I’m not sure if you’ve spent any time this week on the vast network of computers and EKG machines and cash registers that we collectively call “the internet,” but yesterday and today everyone seemed to be talking about an article on the website The Cut written by a financial advice columnist who got scammed out of $50,000. I’m pretty sure the article was such a popular topic of discussion because it contained so much rich, creamery schadenfreude packaged in such an appetizing way: a smug, wealthy person who literally writes about “financial literacy” for a living, getting convinced by the most inane, transparent of scams into cramming $50,000 into a shoebox and throwing it into the window of a Mercedes-Benz SUV. It’s a hell of a ride, but, more importantly, it lays bare the one bit of truly worthy financial advice: The only smart way to keep your money safe is clearly to transform that wealth into many non-running cars that you can then litter about your property or along a nearby street.
The financial-advice columnist, Charlotte Cowles, definitely went through something shitty: She got an unsolicited call from someone claiming to be Amazon, talking about some unexpected large purchases, and from there was transferred to people claiming to be from the Federal Trade Commission and then the CIA. They knew her Social Security number and information about her family, and talked her into pulling $50,000 from savings and giving it to someone purporting to be an undercover CIA agent.
In reading her account, the ruse seems glaringly obvious, and the insistence that she avoid telling her husband, lawyer, police or anyone should have made any remotely-familiar-with-modern-society person stop in their tracks and, you know, not give any money to these people. But that’s not how it played out.
To her credit, writing about it is a good thing to do, as it can help inform people of the dangers of such scams. She could have kept quiet, kept her reputation as a non-mark financial advice columnist intact, but she didn’t.
So, that was good of her, I suppose. I can respect that. Still, I can’t shake the feeling that my long-dead grandma, who spoke either six languages or none, depending on how strict you are with what defines a “language,” and who I think was illiterate, could have detected that something in the ham-fisted performance of these scammers was “off.”
[Editor’s Note: I want to make it clear that, though we’re poking fun at this columnist, we are empathetic. We don’t want her or anyone who is the victim of a scam to feel shame, especially given that this columnist mentions she had to attend therapy as a result of this incident. We wish her all the best; with that said, we’re just poking a bit of fun, here. And again, we respect her for telling this story and for raising awareness to this issue in a way that no public service announcement or less-compelling news story ever could. People are talking about scams right now, so Cowles’ story could really prevent someone from going through something similar. -DT].
The scam was the sort of thing that nobody I know would have fallen for, because no one I know would bother to take a phone call from “Amazon.” Amazon isn’t calling you! But, Cowles did think Amazon was calling her, and then the FTC, and then the freaking CIA, and she seems to have bought it all. If she was transferred to Sasquatch to confirm her bank account and routing numbers I have no reason to believe she wouldn’t have taken that call, too.
Cowles makes it very easy to be less than totally sympathetic because she notes how she’s an unlikely scam victim by writing this:
“Scam victims tend to be single, lonely, and economically insecure with low financial literacy. I am none of those things. I’m closer to the opposite. I’m a journalist who had a weekly column in the “Business” section of the New York Times. I’ve written a personal-finance column for this magazine for the past seven years. I interview money experts all the time and take their advice seriously. I’m married and talk to my friends, family, and colleagues every day.”
She’s clearly a person who comes from wealth — someone who can just get 50 grand at a moment’s notice without Googling “kidney removal to sell” and “do humans have a middle kidney” and in the end, she implies that the loss of that $50 large didn’t really affect her all that much.
Every step she takes in this thing makes you want to yell at your screen, in a vain attempt to stop someone from being such a rube, a patsy, a dummy. She’s a financial columnist! How? Why does she buy into this ridiculous crap? It’s maddening.
Okay, you just read the damn thing, I suppose. But, let’s get to the real important part here: She gave away $50,000 in a shoebox. Clearly, cash is not secure. It’s too portable, too easy to just lose or hand off. A strong wind or a horny dog can make $50,000 in cash disappear far too easily. And don’t get me started on electronic storage of money; that’s even worse — you can lose countless sums in microseconds, with no actually sensory notice or anything at all, just invisible electrons whizzing through highways of metals, or electromagnetic waves, gliding unseen through the air.
But you know what is a secure way to store your wealth? In the form of a car. Ideally, a non-running one.
‘Hold On, I’m Gonna Have To Rebuild This Motor And Tune This Carb, Then Sell A Few Cars Before I Get You That Cash’
My yard is currently littered with a 1989 Yugo, a 1977 Dodge RV, a 1973 Volkswagen Beetle, and a 1989 Ford F-150, all of which are, for some reason or another, currently immobile. Well, at least under their own power. And those heaps, sitting there, un-garaged, getting wet and a little moldy in places, generating their own rich, redolent smells, represent the vast majority of my material wealth here on Earth. This is why I really should be a financial-advice columnist for an outlet like The Cut or perhaps Oui, if they’re still in print.
You see, those four non-running cars are at that perfect point in their automotive lives that they’re really not losing value any more; they’re holding their considerable value, and, barring a horrible bout of rust or a falling tree or a determined bolt of lightning, are probably worth hundreds of thousands of dollars! At least, according to my math.
Maybe half a million? Who knows? The value of non-running Yugos, for example, has to be skyrocketing, as Yugos are just getting more and more rare, which, of course, is the primary determinant of car value, right? That’s why everyone who kept their Chevy Vegas and first-gen Honda Preludes are now likely, what, billionaires? That sounds right.
You see, a non-running car is a vault of wealth, one that can’t easily be moved from where you put it. That’s why the non-running thing is key. Also helpful are tires that have lost most of their air, and, even better, small trees that grow between the bumper and body, a biological security system that will definitely keep your investments safe.
So, if I get a call from Amazon, and, miraculously, answer it, and then just play improv-style “yes, and” to every request made by the voices on the other end, I know that my wealth is still safe and secure because any $50,000 I may have is in the form of a bunch of mildewing shitboxes killing the grass of my lawn or, perhaps more positively, keeping my precious driveway gravel secure. I literally can’t be scammed out of money over the phone! It’d take a scammer with a tow truck, a lot of free time, and a preternatural resistance to both tetanus and poison ivy to scam my wealth away from me.
And, if I need to return those cars into money, then all I have to do is, let’s see, reinstall some carbs after I get that engine un-seized, or install that new flywheel and rebuild a transmission, or figure out what the hell is wrong with those fuel injectors, I think, or why the timing doesn’t seem to be doing anything, and that’s um, it! Then it’s just a quick process of selling and boom, cars into cash! It’s foolproof.
So, as you get this article passed to you by friends looking to enjoy a satisfying, self-confident chuckle at someone else’s $50,000 worth of expense, I hope that you’ll take a moment to repay their favor with some genuinely good advice that they can definitely use: put your money into non-running cars, and litter them with pride alongside your street curbs, underground parking areas, or, ideally, lawn.
It’s the best possible financial advice there is. Take it from me, someone who just decided that they’re a financial-advice columnist and who has never, ever, been scammed out of $50,000.
I wonder how many more Yugos I can fit on my lawn?
Unknown number or “Amazon” calling? I wouldn’t have even picked up the phone. Of course, I don’t even pick it up for 90% of the callers I know who are still alive (I would definitely pick it up from someone who’s dead!)—I’m not a doctor and I’m not in good enough shape to fight someone off anymore (though I’m still willing to do it to the death, which is an advantage), so nobody should be calling me in an emergency and they can text or leave a message.
Before the Ukraine invasion, I had a Russian scammer (is that redundant?) try to get money out of me, but I strung them along for months over email while they put off asking me for money because I joked about them being a scammer since the beginning, which—of course—they had to deny while attempting to gain my trust. At first, I was just curious about how much effort they were willing to put in and their methods, but we ended up having some interesting conversations and I learned some interesting things about life in Siberia (I think, though their IP traced back to nearby Novosibirsk and Google Earth matched their description of the village, so the daily life stuff was probably true). It seems like not much changed out there since the Soviet collapse in terms of technology or much of anything else. Of course, they eventually asked for money and that was the end of it. However, if they had personal information on me like the ones who scammed this woman did, I’d have been way too concerned to string them along and have just reported it to authorities, even if they wouldn’t have done anything about it.
I had someone call once claiming to be my granddaughter in jail and needing bail money, I told her maybe she should spend the weekend in there and learn a lesson, and she hung up on me.
For the record, I don’t even have children (that I know of), let alone grandchildren, though I did rent an apartment in a 55+ community for awhile because it was cheap, I think that might be how my number got in the scammer’s list
That’s something I would have said. I’m always interested in the mechanics of the scam, though that usually doesn’t go much beyond a googledy search.
Not a scammer, but this reminded me of how I once had a kid prank calling me for some reason (this was land line days, so over 20 years ago) by just saying something quick, like “you suck” or “you smell” and hanging up. Finally, I was able to hold him on the line by telling him he had no imagination. He asked me what I meant, so I schooled him about how to do a proper prank call with a theme and all that, like I did when I was a young idiot. Ended up calling a few times after to talk like we were buddies and I felt bad because he was obviously pretty lonely to do such a thing. Can’t remember what I said to get him to stop calling, but it was something uncharacteristically sympathetic for me in my old PTSD days. It was also a good reminder for me to avoid human interaction whenever possible. Unfortunately, it took a while to learn that lesson with the final one involving an old elementary schoolmate who is currently serving 14 years for torturing some poor woman he held hostage in his apartment for months. Now I know and knowing is half . . . dammit, those old GI Joe PSAs were right again! (Though the Mormons had the best PSAs—great for schoolyard laughs.)
I’ve learned that core parts are also a safe investment.
If I return those brake calipers or alternator to the parts store for the core charge my lovely wife will find a use for that money that isn’t something cool like another broken rust heap from marketplace. If I keep them in the original box with the receipt, in the corner of the barn she just accuses me of being a hoarder.
I’m one parts store run away from having enough cash on hand for my next shitbox lawn ornament to park next to the broken ass Jeep and rusted out super beetle that I already don’t have time for.
Only risk there is that someday she might hire someone to clean out the barn as a surprise, throwing away all that old “junk,” and then beam at you expecting gratitude for cleaning up the mess.
No chance of that happening, she lets it be as long as I don’t wash parts in the dishwasher or rebuild carburetors on the dining room table. I already gave a buddy the heads up if I ever keel over to get in there for the “scrap”
I get calls from Amazon about large purchases all the time.
Shit! I’m doing it all wrong! 3 cars, a pickup truck, and two scooters … But they all run! Does it help that one of the running cars has no bumpers, lights or glass?
I read that article hoping to find amusement (perhaps because of that headline) but ended up feeling rather sympathetic for the author.
Having been a victim of a scam myself, I know how it feels to lose all sense of reality in that moment when you’re being caught up in all of that. Hers seemed particularly bad because they knew a lot of real actual information about her, and she actually took precautions to verify the legitimacy of the ‘case’ several times.
Thank you for posting this, which is a refreshing perspective and helped me frame what I was trying to to say.
I’ve not been scammed per se but have had folks try, and I’ve also had stolen identity crap to deal with (maybe the two are related). Anyway, the feelings of violation are real, even if there is no financial loss.
I love me some Torchinsky but I thought Jason’s take was a little harsh, as are some of the other comments. A scam is a mindfuck, and unfortunately this was an expensive one. But to say “this wouldn’t happen to me just cos I don’t have $50K in cash sitting around” (btw I don’t either) doesn’t mean that you’re necessarily immune from other attempts at mindfuckery. If one is somehow, that’s great. But as we’ve seen, it’s surprising who isn’t.
I’m sympathetic to the feeling of violation. I’ve had a motorcycle and a bicycle worth more than that motorcycle stolen from this very address, and I’m ever vigilant, jumpy. Just last night I think a gumball (gum tree seed pod) thwacked something loudly right as I was falling asleep, and spent 10 minutes scouting and scanning and making sure my new motorcycle was still there. It’s an awful feeling, and I do have sympathy for the author on that score. I forgot my bicycle outside after a long ride, and it was gone when I woke up. It was my fault, but I did not deserve it. She did not and does not deserve it.
However, as a financial advisor to other people, I believe this person should be held to a higher standard. The author throws out a litany of petty indulgences as if they absolve her of responsibility for her own foolishness, and this does not evoke sympathy. It makes her look haughty and supercilious, looking down her nose at all the single people that don’t floss that would have made better marks. She likens her experience to being relentlessly interrogated and giving a forced confession, but she was out trick or treating, not sitting in a small grey room with literally no escape. She thought she was so important that if course the CIA would want or need to talk to her. She specifically said she is not a rube, but she is precisely a rube, with all the embarrassment that comes with it.
She is undoubtedly a victim and I am not so callous as to suggest she deserved it. There’s no doubt this scam was a scary, escalating whirlwind. I do think her extremely superior attitude, managing to step on every other demographic in existence as she reckons with clawing her way out of the social and financial hole she dug (or was compelled to dig), is worthy of scorn.
Yeah some of her language seemed a bit pompous. But the fact remains that when you’re being emotionally manipulated, rational logic tends to go out the window most of the time.
It’s kinda along the same thread as being catfished.
Thanks for your comment. I guess I just took the article as her confession of her monumental fuck up and didn’t interpret any of it as her looking to absolve herself of responsibility. I think she’s looking for an explanation as to how she could have been duped, and writing this article was part of that search. Yes, I can see that some of it came off as humble-braggy or made her seem out of touch. But in my profession, I’ve dealt with a lot of folks like that who have no capacity for introspection and so I was ignoring all that and focusing on her capacity for introspection and her bravery, frankly, in admitting publicly to what she fell for.
Flame away, but maybe she made it all up. Yeah, people do that. Too many really serious red flags ignored and a spouse that supposedly shrugs off losing $50,000 he may not have been told about. Move past the sympathy and the story is full of holes.
Men get scammed, especially lonely old men that fall for the old online romance con.
However, research has shown that women tend to be victimized much more frequently than men do. I’m not trying to be sexist – maybe men can detect the BS better, who knows?
Seems like Mercedes has really a Smart way to invest.
I knew Edward Jones was full of crap
Noticed you didn’t show your hardest working asset, your Pao. That darn thing did modelling work between deer hunting expeditions.
That’s because the Pao runs! It is a hardworking little beast!
So are you, my friend! Truly your wordsmithing is your greatest appreciated asset.
what a nice thing to say!
> the Pao runs
… Straight into venison
There is a place in North Georgia called Old Car City where the owner claims to have over 4,400 derelict heaps rotting into the ground throughout his 34 acre property. If non-running cars are the ultimate store of value, the owner of that property must be far richer than that Musk fellow.
One of my cars just broke. Now I realize that I just adjusted my portfolio assets.
I’m thinking that this logic makes West Virginia one of the wealthiest states in the nation.
If cars are good, then mobile homes are even better.
You ever heard of someone stealing a satellite dish? EXACTLY!
The weirdest thing about the $50k story (to me) is that the scammer is from “the CIA.” That’s not what the CIA does. They’re spies and not law enforcement. Shrug.
$50,000 lost like that?
Then written about with little remorse!
I have so many questions about the author’s upbringing and family wealth.
So cluelessly clueless.
I’m instantly suspicious.
Where I grew up you kept a “dummy wallet” (a fake wallet stuffed with expired cards and a little cash) on you in case of a robbery at gun point.
Take it, it’s yours.
Let ‘em have it, laugh and whisper “you sad fool” as they run away with nothing.
$50,000?
No! I’ll hunt you down for a pound of vengeful flesh.
I could almost afford a modern SUV with that kind of cash.
Almost.
Not that I’d want one.
Old cars are the best defense in an environment ruled by criminals.
Maybe an old Kia in the driveway.
A dummy wallet of scrap metal…
“The only smart way to keep your money safe is clearly to transform that wealth into many non-running cars that you can then litter about your property or along a nearby street.”
I’m good since that is already my goal and dream in life
I fully support this sort of financial advice. That said, I can see a spot behind my barn that should probably be occupied by a shitbox, er, *investment* (or three).
To Marketplace!
Later on:
But honey, Torch said this was more secure than cash. I mean, it’s not like that ‘89 Toyota it going anywhere anytime in the near future. It’s practically paying us to stay here!
My right-hand-drive Fairlady 280Z is an appreciating asset… cool!
I mean come on I don’t believe what she wrote for a second.
It’s so smug and self-assured. I can’t fall for scams, I floss! I’m an emergency contact! Okay, and? It’s full of needless details to deflect and defuse the blazing spotlight of responsibility shining on her. He had an English accent! Okay, and?
Thankfully, I’ve proactively followed Torch’s advice and have my net worth tied up in a 20 year old BMW.
This is the way.
What I’m taking from this is starting Monday, Shitbox Showdown will be retitled Financial Automotive Face-Off, known by its acronym FAFO.
I would also have accepted Shoebox Shakedown.
As I have long suspected, I am immensely wealthy:
https://live.staticflickr.com/65535/52802596126_36822bc552_c.jpg
Oooo… looka those HYUUUGE… tracts a’land!!
Nice.
Get a load of Mr Richie Rich over here
Now I have a new excuse to give my wife for dumping even more money into that project car! It’s basically a savings account on wheels. Thanks, Autopian!
Great headline.
It almost caught Adrian’s masterpiece in word count.
A Car Magazine Convinced Me The 1990 Ford Escort Was Trash. Now That I’ve Driven One I’m Here To Defend It From The Classist And Wrongheaded Editors Of The October 1990 Issue Of Autocar – The Autopian
Is it wrong that my take on this is now I really want to buy that Lancia from Mark’s showdown this week?
Survey SAYS….
DO IT!!!
My dad (super savvy, wildly intelligent) got scammed by some stupid Microsoft support call center near the end of his life. I suspect it was related to developing a super aggressive cancer. He got diagnosed within a few weeks. If something seems off with a loved one, encourage them to get a checkup.
My wife’s uncle has been falling for scams like this ever since he had a massive stroke. They prey on vulnerable people. He lives with his adult daughter and her family now, but between calls and emails it’s impossible to catch all of them before they reach him. Fuck these scammers.
Good advice. I had some odd minor pains kind of like pulled muscles in my abdomen just a couple months ago and decided to go in to get it looked at. Turned out to be early appendicitis that they were able to treat with just antibiotics (though they give it a 30% chance it could come back within a few years). Anyway, it seemed like it was going to be nothing and I usually ignore such things (as I had for a few days at that point), but I figured I’m getting older and it turned out to be good that I went in.
My Dad, in a similar condition, fell for a similar scam that locked him out of his laptop. Fortunately, my son has a super bright friend that knew how to defeat the Bios lockout. Apparently you have to hit a series of keys quickly during boot-up.
She got conned because she believes she is an important person with credentials and achievements out the wazoo. So, of course Amazon and the CIA would call her! Why wouldn’t they?
Her description of the kinds of people who fall for scams is even more revealing: she just got scammed out of 50k and she matched none of those descriptors. My god, could she be wrong? To be fair (to be fair, to be fair ..) , she was trying to admit that, but there’s still a lot of “how could this happen to me” in her article.
Once you’re deep in a con, even when you suspect you’re being conned, you don’t want to believe it and most will stay in to the bitter end, as she did. I’m sorry she got conned … but then not sorry.
I think your precious metals approach is the wisest course, and that scares me.
(To be fair)
To be faaaaair.
“Once you’re deep in a con, even when you suspect you’re being conned, you don’t want to believe it and most will stay in to the bitter end “
I thought that we try to keep politics out of the comments. On the flip side, Senator Menendez did a PSA on proper wealth storage.
Best we can do is turn con artists into convicts. We should just make all politicians wear orange jumpsuits from day one in office, so that it’s easier to remember what they are and so they can be ready for the transition to prison after their terms are up.
Literally cold hard cash?
I used to be a bank manager, would get people in at least once a month who were being scammed and were being instructed to withdraw a large amount of cash or send a wire transfer. One guy was an 80something year old retired engineer who thought a company in the UAE was hiring him to consult on a runway expansion project in Spain, they were supposed to pay him a retainer of $25,000, but “accidentally” sent a check for $50,000, and asked him to just deposit it and wire back the excess, another guy kept sending money to a woman in Russia who he was going to meet in Canada and marry one day. I got him to accept that she was scamming him, but he decided that he still loved her and she must really be in trouble and need money badly to be doing all that, so he was still going to send it to her. We closed his accounts and gave him a check for the balances and told him to find another bank.
Sad and frustrating.
I do half wonder if the author’s perception of typical scam victims is clouded because there’s a bunch of people who are convinced they’re too smart to fall for something and have the means to weather the loss, so they just don’t admit it, so all you hear about is someone’s grandma or great uncle getting scammed out of like $2500.
You can be candid, own up to a mistake, and still be an entitled (or at least grossly misqualified) idiot. When the president of the absolute monarchy of Communist Autopia sends you a wire request, you should at least pause and look at a tree or building or your own two eyes in a mirror and ask yourself, “just because I know my bank’s routing number offhand, am I too smart to wire away $50k blindly?” If the answer is yes, repeat until it is no.
Also, what kind of financial advisor is keeping 50k in readily accessible savings accounts earning maybe, MAYBE 2%? Liquidity is important, but damn. Your money isn’t working for you. At least put it in a friggin CD and get 5% and maybe you pace with inflation.
Yes, 100%
Not to defend said advisor, but high yield savings/money market accounts are currently on par with CD rates, without the lack of access annoyances. We maintain both, as sometimes it’s nice to have that rate assured for the future as well, but that has put us in the situation where roughly half of our laddered CDs are making less than a savings account.
Can you do offset mortgages in the US? In Australia we can, it’s basically the best interest rate in town, and tax free. Having the rainy day fund just sitting in that’s actually a good deal. Along with keeping your credit line open.
Also, for some people $50k is near literal pocket change. They would just have that in cash.
Falling for the scam, well that’s another thing…
No, mortgage offset accounts are not a thing here. I wish so much that they were, but nope.
On the flip side, your 30-year mortgage here in the US will most likely have a fixed rate for the entire term, which is either good or bad depending on your perspective (and when you took one out), but not a thing in Australia.
Yeah, when I heard about that fixed for life thing,I near on fell off my chair. We went from 2% to 6% in the space of 12 months.
Yikes, that’s brutal!