Susan and I almost got scammed by international crooks who contacted Susan with a popup that read: “Comcast Xfinity Customer: Our system scans have detected serious malware originating from your computer…You are subject to permanent account suspension and fines for network damage. Call (888) 367-0212.” At the bottom was a case number.
She freaked out and texted me with a photo of the popup message. I was in Pennsylvania at the time installing a shower in our love loft. “I don’t know what to do,” she wrote. “Can you call them?” Normally, being a computer geek who taught Internet security and virus protection for 20 years, I’d sense a red flag.
However, by coincidence – or was it? – I had received an email a few hours earlier from a friend in Chicago who wrote, “Steve. I think your computer might be hacked. I got a suspicious email that said it was you, but it didn’t look right, so I’m asking you now, did you send me an email?”
I said, “No. I’m too busy working. I have my laptop here, but I’m not emailing anyone.”
So, I called the number and spoke to “George.” He was friendly and offered to help clean my computer. He asked me to sit at my terminal. I explained that I could not. I was out of state. I said, “How about I have my wife shut off the computer and we wait until I fly back to Benicia?”
He said that wouldn’t work. The Zeus virus had already invaded my entire network and shutting off a computer wouldn’t stop the malicious use. I needed to deal with it now or lose my Comcast service. I explained that my wife isn’t techy. He said it was an easy fix. Like a fool, I gave him her phone number. Next thing I know I’m getting a text from Susan. She gave him remote access to her computer and he showed her what looked like a virus file. He said that we must purchase network security immediately for $399 for three years.
I was uncomfortable with that. I replied, “What? He said it was an easy fix, and I know several free anti-virus programs. We have Avast installed.” Susan replied telling me to stand by. George was setting up a three-way conference call. My phone rang from (855) 837-9965 with George and Sue on the line.
Still no red flag that it was a scam, just that he was mixing service with sales. I said, “Can we separate the two? First you clean the computer. Then we can discuss new anti-virus. He said that wouldn’t work. The fix required the purchase. If I didn’t agree, I needed to authorize the termination of service.
By coincidence, just the previous day, I had purchased a Smart TV for our loft and connected to our Comcast account via my downstairs tenant’s Wi-Fi. I wanted to see basketball and Game of Thrones. I thought, “Oh, great. I just hooked up my Comcast and he wants to shut it off.”
Perhaps the virus had come from my tenant’s network through my laptop to California PCs. I was hot, sweaty, dirty, in the middle of floor sanding, workers waiting, and I actually said, “OK, damn it. Just do it. Buy it. Fix it. And leave me alone.” Then I began to wonder, when did Comcast get into virus protection? I asked George that. He said, “I’m not with Comcast. I am a Microsoft Certified Technician.”
“Oh. You’re from Microsoft?” Since when can Microsoft terminate a Comcast account? While talking, I typed his phone number into Google search. It came back with links to Scam Wiki, 800Notes, and Badnumbers.info. I read the websites while on the 3-way call.
“Absolute scam artists, whose goal is to fleece you out of your money. DO NOT CALL THIS NUMBER OR YOU WILL BE VERY SORRY. They will hack your computer and then charge you for it.”
They described our mystery technician right down to his accent. So, while the three of us are talking, I’m texting Susan. “It’s a scam. Tell him nothing. Give him nothing.”
I confronted him. “George, how do I know you’re from Microsoft? I think you might be the crook.” He was deeply offended. I told him I Googled both his phone numbers and they alerted me to the scam. He acted shocked to learn that. I said, “We are going to shut off our computers and when I get home, I’ll scan and clean them myself.”
Of course, he advised against that. He said the virus was in our iPhones, iPads, laptops, PCs. We must send payment immediately. Susan said, “George, I want to speak to your supervisor.”
I laughed at this, and said, “Honey, what good will it do you to talk to the head crook?”
George said, “You wish to speak to my supervisor? I will connect you now.” Then he hung up the phone. Whew. We dodged a bullet.
I spoke to my PA sister about this. She said, “Oh, my, the same people called us last year and we sent them money. Then I learned it was a scam and stopped payment on the check.”
Susan called Comcast. They said our account was fine, and they were familiar with the scam.
Dear readers, some advice: Never call any corporation that contacts you first with the link or phone number. Stop and contact that company yourself by finding a legitimate phone number. Also, Google-search suspicious phone numbers. Sites like 800notes and Badnumbers.info database crooks. Two FREE anti-virus companies I like are Avast and Sophos. Sophos can detect root-kit viruses that fool anti-virus by installing ahead of them and then log all your keystrokes. Beware and prepare. Zeus is a real virus, but we don’t have it.
George’s downfall was that he talked too much tech, giving me too many improbable warnings and false claims. He revealed himself as a technological idiot.
Steve Gibbs is a retired Benicia High School teacher who has written a column for The Herald since 1985.
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