Guardian columnist Tim Dowling found himself at the receiving end of one of the most bizarre and unprofessional scam calls imaginable, an incident that left him questioning the very nature of modern fraud.
A Call from the Unknown
Dowling, who typically avoids answering calls from unrecognised numbers, made an exception while awaiting a callback about a potential interview. The voice on the other end was male, and the background noise suggested a busy call centre. The caller immediately launched into urgent questions about an unspecified account, a classic scam opener. However, the interaction swiftly derailed.
When Dowling repeatedly asked "What account?" and "With who?", the scammer's composure cracked. The journalist distinctly heard a giggle, which soon escalated into open laughter. The fraudster, hysterical and unable to continue his script, eventually left Dowling listening to nothing but helpless snorts before he hung up.
The Galling Lack of Professionalism
Bewildered and slightly offended, Dowling recounted the event to his eldest son, who found the situation equally amusing. They theorised the caller might have been a novice scammer on his first day, who had forgotten the crucial part of the script where he pretends to be from a bank.
"Either way, it's the lack of professionalism I find galling," Dowling remarked. "Even the people trying to con me out of my savings can't be bothered to take it seriously." This incident underscored a broader confusion in daily life, where the line between deliberate fraud and sheer incompetence has become increasingly blurred.
A History of Modern Confusion
Dowling reflected on another puzzling event from the previous year. While waiting for a parcel, he received a delivery confirmation text featuring a photo of a stranger named Dave, wearing a pink snowflake jumper, holding the package on his own doorstep. This elaborate-seeming error was resolved only when the actual package arrived later, leaving Dowling none the wiser about the mix-up.
To combat such intrusions and manipulations, Dowling once invented a fictional personal assistant named Ron. Ron was charmless, monosyllabic with cold callers, and expertly unhelpful—a persona Dowling describes as his "truest self" in these situations. Ron, unlike Tim, always knew what was going on.
Returning to his shed after the laughing scammer incident, Dowling received another unknown call. Instinctively channelling Ron's dismissive tone, he answered. This time, it was the genuine interview subject calling back. Dowling swiftly switched to his bright, professional voice, pen and notepad at the ready, a stark contrast to the chaotic and confusing interaction that had preceded it.
