No one likes being duped, much less tells about it. Still, if my recent experience of falling for an online scam would help you pay better attention than I did, dear reader, here goes. (And if it makes you feel smug that YOU’D never fall for this, that’s okay too.)

Looking back, I can identify three reasons why I swallowed the bait: (1) I was tired. It had been a long, busy day and I still had one event (a voters’ forum) on my agenda. (2) I was in a hurry. The forum was about to begin. (3) The “pitch” appealed to my ego. That last one really hurts because I pride myself (!) on my skepticism and ability to spot scams.

While quickly checking email, I found this brief message from a friend: “Hi. Let me know if you got this. Thanks.” We serve on a committee together and often exchange emails about committee business. I answered, “Yes, I received it. Are you having trouble getting emails to me?”

Almost immediately came the response, which I quote exactly: “Glad to hear back from you. I’ve been trying to purchase Amazon or Doordash E gift card by email, but I can’t do this now because all my effort purchasing it online proved abortive. I intend to buy it for a friend’s daughter who’s having her birthday today unfortunately she is down with cancer of the liver. Can you get it from Amazon or DoorDash online?  I’ll reimburse you back as soon as possible. Please let me know if you can handle this so I can tell you the amount and how to get to her.”

If your eyebrows are hovering somewhere near your hairline, mine should’ve been too. My friend, who is well-educated and articulate, would never have written a redundancy like “reimburse back.” The bit about “cancer of the liver” was way over the top, designed to get my sympathy. In my defense I refer you to numbers (1) and (2) above. The real culprit, however, was No. 3, ego. My friend had many others she could’ve appealed to (turned out they also got the email and were too smart to bite). I was touched that she chose me, trusted my technology abilities, etc.

On later, closer examination I saw that “her” email address had changed and the time suggested the messages came from overseas. Oblivious, I wrote:

“I might be able to do Amazon. I don’t use Doordash. What do you want to send?”

The scammers, having landed their catch, responded instantly: “Thank you so much. I really appreciate your kindness. Here are the details: Amount: $300. Email: Rogersarah25@gmail.com.  Message: Happy birthday Love from [my friend’s name].”

Pretty generous, I thought, but she could afford it. I ordered the gift card, ignoring all the red flags both Amazon and my credit card company raised. Amazon wanted re-confirmation of my credit card number. My bank texted asking if this order REALLY came from me. I cleared the hurdles, got a confirmation from Amazon that the gift card order was “pending,” and rushed off to the forum, which my friend also attended.

Afterward, I found her in the crowd and said, “Amazon said the gift card order is pending, but it should go through.” She gave me a deer-in-the-headlights look and said, “My phone was hacked this afternoon. I’ve been answering all kinds of calls from people asking what’s going on.”

I did the only thing I know to do when I’ve been played for a fool. I laughed. I was thinking, “Three hundred bucks! It won’t ruin me, but it’s a painful lesson.”

The next day, the scammers persisted with a brief, unpunctuated query, “Any luck with the gift card yet”

Yes, as a matter of fact. I’d had quite a bit of luck. First I called the 24/7 number on my credit card. After a nonproductive conversation with AI, I was transferred to “Gavin” of the Fraud Protection Team. The card hadn’t been billed yet, and Gavin read me a lecture about avoiding scams while he cancelled my card. A new one would arrive in four to six days. I was emailed a new account number so I could continue charging online. Banks are so friendly that way.

I called Amazon and cancelled the order. I also called my friend to assure her all was well. I ended the day (1) still tired, (2) done with rushing, (3) my ego appropriately deflated, and (4) not three hundred dollars poorer but a few cents wiser.