A tale of two shitties.
Yep, we’ve all been there, coming across a scam. Given that I constantly point out any clickbait or AI-generated reels my grandparents show me, I hoped that I was knowledgeable enough not to fall for them. But this time was different.
I’m not one to put myself out there. I have a job, but my parents keep urging me to find a second one, especially in the summer when my hours get reduced. So lo and behold I’m sitting at the circ desk at work and I get an email from my dad: “FW: Flexible Remote Positions for UofT Students, Staff, and Alumni—Apply Today!”
Checking the email, I noticed it had a UofT header and footer and was signed by Employment Services. It looked legit, and since my dad works for the university, I thought it must be okay. I let out an internalized sigh reading the email. I didn’t want to use even more energy to apply for /another/ job when I was already using all my brainpower to stay functional at school, work, and my extracurriculars. So I ignored it.
Three hours later, my mom replied to the email: “That’s $130 an hour to organize his calendar! Register now. And make it quick before others register first!” I was being hit from both sides!
It seemed like a sweet gig. Online, doing some sort of administrative work where I didn’t really have to talk to people or leave my house. I already avoid social interactions when I can and going downtown for work/school drains me. Yay! Plus, I would be making money. Double yay!
So there I was, in the middle of work, answering a Google Form with a mandatory next step: send a text message to a ‘John Haines’ with the cell number given.
“Okay,” I replied to both my parents over email. “I did it.”
When I’m emailing someone new, I tend to forget all sense of courtesy, so my mom formatted my messages to the ‘employer’ for me. /“Hi, I’d like to apply for your job.” “Introduce yourself.” “Oh yeah … does this look good?” “You can also say something about how you’re excited to learn more about how—” “Wait, wait. Okay, now say that slower.”/
After a brief back and forth which returned nothing but vague answers, there was radio silence. I was getting worried. I checked the sender of the initial email, Lucy Ren, and the guy who this job is apparently for—John Haines—and looked them up. It wasn’t lining up. I noticed the header for the email said “University Registrars Office” while the sign off referenced “University of Toronto Employment Services.” That was when the sinking feeling started. You know the one.
Now, I can’t exactly describe what it felt like at the moment … because I forgot. I know, I know. But unless I immortalize a feeling or event on paper the moment it happened, I’m unable to pull it out of my emotional filing cabinet and revisit what I was going through. I’m not laid back, but that sounds like something a laid back person would do.
No matter how much I fantasize, I don’t have the skills to figure out who sent the email from what was obviously a hacked account. I’m an English major, for crying out loud! The most I could do was report it as a scam, flag the Google Form as phishing, and block the phone number.
It had been a few days. Obviously my mom had been thinking about it because she casually let me know she thought the job opportunity was a scam, to which I thought, “yeah, no duh! I already came to that conclusion.” (I didn’t say it like that; I was nicer about it.) I did panic a bit when she asked if I had given away any information, but I said no. It’s not like I’d be in trouble; I didn’t really do anything wrong. And we’d all been duped! She wouldn’t be disappointed with me but would be disappointed with the situation.
Well, as a result of events spanning a few days this past February, someone out there in the world now has access to my full name, my home address, my phone number, my school email, and my place of work, including my position. Because of this, literally anyone could just show up at work and ask for or about me, get more information, and then … um, I don’t really know. I’m not mean enough to imagine what someone like that could do.
Welp, *slaps thighs* do what you will.