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Six little digits

Technology advancement is wonderful. Thanks to the relentless focus on data as a valuable commodity there are many means of maintaining contact with friends, family, coworkers, businesses and advertisers that are based on acknowledged relationships between parties. As a result, the majority of the communication I engage in does not involve a conventional phone call.

Consequently, it was with great joy and anticipation that I answered my phone recently only to be greeted with a voice wanting to offer me access to an amazing investment opportunity! What a frabjous day it was turning out to be!

Of course, my joy was entirely a function of the fun I thought I was going to have. My expectations were met in this regard – I was very amused. 

Give me your number

Scammy calls of this nature always have a predictable, boring structure. For the purposes of giving an example, we shall call the lying, vindictive belligerent party in this scenario Scott Morrison.

Scott: Hello! Is this Ultimate Arsehole? I am from Dodgy As All Fuck Fake Investments and I have an amazing, fantastic opportunity for you! We have many happy investors and are eager to share the details of their success with you and help you reach your financial goals quickly and without any risk. Would you be interested in us sending you more details on our products?

At this point, there are many ways one could respond to useless pricks like Scott. Some of my favourites include:

  • Really? What are my financial goals specifically?
  • Can you provide me with a link to the ATO ruling that covers your product?
  • What’s your company’s ABN? The form on ScamWatch won’t let me submit reports without that.
  • What is the Morning Star rating on your product?
  • I only invest in mud wrestling promotions and brothels for livestock
  • Are your expense ratios calculated before or after deducting time lost to management masturbating and them praying for forgiveness for masturbating?

As the person in question was calling from an Australian number and was in fact calling an Australian number, I decided to try out a well-worn shortcut so I could get back to perfecting my masturbating-whilst-investing technique. I simply asked, “What is your organisation’s AFSL number?”

Hilarity ensues!

At this point, “Scott” started making a series of statement about as coherent as an inexperienced teenager in a barrel of Vaselined eels. 

Scott: Yes, I am from Dodgy As All Fuck Fake Investments – DAAFFI

UA: That’s interesting, and not even remotely an answer to my question. What is your Australian Financial Services License number?

Scott: Yes, we provide investment services.

UA: This really isn’t that hard. You’re selling financial services, and to do so you need to possess an AFS License – I ask again, what is your AFSL number?

Scott: The numbers for returns on investment are only available to customers.

UA: I’m sorry, but do you have some difficulties with comprehension or basic English? I’ve asked a simple question, and you either need to give me the requested answer or admit that you’re engaging in a scam.

At this point, I really thought this person would cut their losses and go dial a bogan named Keith or Theo. How wrong and amused I was….

Scott: Our number is 612 8103 4313.

At this point, one should probably have two pieces of information:

  1. An AFSL number is generally 6 digits long.
  2. “61” is the Country Code for Australia as allocated by the ITU

I could scarcely believe it myself – Scott had somehow decided to give me a phone number to satisfy my request for actual credentials. At this point, I laughed so hard that one of my cats attacked one of my feet, the local neighbourhood nutter complained about the noise and I learned about the effect of mineral water and saliva on Razer’s green keyboard switches. Scott was not impressed by the remainder of my response:

UA: That’s a phone number. In fact, it’s the phone number that was presented before I answered this call. Do you have an AFSL number or not?

Scott: Our address is on Pitt Street in Sydney…

At this point, I decided that I was overdue for my third wank of the evening and decided to wrap this fuckery up.

UA: Again, that statement has precisely nothing to do with my question. Do you know that you’re participating in a scam Scott or are you a victim like the Keiths, Nigels and Teeshans that you spout this fuckery at? 

Scott: <click>

TL;DR: Scammer is asked for a license number – provides their phone number in response. Was amusing, would repeat.

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Your internet has been hacked!

How long I have waited! How long I have hoped for this wonderful day!

In the last 7 days, I received a phone call that commenced with the sultry tones of GlaDOS, assuming she’d decided to go out on a bender of nutmeg and kerosene:

This call is from Telstra.

Your IP has been been hacked and is compromised. You need a new IP and a new router, and this will be provided free of charge. Please press 1 to talk to our Senior Technician.

How could I refuse? I pressed 1 with extreme enthusiasm and proceeded to talk to a person who we shall call Percival as to protect their identity (apologies to all persons named Percival who aren’t actual pricks).

Speaking to Percival was interesting, in the same way that attempting to save a towel from being swallowed by one’s toilet is interesting.

Percival: “Hello, I be Senior Technician Percival. Are you a Telstra customer?”

UA: “You tell me Percival – which IP address did I last secure a lease on ?”

Percival:  “Yes, your IP has been hacked. Your internet has been hacked.”

UA: “I don’t have ‘an internet’. What does ‘IP’ stand for?”

Percival: “Sir, I need to access your PC so I can fix your internet.”

UA: “You were asked a very simple question – answer it or go bugger a goat. Or a cow. Or both. Perhaps you can upload the footage to ‘your internet’ so someone can scam your stupid arse when they claim that your ‘IP’ has been ‘hacked’. Also, ‘IP’ stands for ‘Ignorant Peon’ – when did you last wank whilst huffing perfume in a Chemist?”

Percival: “I will find you and KILL YOU! <click>”

Well, I seemingly upset poor Percival. So much so that his manager Clarence decided to call me and provide more amusement:

Clarence: Sir, my good name be Clarence. Your internet has been hacked! Percival need to help you!

UA: You are so full of shit you cry brown tears.

Clarence: You are a racist! We are legitimate business!

UA: Ok – what are the last 3 digits of my payment instrument used to fund my Telstra account? I know that those details are available to all sales and support personnel.

Clarence: Do be confirming your credit card number so I can be providing the detail.

UA: Err….no

Clarence: But sir, I must have the info for doing the needful.

UA: I like cheese. Please cease to exist. <click>

I tied up Clarence and Percival for about an hour, got a hold of their call origins and network arrangements, sent then on to various legal and commercial entities and hopefully made their lives somewhat harder.

I do hope they call back – their sobbing was quite unique.

 

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I know UA personally…..

In this particular Arsehole’s day-to-day job, my beloved colleagues regularly get calls of the following formats:

  • Please put me through to the Arsehole. They are expecting my call! (I’m not)
  • I need to speak to the Arsehole as I am following up on an e-mail I sent them (They haven’t sent me a thing).
  • I am calling the Arsehole back, I did not get their number. (Not remotely true).
  • I know the Arsehole personally. You must put me through! (Then they should call me directly – I’m not hard to find).
  • I need to speak to the Arsehole now! No, I don’t want their e-mail address! Give me their mobile number!

As my most excellent colleagues were part of the inspiration behind this site, I thought their inappropriate abuse deserved appropriate chronicling.

One particular company sent their own staff and multiple call centres staffed by complete dog molesters a task of somehow getting a hold of me. The company in question claims to be an e-mail management specialist provider. How exactly all aggressors thought that e-mail or any other electronic means of communication was below them affords me confusion and amusement, similar to seeing someone attempt to use a bunch of constantly-rejected coins to get a Mars Bar out of a card reader-equiped vending machine whilst holding their MasterCard so they can order flowers for their girlfriend they’ve consistently disappointed and lied to whilst focusing on entirely the completely wrong fucking thing.

After over 40 (an honestly conservative estimate) attempts to make contact and a refusal of the callers to make appointments, provide callback numbers, send e-mails, give full details or give my colleagues the courtesy of even ending calls with something remotely resembling courtesy, I decided that this completely rapacious conduct must be fixed.

I wrote to Mute Performer Concert via their completely inept online contact form, with the following words (slightly paraphrased to protect those with sensibilities):

Dear sods,

Your organisation has made constant, unwelcome phone calls to my employer and has wasted hours of time whilst engaging in rude, unprofessional conduct and providing an impression of your company that would surely see anyone deciding to engage your services needing to be committed to a psychiatric ward.

I expect a written apology to be provided to my colleagues and a written confirmation provided that we will no longer be contacted by your poorly educated staff and agents.

Sincerely,

Ultimate Arsehole

This is a wonderful example of a zero sum game. Should I receive no response, I would have basis for pushing the issue further (and I do have the contact details for the Australian GM). Should I receive any response, I suspected that it would be inadequate and provide basis for further escalation.

One day I would really like to see a case of a company taking ownership for such conduct and just stating facts. In this case, I was completely disgusted. I received a phone call from some bloke named after a scientific term, who engaged in the following attempts at conversation:

  • An attempt at promoting the current work of his organisation, completely ignoring what had been written.
  • Stating that there must have been some sort of e-mail error when the details I sent through were provided to him, and then completely disregarding the concerns I expressed about the inability of the company to do what they were claiming to be able to do given this example.
  • Massive minimisation of the conduct of the staff and agents retained by the company, disregarding their rudeness and extremely poor conduct as “slightly aggressive”
  • Attempts to “rescue” the conversation to get a sale, attempting to redirect concerns toward “synergies”.
  • Hanging up on me

At this point, I followed up via e-mail to this particular trained idiot and, much to my amazement, received the following:

Dear Arsehole,

I sincerely apologise for the conduct of our organisation. Please be assured that we will cease contacting you and apologise deeply for the extremely poor conduct we have displayed in our interaction with your colleagues.

The fact that our staff and agents did not show the Reception and Administrative staff in your organisation is unacceptable and we will be sure to record this as the basis for you excluding us from future interactions with your organisation.

Regards,

Trained Idiot named after part of a Scientific Model

And with that, The Old Man Triumphs! Victory!