.
*****
You might find this as strange as I do:
A neighbour has been in the US for a month, visiting family . She flew out from Heathrow, leaving her car parked in the long-term car park.
At 11.00 in the morning, looking out of my kitchen window, I saw her return as she parked outside her house.
A short time later, I was on my way to Waitrose and as she had flown overnight and then driven 55 miles, I thought she might like me to get her some basic food and perhaps, a ready meal.
She was very grateful but the essentials she needed, surprised me.
“Just a pint of milk and a watermelon please.”
