Hanging up on telemarketing scams

Scam. Con. Sting. Dodge. Those aren’t cars. They’re slang terms

for a dishonest scheme designed to separate you from your money or

your goods, or both. This week, it’s golf clubs.

In case you missed it, on Thursday last, the U.S. attorney’s

office expressed its extreme displeasure with a telemarketing

operation that lightened the wallets and purses of golfers across the

country by more than $5.8 million. The company, Professional Golf

Products, was based in Huntington Beach, ran telephone boiler rooms

out of Fountain Valley, and the people arrested included two from

Costa Mesa. Who says cities don’t cooperate?

So what was it this time and how did it work? A better question

might be: how could it have worked? I would have been surprised if

this scam netted six hundred dollars, let alone close to $6 million.

Professional Golf Products’ telephonic tricksters would apparently

tell their golf-loving victims they had been selected to “test” a set

of revolutionary, state-of-the-art clubs at no charge and with no

obligation to buy. All it took was a credit card number for a

security deposit on these incredibly wonderful fabulous clubs.

Surely, no one actually gave them their credit card number, did

they? Let me repeat: $6 million dollars in deposits from golfers

across the country. When the clubs finally arrived,

“state-of-the-art” is not what came to mind. “Cheap, cheesy things

that looked like ‘Little Timmy’s First Clubs’ from Toys-R-Us” is what

came to mind.

When the victims -- now feeling used, abused and confused -- tried

to return the clubs, they were told that they had in fact purchased

them, and that all this business about “testing” and “security

deposits” just didn’t ring a bell.

It’s not something I’m proud of, but I find myself increasingly

short on sympathy for those who get hooked by these silly schemes

year after year. Maybe the fact that I’m a golfer is why this goofy

scheme annoys me more than most. This dodge had more red flags waving

than the Kremlin on May Day.

Flag 1: People who make things do not randomly call people up and

ask them to “test” them. Flag 2: $6,000 is not a deposit on golf

clubs, $6,000 is a deposit on a house. Flag 3 -- the biggest, reddest

flag of all: You’re talking to a telemarketer for heaven’s sake! How

many times do we have to go over this? Never, never, never buy

anything of any kind at any time from anyone over the phone.

Your brain is smarter than you are. Trust your brain. If you need

something, it will know what to do. Whether it’s milk, land in

Arizona or golf clubs, your brain will tell you: “Go. Find. Buy.” You

don’t need strangers calling you at dinnertime to remind you that you

need land in Arizona, which of course you don’t.

Even more frustrating is that these scams have been around since

Moses was a tot and pop up in the news time and time again. This one

happens to be the deposit scam.

Another variation is the “pigeon drop.”

You’re in a parking lot. As you get into your car, a pretty,

well-dressed woman is standing nearby. She looks flustered. You’re

not sure if she’s talking to herself or to you. Then she says she

just found an envelope lying on the ground near her car. The envelope

is stuffed with thousands of dollars in cash, which she readily shows

you.

She just doesn’t know what to do. But by the time she’s done

spinning her web, she lays out a plan for handing the money over to a

third party and convinces you to put up a “good faith” deposit so the

two of you can split the cash if no one claims it.

Too crazy? Don’t bet on it. Thousands of people across the country

fall for it every year, ironically, in the most affluent areas. Why

do otherwise average, reasonable people fall for these things? I have

no idea.

But that’s enough about people who behave badly. It’s time to

recognize two people who have behaved very, very well for a long time

-- 50 years to be exact. Jim and Joan Scott have been pillars of

Costa Mesa since 1962, and it’s not easy being a pillar, as you know.

Among countless other community projects, Jim is the originator and

driving force behind the effort to build a 50-meter Olympic pool at

Costa Mesa High and a football stadium and CIF track at Estancia.

Normally, when it comes to weddings and anniversaries, I have to

be heavily sedated, blindfolded and wheeled inside on a refrigerator

dolly by two large orderlies. But just last Sunday, Jim and Joan --

pronounced “Jo Ann” by the way -- celebrated their 50th anniversary

with a party that was as funny and as much fun as anything I’ve seen

in a good long time.

As a former airman and an engineer with a master’s degree in

education, Jim had the event planned down to the quarter hour, as

noted in the 21-page program -- the highlight of which was “Jim and

Joan’s Battle Plan for Life.” The battle plan started with

“Education,” then chartered a course through

“Job...Car...Wife/Husband... Home... Furnish Home...Children.”

Joan, who also holds a master’s degree in education, was born in

Thyatria, Miss. Jim was born in Tulia, Texas. Sensing that not many

of us have been to either place, Jim started his remarks in front of

maps of Mississippi and Texas, pointing out the two towns with a

laser pointer.

Jim and Joan’s children and grandchildren filled out the

entertainment, topped off with Jim’s rendition of “The Nearness of

You” for Joan.

So there you have it. Two thumbs up for Jim and Joan Scott, and if

the phone rings, just say, “No thank you, I’m trying to quit,” then

hang up. Unless it’s your boss. I gotta go.

* PETER BUFFA is a former Costa Mesa mayor. His column runs

Sundays. He may be reached via e-mail at [email protected].