Phone scam
As a child my dad used to play on my trusting innocence of his wisdom with wilful abandon. I'd never quite "got" the art of gulling someone, but, y'know, beginners get lucky sometimes.

------history bit: you can skip this if you like---

My dad and I aren't colleagues but we work in related fields in roughly the same industry, so sometimes our paths cross professionally. Once we even shared office space.

Now he'd worked for this employer several times in the past as a contractor, with a few years interval between contracts. This company was renowned for its generosity, of course. They installed a phone system that requires you to put in a unique PIN before making your call, so they know exactly who makes which call. If the accountants don't think it's a business call, they simply deduct the cost from your wages if you're staff. If you're a contractor, they send you an itemised bill.

At the end of tenure 1, my dad paid his bill and left. On starting tenure 2, they presented him a new phone bill with calls that hadn't been processed before he left. Time lapsed, 3 years. At the end of tenure 2, he paid up, left, returned after 5 years, rinse, repeat. Leaving for the third time he stood over the accountant and demanded she process the calls, issue a final bill, which he paid before he left.

--------end of history----------

Dearest dad made the mistake of telling me about his woes, and his smug feeling at being able to arrive to this place, where with typical efficiency they'll have no desk or computer for him, but at least they won't be waiting with the bill this time.

A poll of the office turns up a contractor's bill for me to copy, add plausible dates and phone numbers, somewhat inflated costs and interest, late fee, handling fee... nothing major, just about £20.

Realising he'd quickly spot a phoney, I go for a chat with The Accountant. It's safe to say she's not lao-daizi's greatest fan, and was more than happy to add a note to say "call me", and play along.

Day of his arrival, letter wends its way through the infernal mail, lands on desk. Within half a second of opening it, the instantly-furious daizi snr is on the phone to She Who Controls The Payroll demanding heads. She plays her part beautifully by feeding him back his own and ended by suggesting, "your son's being here must've set something off. Talk to him." (I'm patched in on the call, handset muted, btw).

Charging into my patch of desk-desert, he just sees me with a shit-eating grin, saying "gotcha"!

/relurk
(daizi last tried to escape on, Wed 27 Aug 2008, 18:13, Reply)