That might be one reason why, after a person who instantly struck me as a Facebook scammer dangled her bait by inquiring about my book, I didn't do the smart thing and immediately block her. Instead I replied sincerely.
Mind you, I hadn't gone completely mad — I never thought this was anything other than some guy in a windowless basement boiler room pinging 50 prospective marks at a time, looking for the one who'd doesn't pause and ask himself why a cute 20-something would suddenly be interested in a worn out old boot like himself. But she did start off her pitch in an unusual fashion. And I did let the line play out for a couple days — I guess I felt I was the angler as much as the prey. I was bored, curious how she'd spring the trap. Our chat began like this: Honestly, I didn't think much about it, at first. People do ask about how to get the book, as if they've never bought a book before. I looked at her Facebook page. It had some Chicago references on it. We do live in a diverse city. Nineteen of my friends — all men — had already friended her. She could in theory be a legitimate young person unfamiliar with the book buying process. The daughter of some businessman perhaps. It's possible.
I was annoyed to find her back, but also sitting in a coffee shop, killing time. What was the harm?
The sun doesn't set over Lake Michigan. It rises. Okay, ignore her. But she kept circling back.
The idea to create a professional account ... that was also different. A very specific suggestion, not one that would benefit her. Not the standard claim of a suitcase of cash found in Afghanistan that needs a trustworthy person to help with its disposal. It was the day before my book signing at Atlas, and I figured, okay, if she wants the book, and is real, she can stop by and purchase one.
I had looked at our mutual friends. All white men in their 50s or 60s. That screams scam. Alleged women romance and flatter older men and ... I'm not sure what. Hit them up for money for plane tickets for their joyful meeting. Or if she is supposedly in Winnetka, for bail or ... I'm not sure what. One of her friends was Vincent P. Falk, the genius programmer/fashion plate. That also told me she wasn't real. I just couldn't picture Vincent Falk chatting up Janice Taylor at a North Shore soiree.
It does? We'd lapsed into almost normal, nice-to-meet-ya conversation.
Thus ended our first evening's relationship. She was there, waiting, the next morning. I almost replied to her opening salvo with a testy, "Don't toss platitudes at me." But that seemed unkind, even to someone whose end game was ripping me off. I settled on acerbity.
I was annoyed to find her back, but also sitting in a coffee shop, killing time. What was the harm?
"Chicago is one of the bustling cities in the United States" sounds like a direct translation from Korean Wikipedia. And that page of drawings was snagged from the Instagram feed of an actual young California fashion designer, Amiko Simonetti. You can see her signature on the page that Janice posted. That was enough for me to unfriend her — and figured it was time to move this charade along. Why not just block her? I guess I wanted to see her try to spring her trap.
I told myself there was an element of altruism to extending the conversation. I figured, while she's after me, she can't also be sweet-talking someone else who might actually fall into the trap. Plus people are not exactly lining up to chat with me. There is definitely something pleasant in just talking to someone. Those AI chatbots being developed now are going to make a fortune someday.
I found myself lulled by another weakness: my tendency to want to share my own writing with others.
Yes, Kumamon isn't technically anime, but yuru kyara, a "loose character." Close enough. Are you getting bored yet? I was. But somehow just blocking her seemed ... rude. No doubt a guy in some godforsaken place. But what if she was actually what she appeared, some 23-year-old daughter of a Korean businessman based in Wilmette, stealing other people's fashion designs, trying to seem impressive? Why be mean to that person? She hadn't done anything yet, nothing but chat.
The dumplings looked too good to be true. A Google Image search didn't find a source; no stock shot I could find. But I worried this could go on forever, and wanted to press her and see what happened.
And so our conversation ended. I thought. I planned to post this a week ago Wednesday. Then the night before, she phoned me, just as I was sitting down to dinner. I have no idea how she got the number. We exchanged a few words — she didn't seem to want anything in particular other than to call me. As soon as I got off the line, I blocked her, which is what I should have done at the start.
Her calling, stepping out of the realm of Facebook and into the telephone, creeped me out enough to hold this. I didn't want to do anything to encourage her presence in my world. But a week has passed, and I figure the coast is clear. Besides, I need something for today. What's the worst that could happen?