Category: Colorado Life

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Bats

The day my son, Jason, discovered a dead bat on my terrace was a lucky day, indeed. Only in retrospect, can I say that.

At the end of June, I noticed an unusual amount of animal droppings in my terrace. I thought it was from mice. After all, when I moved into my new home, one of the first things I did was call an exterminator to move mountains of mouse poop and dead mice from inside my home. I hadn’t seen signs of mice since last October.

When I noticed the increased pile of rodent poop, I brought mouse poison in from the garage and placed it in the terrace. It didn’t work. The droppings only became more obvious. Then I saw what I thought was a dead mouse. Luckily, Jason was coming to give me a ride to my grandson’s baseball game.

“Jason, while you are here, can you get rid of this dead mouse for me? I’m squeamish around dead animals.”

“Mom, that’s not a dead mouse. That’s a bat!”

Jason scooped up the bat, put it in a paper bag, and dropped it in the trash. I googled “bat poop” and learned that “it’s often mistaken for mouse poop.” I called the exterminator right away.

My original exterminator only deals with mice, rats and bugs. He told me to call his friend, Jake, who owns his own company, Envirocritters, and “relocates” small animals, including bats.

Jake came the next day and confirmed that I definitely had bat poop in my terrace and bats in my attic. He showed me where the bats had come in from holes near the roof. They had probably been coming in for years, and recently migrated back to Colorado from their winter home. He explained how he would plug the holes and then add exclusion traps that would allow the bats to fly out of the house, but not return.

I loved getting to know Jake. He is a happy, friendly guy who loves his job relocating animals ~ except maybe occasionally when an animal doesn’t take kindly to his invitation to “move along.”

In addition to removing bats, Jake gets rid of squirrels, skunks, raccoons, pigeons and woodpeckers, snakes (including rattlesnakes), foxes and coyotes, gophers and voles, bees and wasps, and rabbits. When he comes across a box turtle, he keeps it in an enclosure in his back yard. They are his pets.

“Oh, ha!” I told Jake that I had a rabbit living under my house. He said he could relocate the rabbit, as well.

Soon the bats were gone. The pile of poop got smaller every day. Fredy (my friend who lives upstairs with his wife, Paula) found one more dead bat trying to escape through the attic fan. I saw the last bat fly out of the terrace on the 4th of July.

But this is not where my story ends. Oh, no! After the bats were gone, I discovered a much more horrible pest in my house: Bat Bugs! They are a first cousin to bed bugs, but feast on bat blood. When bats are removed, they turn to humans. Ay, no!!!

Fredy saw two live bat bugs upstairs, and I saw two more in my living quarters. I took pictures and sent them to my original exterminator, who confirmed that bat bugs look like bed bugs, “but their bite is much worse.”. He said he could get rid of them “but it isn’t easy.”  I was lucky that no one had been bitten (yet!) and there were no brown stains on the sheets.

The process of getting rid of bat bugs is the same as for bed bugs: Lots of heat and strong poison. All bedding and clothing had to be washed in hot water and dried for 30 minutes at the hottest possible dryer temperature. Mattresses needed to be removed from the beds, and placed upright on the floor. All drawers needed to be emptied and removed from the dressers.

Furniture needed to be moved away from walls, exposing all baseboards. Clean clothes needed to be stored in black plastic bags until the whole process was finished.

Jason helped me move furniture and carry bags of clothing and bedding to and from the basement. The exterminator came last week for round one and returns today to finish the job. With luck, poison, and the Colorado heat, every last one of the nasty bugs will be dead.

And then starts the process of putting everything back together again.

What will be my most lasting memory of the Summer of 2024? You guessed it. It is the year of bats, bugs and bunnies.

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Johnny

Johnny and his mother, Gail, lived on my floor in Heather Gardens. I am using their real names because they are no long alive. Gail died on Christmas Day. Johnny died this spring. They were two of my favorite, most memorable, neighbors. I am one of the few people who would say that.

I believe each person has a story. After we die, there is one story that becomes our legacy. Gail’s legacy is that she was born profoundly deaf. That is her story. But she was also a very bright, social woman who had a college degree and raised two sons. Her speech was almost impossible to understand but that didn’t stop her from being the first person to welcome  me to the building. She was always happy to see me. Even as I was getting ready to move and she had advanced dementia and was scaring people, Gail remained one of my favorite people.

Johnny’s story is that he was homeless before he moved in to take care of his mother. That is his legacy, but he was so much more than a dutiful son. He was a tall, unkempt man who was a licensed electrician. He preferred to sleep outside. He made friends easily (except in my building) because he was kind and generous. He was creative and loved to play tricks on people. He decorated his door in elaborate motifs for every holiday. He was especially fond of St. Patrick’s Day and thought of himself as an overgrown leprechaun. Once he decorated his doorway in giant spiders.

Johnny had a special love for his homeless friends, a love that was not shared by the residents of my building. He hired a woman named Marie, who may or may not have been his common-law wife, to move in to his take care of Gail so he could earn money as an on-call electrician for the local electrician’s union.

The bond between Gail and Marie was obvious. Whereas other people fought with Gail and insisted they were right, Marie never told her no. When Gail wanted to play games, they played games. When Gail wanted to put together jigsaw puzzles, they did puzzles. If Gail didn’t want to take a shower, Marie took a shower herself, and called it “good enough.” Marie cooked food and Gail ate it. Gail stopped going out in the hallway and bothering people. Marie did their laundry in the community laundry room, even though she could hear the mean things that the residents said to her. I thought she was a skinny saint in rags and purple hair.

After Marie moved in, Johnny gradually started inviting some of his other homeless friends to stop by, as well. They came to say hello to Gail and Marie. Many of them came to take a shower and wash their hair. They left after about an hour, clean and happy. I liked talking to them. Many of them were intelligent people who had made some very bad choices in their lives. Most of them still had all their teeth.

One night in May, 2023, I rode down in the elevator with a newly washed young man and his bicycle. I wished him a good night and then told him that I was on my way to meet some friends. I was celebrating my 80th birthday. The man shook my hand and then reached into his back pocket for his billfold. He took out the only money he had, a five dollar bill, and gave it to me.

“Happy Birthday!” he said.

“Oh, no. I can’t take your money.”

“But I want you to have it. It isn’t everyday that you turn eighty years old.”

“That’s true. But if you really want me to have a happy birthday, you will take that money and buy yourself something to eat.”

My last day in the building, I knocked on Gail’s door to say goodby. She wasn’t wearing any clothes and obviously didn’t remember who i was. She looked happy. I told Marie to let Johnny know that I came to say goodby.

Three months later Gail died in hospice care. Six months later, Johnny also died. He had multiple forms of cancer and was in terrible pain. We never knew he was sick.

May Johnny and Gail rest in peace. I will hold them in my heart forever.

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My New Digs

Where have I been for the past six months? Obviously, not writing my blog! Instead I was working on a new project. An interesting, fascinating, huge project. I moved to new digs. Again. Here’s the true story. Nothing is changed to protect the guilty.

Last summer I knew I needed to move to a different home. I thought I would be happy living in a beautiful condo in a 55+ community. My unit was on the third floor, overlooking a golf course. What’s not to love? For me, it was everything. 

I was so desperate to move that I asked my son, Jason, to negotiate a trade ~ my beautiful condo for a filthy, mouse-infested free-standing home occupied by an extreme hoarder. If you have ever seen a show about hoarders, I assure you that this place was worse. After a whole summer of drama, the hoarder and I finally closed the deal on September 15. And then the fun began! But not before the previous owner (P.O.) filed a police report, accusing me of stealing all her things and “ruining her life.” 

My renovation began by moving mountains of P.O.’s possessions. She took some things with her ~ a full Pod plus two U-Haul trailers full of things. What was left behind filled eighteen roll-off dumpsters. Ramón, who had no front teeth, oversaw a crew of ten skinny men, who worked tirelessly for six days filling dumpsters. Every time they thought they had cleared another room in my home, they opened a closet and found a mountain of smelly worthless possessions oozing out onto the floor.

My neighbors were overjoyed that someone new was moving in and that P.O. was moving out. They sat outside in small groups on their lawns and watched the action. They cheered when another dumpster rolled down the street. By the fourth day they were drinking champagne and toasting the dumpster drivers, as yet another dumpster lumbered down the street.

I bought the house, sight unseen because it was not possible for anyone to get past the front door, including an inspector who deemed the house, “the worse (he) had even seen.” When the last dumpster roared away, I was finally able to see the inside of my new home. I was overjoyed. It needed a lot of work and smelled terrible, but it was clearly a diamond in the rough. 

Some people rescue children. Some rescue the environment. I guess I rescue houses. I used more than thirty-five vendors in all. They were kind, funny, incredibly skilled tradesmen. They worked well together and sang while they worked. The put in long hours, and often came on Saturdays to finish a project. They were my loyal friends. I could never have moved into my new home without them. I am forever grateful for every one of them.

My story has a happy ending. I spent four months and a considerable amount of money rehabilitating my new home. It’s now beautiful and no longer smells of urine.

I love my new neighborhood and I have great neighbors. I rented the upstairs of my home to a delightful couple from Columbia. I feel like I am back in Mexico, sharing my large kitchen and living with friends from another country. I know I am lucky, indeed.

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Eagle’s Birthday

 

I went to a very special birthday party a week ago. My friend, Eagle, turned forty-six. Eagle’s mom, Georgann, hosted a party at Old Chicago Pizza for twenty-five of Eagle’s friends. It was a great gathering of friends and loyal supporters. The only person missing was Eagle’s sister, Jennifer, who called in via FaceTime from her home in North Carolina.

I loved meeting Eagle’s friends. Steve, Andy and Colleen are Eagle’s dear friends from pre-school. Others, like Chaurice and Debbie, are good friends from elementary school. Eagle’s massage therapist, Lizzie, came with her two children. A lot of family friends, including the family doctor, were there because they love Eagle and wanted to wish him a happy birthday.

Eagle got his name when he was born. Georgann and Jim Hall talked about having another child when Jim achieved his Air Force Colonel’s rank. “When Jim puts on his Colonel’s Eagle insignia, we will add a little eaglet to our family,” Georgann told all their friends. Eagle was born three years later. 

Eagle’s birth was difficult. He didn’t cry immediately and needed to have fluid suctioned from his lungs.  He was whisked away to the Neonatal ICU, where all the nurses referred to him as “Baby Eagle” and described his as “strong, determined, tough, and wants to live.” Eagle has been his his name ever since. He is still determined to meet every challenge that life puts in front of him.

Life hasn’t always been easy for Eagle. He had numerous surgeries at a toddler, including one to rebuild his windpipe. His father, B. Gen. Jim Hall, died in 2014, after a long illness. Both Eagle and Georgann have ongoing medical concerns that require frequent monitoring. They have shown amazing resilience, throughout, and always smile and live their lives with tenacity and grace.

Eagle graduated from special education at Overland High School in 1996. Now he lives in his own apartment and works the three busiest hours of the day in the kitchen at Anschutz hospital. He likes to write and loves watching sports and current events on TV.

He is on a Special Olympics bowling team and belongs to a weekly men’s group with his friends. Eagle and his friends like going to community activities before getting something to eat. He is a wiz at using the computer, and navigates his cell phone better than a lot of people I know. Eagle loves learning new things and helping others learn, as well. He is a kind, patient, enthusiastic teacher.

Georgann made a beautiful speech at Eagle’s party, thanking everyone for being there. “You’ve been with us through the worst of times and the best of times,” Georgann noted. She gave credit to the school programs that were available to the whole family. Although I didn’t know Eagle when he was in school, I worked in the same district. I agreed with Georgann that Eagle was fortunate to work with some of the best teachers and mental health professionals I’ve ever known.

The most important thing to know about Eagle now, is that he is incredibly cheerful. He believes it is his job to learn to take of himself. He loves people and makes lifelong friends wherever he goes.

Happy Birthday, Dear Sweet Eagle! Happy Birthday to you! 

Birthday photos by Debbie Harrington.

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I Love My Uber Drivers

I love my Uber drivers! If I could, I would live in a community of nothing but Uber drivers. They are friendly and smart. They hard-working and interesting to talk to. And, for the most part, they are unrelentingly cheerful.

In September, 2022, I sold my car. It was a cute 2015 red Juke. It was a nice car but I was tired of driving. I was tired of traffic. I was tired of people honking at me, for no reason at all.

I did the math. I drove less than 6000 miles/year and I paid a lot of money for insurance, gas, and maintenance. And then I hit a “no left turn” sign. You’re right! I hit the sign, just as I tried to turn left.

The paramedics who came were kind and helpful. One directed traffic as the other one dislodged my car from the sign post. I wasn’t hurt but I was embarrassed as I took my car to the body shop for repair. That’s when I decided I was ready to turn in my keys.

I sold my my car for $16,000.00. That’s a lot of Uber rides! So far I’ve had only one not-so-great experience. The driver yelled at me when I pointed out an easier way to take me home. I hate being yelled at. I spoke up and told him that if he wanted a tip, he’d better not yell at me. He was quiet for the rest of the way, but then he gave me a “one star” review as a rider, making sure he’d never have to drive me anywhere again.

I love that my drivers are from all over the world. They remind me of my Airbnb guests. My favorites are the drivers from Africa and Mexico. They have great stories about how they came to the United States and how their families have adjusted to being here.

I usually choose Uber Green because I like to support electric cars. And, mostly, because a lot of those cars are Teslas. Tesla has an agreement with Uber to rent cars to drivers for a nominal fee. I’ve ridden in Teslas of every color.  Often I have a different driver, with a different color Tesla, on both legs of my trip. I tell people “I traded my Nisson for a Tesla.”

I’m glad I decided to sell my car and stop driving. After sixty years behind the wheel, I love being in the passenger seat. When I reach my destination, I say goodbye to the driver with the same speech every time.

“Thank you for getting me safely to my destination. I’ve enjoyed riding with you. I will probably never see you again, but I’d be happy if I did. In the meantime, I will hold you in my heart for the rest of today.” And then I add, “Please give me five stars.”

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I Loved Lucy

My friend, Lucy, died last week.

Lucy and I moved into Heather Gardens Building 210 the same week and we quickly became friends. In a building where most people stay hidden behind closed doors, Lucy was an exception. She was out and about every day. A day without Lucy was a day without sunshine!

Here are the Top Ten Things I will miss most about her.

#10. Her wicked sense of humor. She loved telling me whenever there had been “a murder on the golf course.” She was referring to a goose who had been killed, usually by a coyote. She took me see the murder scene. We never found the goose but the area was littered with  feathers. I helped Lucy gather up the feathers to take home, much to the chagrin of her family, who are still cleaning feathers out of her apartment.

#9. Her laugh. Lucy was often the first person I would see in the morning. Her big smile and hearty laugh always started my day out right.

#8. Her stamina. Lucy walked all day long. She put more miles on her walker than I did on my car. 

#7. Her stories about growing up in Texas. Lucy was a great story-teller. She had a big life and her stories of rodeos and boarding school were magical to me. I grew up in Minnesota, where life is “pretty friggin’ boring” as Lucy was fond of saying.

#6. Her authenticity. Lucy told it like it was. There was no bull-shit from Lucy. 

And #5 … no filters. She maybe never had any filters. I found it refreshing to hear her swear every now and then. I hope this isn’t new information to any of you who knew her. I’m losing some of my filters, too.

#4. Her genuine love of people. Lucy made friends wherever she went. One day she sat on a bench with a new friend. They had such a good conversation, the woman gave her one of her old straw cowboy hats to wear. Lucy wore her new cowboy hat all day long, as she pushed her walker up and down the sidewalk.

#3. Her ability to amuse herself, especially when it was challenging to do so. She talked to her cat. She called dumpster-diving “my new hobby” and was delighted when she found a new treasure to haul home. She watched squirrels steal food from her bird feeder. She took special delight knowing that bird feeders are against the rules at Heather Gardens.

And #2. Lucy didn’t mind breaking the rules. I only wish she had lived a little longer, so we could break a few more.

#1. Her love for her cat. But mostly her love for her family ~ two daughters, one son, and her grandchildren. She loved above them all.

Adios, mi amiga. Vaya con Dios!

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A Gaggle of Geese

Now it is fall. A totally  different season for me to admire from my balcony and my daily walks through the golf course.

There are still leaves on the trees, although they are beginning to drift toward the ground.

There are still golfers, although a lot fewer of them every day. Their days start later and end sooner. Instead of wearing bright shirts and cute shorts, they arrive in sweatshirts and long pants..

Squirrels still chase each other along the paths and tease the dogs. A few ducks still swim in the ponds. Some things never change.

 

Something else that doesn’t change are the geese that peck their way through the grass and poop on the sidewalks all day, every day. Legend  is that there are about seventy geese that make Heather Gardens their permanent home.

I like the geese. I like their bad-ass ways. I like their swagger and the fact that they own the place. The own the sand traps and the putting greens. They own the roads and the ponds. Although they still prefer to waddle and swim in follow-the-leader lines, they aren’t practicing for a flight to a warmer climate. They have found a warmer climate and they are staying put.

I will miss the geese and this beautiful view while I am in Mexico. I will miss the smell of fresh-cut grass, and greeting the dog-walkers on my path.  I will miss the crisp early-morning air.

But I won’t miss dodging goose-poop.

Photo by Joan Obeslo, Bldg. 210, Heath Gardens

 

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The Things I Carry

I’ve started packing for my trip to Mexico in two weeks. It’s my nature to do things early. Some of the things I pack might surprise you.

For example, one time I took a water pump for an old Ford pickup. I put it in my backpack, so of course I had to explain myself when I went through TSA Security.

“Ma’am, exactly what is this?” asked the TSA guy.

“It’s a water pump for a Ford pick-up truck.”

“Why is it in your backpack?”

“I’m bringing it to a friend in Mazatlán.”

“Don’t they have water pumps in Mexico?”

“I guess not. He asked me to find one for him in the auto salvage yard.”

The TSA guy softened right away. “You must be a good friend,” he said.

“I bet you are a good friend, too. I think you would have done the same thing.”

“You’re right. I try to help my friends whenever I can. Have a good day.”

Actually I wan’t thrilled at having to carry a heavy water pump in my backpack, but the TSA guy made me feel a lot better about it.

Another time, I carried fifty yards of fiberglass fabric in a roll inside a very tall box. The box was 5’7.” I am only 5’2. It weighed about as much as a water pump. Ernesto needed it because he was building surfboards and couldn’t find any fiberglass in Mexico. He ordered it from a surf supply shop in San Diego and had it sent to my house in Denver.

After being dropped off at the airport, I maneuvered my bulky box inside, along with my purse, a large suitcase and my backpack. I d watched my box, tagged as “oversized luggage,” as it went down the conveyor belt to the airplane. When I got to the airport in Mexico, I  claimed my box and headed for Customs.

“What is in this box?” The Customs official wanted to know. She wasn’t as nice as the TSA guy.

“It’s 50 yards of fiberglass fabric.”

“Why do you have it?”

“My friend needs it for building surfboards.”

“Don’t we sell fiberglass in Mexico?”

“I guess not.”

“Do you have a receipt showing how much you paid for it?”

“I’m sorry. I don’t have a receipt. But it wasn’t very expensive.”

I was taken into a small room. I was told to leave my box outside but I could bring my purse, my backpack and my suitcase with me. The Customs official interrogated me and told me I would have to pay a “tax” to bring the fiberglass into the country because I didn’t have a receipt. 

We’ve been through this before, dear reader. Of course, it wasn’t a tax. It was a bribe. I didn’t care. I paid $25.00 and was on my way.

The Customs official also searched my purse, to make sure I wasn’t bringing any contraband into the country. When I got to my destination, I found that a beautiful rosary I brought for Ernesto’s mother was missing. I think it ended up in someone’s pocket. And, yes, they do sell rosaries in Mexico.

So now I know the drill. No more water pumps or rolls of fiberglass. Instead, I bring smaller gifts for Ernesto. I bring things that are expensive in Mexico and that I can easily purchase at the local thrift store for almost nothing. Here’s a list of things I bring every time:

  • Board shorts
  • Sunglasses
  • Reading glasses
  • Razors and extra blades
  • Dress shirts
  • T-shirts with surfer logos
  • Swim goggles

And I also bring things for the kitchen:

  • A couple of sharp knives
  • Dish towels
  • Measuring cups and spoons
  • Spices for making chai tea
  • Instant tea without lemon
  • Nightlights and flashlights

I don’t bring many clothes. I don’t have room for them in my suitcase.

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A Big Decision

You might think I’ve lost my mind. You won’t be the only one. 

About a month ago I had a conversation with myself.

Me: “Self, what would you do if you didn’t think you were too old?”

Self: “I would spend next winter in Mexico. The whole winter. You know how much I hate the cold.”

Me: “Just do it. Figure it out and do it. After all, you bought this condo so you could go places. That’s the beauty of living on the third floor. Just lock the door and go.”

And in my typical, impulsive fashion, I immediately went on the Airbnb website and booked two stays in Mazatlan: October 2 – December 6 and again from January 15 – March 15. It felt good.

About a week later, I had another talk with Self.

“Self, what should I do about my car if I’m in Mexico all winter.”

Self scratched her head and noted, “Hmmm. I wonder. I don’t think it will be safe in the parking garage. Cars are vandalized and stolen every month. Maybe you should just sell it. You drive less than 6000 miles/year. See what it’s like to go without a car. You can always buy another used car next spring if you really want to.” That felt even better!

I learned to drive when I was sixteen but I never loved driving the way a lot of people do. It took me an entire summer of driver’s ed to pass the test. Mr. Norberg, the school’s basketball coach, was my driver’s ed teacher. He yelled at me three times a week as I got behind the wheel and practiced nothing but right-hand turns. The only person who was a worse student driver was my friend, Linda Lawrence. Linda jumped a curb and smashed into a house during one of her driver’s ed sessions. I think she’s still driving, albeit in a small town in northern Minnesota.

Finally I graduated to left-hand turns and eventually to parallel parking. This was in North St. Paul, MN ~ a town of 2000 people. Now I’m driving in Denver, where about a million new drivers are on the road every year. Hardly anyone takes driver’s ed any more. A lot of people learn by watching YouTube videos. It’s simply terrifying.

This spring, when I broke my leg, I discovered the joy of taking Uber. The drivers, mostly from Ethiopia and Eritrea, are kind and polite. They drive better than I do. Most of my trips cost less than $10.00. I relax and enjoy the ride.

Last week I put my car up for sale. Because used cars are at a premium, I’ll earn enough money for a lifetime of Uber rides. I won’t have to buy gas, pay for car insurance or renew my license plates. I can take an Uber to meet friends for dinner and  I can order a margarita because I won’t be driving. I can go places at night, if I want to, without worrying about headlights blinding me on the way home.

My car is listed on Craig’s List and I put up posters on our community bulletin board. Jason is handling the sale for me because he’s a much better negotiator. And he knows how to talk “car talk.”  

My car, a 2015 red Nissan Juke, has less than 39,000 miles on it. It gets good mileage and has brand new tires. If you know someone who is looking for a great car, give me a call.

Or better yet, call Jason: 720-334-4896

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A Cautionary Tale

This week I dodged a bullet. Barely. Let me explain. I don’t want the same thing to happen to you.

Step One: I received an email that looked legitimate. It said my Amazon account was charged $536.00 for Bitcoins. It further said that if I didn’t authorize that charge, I should immediately call the number on my screen.

What did I do? I called the number on my screen.

What I should have done? Look up my orders on Amazon, to see if a Bitcoin order had been placed. Obviously I don’t know enough about Bitcoins to know you don’t buy them on Amazon.

Step Two:  A very nice person named Austin said that she was glad I called right away so she could stop the order. She said she was looking up my order and verified that someone on the “dark web” had placed the order and hacked into my Amazon account. She said that the hackers were established in California, Kansas, Mexico and Russia.

What did I do? I said “Thank you for helping me.”

What should I have done? Taken a deep breath. Been suspicious. Now Austin had my telephone number and I was headed down a rabbit hole.

Step Three: Austin said that in order to block my Amazon account, I needed to go to my local grocery store and wait for instructions.

What did I do? I said I didn’t want to go to the store because it was late and I was getting hungry. Austin continue to reassure me that this was important and she was there to help me. She told me not to hang up. She gave me her direct phone number in case we got disconnected.

What I should have done? Refused to go. Taken another deep breath. Had a glass of wine. Start to fix dinner. Anything ~ except get in my car and drive to the grocery store.

Step Four: I was at the grocery store and Austin was still connected to my phone. I had a text from Amazon, saying that $500.00 had been deposited into my credit card account. Austin told me to get an Amazon gift card for $500.00 and pay for it with my credit card. “You won’t be using your own money, because I just put $500.00 credit on your card,” she reassured me.

What did I do? Although this seemed strange, I did what I was told. There were no Amazon cards available, so Austin told me to get a Target card, “because Amazon and Target have an agreement to help each other with these fraud claims.” 

What should I have done? Checked my credit card balance to see if $500.00 had been deposited. It hadn’t.

Step Five: When I went to pay for the Target gift card with my credit card, the charge was declined. I left the store. Austin was still on hold. I told her what happened. She said I needed to call my credit card company to authorize the charge. I couldn’t input my credit card number on my keypad, so Austin volunteered to place the call for me. She listened in as I stated my credit card number. When the customer service person asked for my full social security number, I gave it to her! 

What did I do? Exactly what I was told. Chase credit card said they would authorize the charge. I returned to the store to buy the gift card. 

What should I have done? Asked more questions. Hang up. By this time I was very annoyed. I was starting to not like Austin at all. It was now almost two hours since the scam started. 

Step Six: Austin told me to read her the card number and the access code. 

What did I do? I read her the card number and access code.

What I should have done? Taken my gift card and gone home. By this time, I was arguing with Austin. She remained calm. I was a screaming banshee.

Step Seven: Austin thanked me for being so helpful. She again assured me that she would clear my Amazon account with this Target card. Then, she told me I needed to go back into the store to buy TWO MORE Target gift cards. She sent me another text stating that my credit card had now been credited for an additional $1000.00.

What did I do? I argued profusely. I said this didn’t seem right, but again I did what I was told. When I tried to buy two more gift cards, my credit card declined the charge. 

What I should have done: Gone home!

Step Eight: I came back to the car to talk to Austin, who was still on the phone. She said we needed to call my credit card company again. This time the wait time was going to be “more than 30 minutes.”

What did I do? I was now fully crazed. I was yelling at Austin. I told her I didn’t believe her any more. I hung up the phone and started my car. Austin called me back and told me we needed to finish this. I told her I was finished.

Finally, when I was home, nearly three hours after getting the first email, I did what I should have done in the first place:

  • Been very suspicious. Know that scammers are everywhere!
  • Googled the phone number that appeared in my email. The number was registered in China.
  • Looked at my Amazon account. There was no charge for Bitcoins. I called Amazon to report my experience to the fraud detection team.
  • Called my credit card company to alert them about the hoax. They immediately canceled my card. Today, they removed the $500.00 charge I placed for the first gift card.
  • Checked the Target card to see if there was any balance on there. Of course, there wasn’t. Austin had already taken the money from the gift card. It was a classic scam, and I fell for it. 

I am chagrined to tell you what happened to me. I feel stupid. I know this has happened to a lot of people but I thought it couldn’t happen to me. I know I was lucky not to lose any money, but I could have. I still might.