While trying (unsuccessfully) to upload some music videos on YouTube a message came up in bold capitals: YOUR COMPUTER HAS BEEN BLOCKED.
Worse was to follow. Below those were the words: Please call us immediately. Do not ignore this critical alert. If you close this page, your computer access will be disabled to prevent further damage to our network. Your computer has been infected with a virus and spyware. The following information is being stolen: Facebook details; credit card details; email account; photos stored on this computer.
Now, I’m just your average Joe, or average Jane, and any kind of ‘computerese’ is gobbledegook to me. Of course I was suspicious of this message. But it was in perfect English, with not a comma or a colon out of place. I had heard somewhere that scams usually had poor spelling or punctuation, but this had neither.
I imagined some evil shopaholic happily using my card to buy all those items we see in glossies. Worse still, I imagined the thief laughing at my unflattering photos, the ones taken at odd angles, and thinking to himself (or herself), “Serves this silly old goat right for not taking more care!” Oh dear me!
The last few lines of the message provided a solution of sorts. It urged me to call up a toll-free number so that I could be walked through the removal process by the technicians. And the final sting in the tail: If I did not call within the next five minutes my computer would be disabled.
What had I to lose? I shakily dialled the number and a nice girl called Della from Pennsylvania answered it. Now Della did not in the least sound as if she were from Pennsylvania, but more as if she were from Malleswaram or Matunga. But I was so shaken by the message that I thought this was some kind of outsourcing company where the troubleshooters were given western names.
Della reassured me that all would be well. She then sent me a file and told me to accept it. Now, my antennae were up. “How do I know that you’re not scamming me?” I asked.
“Madam,” she explained very patiently, “if this were a scam, you wouldn’t be talking to a real person, but just a computer generated voice.” I nodded dumbly.
I dutifully clicked on the file, it opened, and my cursor suddenly went mad darting here and there on my screen.
Humdrum life
“Madam, I’ve now got access to your computer,” said Della cheerfully. “I see you’ve been trying to watch YouTube videos.”
Della snooped around my files and then brought up a page with some computer jargon. This, she told me, were all the viruses my computer was infected with. She then told me that if I paid 200 dollars an engineer would help me remove them. Plus, she added, there was spyware installed too. I wondered in some part of my sluggish brain who on earth would be so interested in my rather humdrum life to actually install a spyware. In a way, it was also a little flattering to think that someone would go to such an extent to find me worthy of spying on!
Della repeated the fee and told me to pay immediately. Perhaps it was her tone or that she kept repeating that I had to pay up. Whatever it be, I had my eureka moment.
“No thanks!” I said, and without any preamble, cut the phone. I exited the screen and to be doubly sure, I switched off my computer.
Dear reader. I’m not some old codger (with due respect to many of the elderly who are still razor-sharp), but a moment’s carelessness or lack of alertness almost cost me dearly. Beware, as it can happen to you too.
Padmini B. Sankar is a Dubai-based freelance writer.
