I answered a scam phone call the other day, you know, one of the ones that pretend to be something legitimate like the IRS? I keep a landline as a decoy, only give my cell number to people I really trust, so that’s the one the telemarketers and robocalls usually go after. I had been cleaning my apartment when the phone rang, and when the caller ID showed an obviously spoofed number I took a break from my labors. I figured fucking with the scammer would be a nice distraction from scrubbing the bathtub. The guy, in a refreshing twist, did not sound like an Indian pretending to have an American accent. This guy had a thick Midwestern drawl that never wavered, so it was probably genuine.
“Hello, this is [mumble] calling from the IRS. Our records show a discrepancy with your account and you need to settle that payment as soon as possible.” I could practically see the script this guy was reading from. “I’ll need a working credit card number and your social security number.”
“I’m sorry, I didn’t catch that first part?” I was already grinning in anticipation of the obstacle course I was going to put this guy through.
He sighed, like I was being difficult. He hadn’t even begun to see me get difficult. “Our records show—”
“No,” I interrupted, “your name. I didn’t quite catch that?”
“Ma’am, my name is not important. You need to make good on your debt. I have 911 ready on the other line and you will be arrested for failure to pay.”
My, the little fuckers were forward, weren’t they? I ramped up my act.
“Oh my, what ever could be wrong with my tax return? I’ve only been blackmailing my employees for sex, that’s not considered embezzlement, is it?”
“Ma’am, you will be treated as a hostile party during arrest if you do not cooperate.”
“Oh please don’t take my vast fortune, it’s all tied up in gift cards!” I wailed.
The guy on the phone let out another annoyed sigh. “Ma’am, you can’t treat the IRS like a joke. What year do you think this is?”
“The year of our lord 2017,” I said as dramatically as I could.
His end of the line went quiet.
“That’s not funny,” he finally said.
“Oh what, did your OS forget to roll over during y2k?” I asked. “Cracked software can do that sometimes. Do me a favor and delete your win32 file, that should fix things right up.”
“Ma’am, it is 1985 and you are in arrears to the United States government. I will call the police if you do not cooperate.”
That made me pause. What the fuck kind of game was this guy playing?
I decided I wanted to see more. “I hate to break this to you, buddy, but it just turned 2017 about a month ago. I have the celebrity deaths counter to prove it.”
His end of the line went quiet again. “That’s not…that isn’t possible. No, no, you’re just pranking me, which is a felon—”
“So you’re in 1985?” I sprawled sideways across my easy chair. “Can you go find Reagan for me? Slap him?”
“Prove it to me!” he barked. “Prove it’s 2017.”
I rolled my eyes. “Look, honey. I don’t have to prove shit to you. You’re trying to scam me out of my goddamn money.”
I could hear him breathing erratically on the other side. “They promised me I could go right back. If I worked, they said—I have a ten-year loan for God’s sake!”
“Where are you, a North Korean prison?” I asked.
“No, hell.” He said it so casually, like he was saying “at the office” or “just down the block.”
“You’re in hell?” I repeated back to him.
“Oh yeah. I got tricked into coming here a while ago. They said if I worked for them for a bit, they’d send me right back.” He started mumbling away from the receiver. I could catch a few words here and there, mostly swear words.
“So, what, you’re making cold calls in the middle of an inferno?”
“Oh, no. Actually, it’s a lot like an office. Everything’s grey. Even the computer screen. I have to squint real bad to read anything. At first I was glad, but y’know, I kinda feel like hellfire would be an improvement at this point. I never see anyone or talk to anyone. I just get the numbers and dial out.”
He was babbling and just sounded glad to hold a conversation with someone. It felt genuine. This was rapidly becoming really creepy.
“So hell wants you to scam people out of their money?” I got up and started pacing. “Did Satan declare bankruptcy?”
“Nope. It’s to make them desperate. People with no money tend to do things that get them into hell. Like the guy before me. Someone stiffed him on his GI bill. He got my credit info and in order to get my money back, I had to agree to fulfill his remaining time. I said yes and well—here I am.”
The amount of detail was unnerving. He didn’t stop or stumble through the whole speech.
“It’s not too bad. I mean, I don’t get a whole lotta love from the other end of the phone,” he continued, “but everything’s just so…grey, y’know? I don’t know how long I’ve been here, but the boredom just makes everything feel longer. I haven’t eaten or gone to the bathroom since I got here, haven’t needed to. That’s what made me think it hadn’t been that long. But now that you mention it…”
I was out of witty retorts at this point. What the fuck was this guy’s deal? Most scammers would just hang up the second they’d been found out. Why was he trying to sell this story?
“They told me it wouldn’t be that long. Time would fly by, they said. I’d go right back. They wouldn’t lie about that, would they?”
“What,” I blurted, “hell? Yeah, hell is renowned for being truthful.”
“But I haven’t even done anything, they can’t keep me here! I’m doing them a favor by working here, they’ll owe me.”
“Yeah? Well it doesn’t sound like it.”
The guy just rambled on like he hadn’t even heard me. “God, I shoulda got it in writing. I don’t know how much time I have left on my contract. Unless…”
I held my breath.
“You could take over my remaining time, couldn’t you?” His tone had gone hopeful. “You’ve got nothing going on, you’re answering the phone in the middle of a Saturday! You could help me out—”
I slammed down that phone so fast you’d swear my arm was spring-loaded. Then I pulled out the cord.
I’m probably going to disconnect the landline. Sure, it means I’ll have to be much more careful with my personal number, but at least you can install call-blocking apps on a cellphone.
I won’t be answering anymore unknown numbers, that’s for damn sure. I don’t know what’s more disturbing, the fact that a guy would inflate his lie to such an extreme…
…or the possibility that it wasn’t a lie.