Whilst continuing to investigate the intriguing world of sugar scams and the financial domination subculture, I realised that I had yet to post an amusing roundup of the excuses I've gotten from alleged daddies to explain why they won't give money through Paypal and why they absolutely, definitely need real bank login information.
Now, I'm the kind of bold, brassy gal who's willing to try anything for science, truth, and beauty. Accordingly, my next articles will offer more information about the financial domination community (including its struggles, internal tension, and advice about how to become a financial dominatrix) and some up-close-and-personal encounters with sugar scammers. I'm even going to try out some of the scams with a burner bank account and see what happens - if anything.
I know, I know - I'm a glutton for punishment and very foolhardy, but someone has to do the dirty work. That being said, I'm considering turning this research into a podcast and/or a short nonfiction book, with the intent of offering useful information to the internet at large and helping vulnerable folks think twice about these purportedly golden offers. After all, if evading scammers was as simple as "being smart," scams wouldn't work. I'm planning to do more research to understand why it's so hard to believe others are lying, and to distrust others in general.
If you're interested in this project, reach out to me in the comments section or on my social media (links below). I want to hear from you! If you don't have anything to say other than, "This is really cool and I want to support you," please still reach out, because that feedback means a lot. Also consider sending me a donation at my Ko-fi or Paypal links and/or sharing the article. After all, I'm doing this to help protect people on the internet - and to satisfy everyone's mutual morbid curiosity about scammers.
Okay, on to the main feature - a collection of screenshots from my conversations with various miscreants. I will be including their Twitter handles. I suppose that's a breach of trust - but these are scammers, so the usual rules about ethics and personal consideration have already been violated. I wouldn't share private conversations without permission under normal circumstances...but these aren't normal circumstances. Anyway, on with the show!
(Like a complete genius, I didn't bother screenshotting the questions before Twitter deleted them. Sorry, folks.)
And finally, if anyone feels like actually gracing my account with a tip after reading this series, here is my real Paypal.me and my Ko-fi.
Now, I'm the kind of bold, brassy gal who's willing to try anything for science, truth, and beauty. Accordingly, my next articles will offer more information about the financial domination community (including its struggles, internal tension, and advice about how to become a financial dominatrix) and some up-close-and-personal encounters with sugar scammers. I'm even going to try out some of the scams with a burner bank account and see what happens - if anything.
I know, I know - I'm a glutton for punishment and very foolhardy, but someone has to do the dirty work. That being said, I'm considering turning this research into a podcast and/or a short nonfiction book, with the intent of offering useful information to the internet at large and helping vulnerable folks think twice about these purportedly golden offers. After all, if evading scammers was as simple as "being smart," scams wouldn't work. I'm planning to do more research to understand why it's so hard to believe others are lying, and to distrust others in general.
If you're interested in this project, reach out to me in the comments section or on my social media (links below). I want to hear from you! If you don't have anything to say other than, "This is really cool and I want to support you," please still reach out, because that feedback means a lot. Also consider sending me a donation at my Ko-fi or Paypal links and/or sharing the article. After all, I'm doing this to help protect people on the internet - and to satisfy everyone's mutual morbid curiosity about scammers.
Okay, on to the main feature - a collection of screenshots from my conversations with various miscreants. I will be including their Twitter handles. I suppose that's a breach of trust - but these are scammers, so the usual rules about ethics and personal consideration have already been violated. I wouldn't share private conversations without permission under normal circumstances...but these aren't normal circumstances. Anyway, on with the show!
"I got scammed of 17 million, that why my bank disabled me from using them." Yes. This is definitely a thing that has happened in the world.
I'm not gonna lie - after a while, I got pretty fed up with playing dumb with these scammers, and decided to just start calling them on their crap to see what happens. The answer? They just block you and look for the next mark.
As you can see, plenty of the scammers get impatient about their acts, and try to get their mark to hand over financial information as soon as possible. However, some common traits became apparent from scammers.
Signs of a scammer include:
- "Daddy", "dad", or "sugar" somewhere in the username
- Inconsistent stories (Where are you from? answer vs Twitter location)
- Different names and Twitter handles (i.e. "Mary Johnson 404" vs "KatyPetty20" for the actual username)
- Poor English and spelling (with interestingly uniform errors, at that - based on my experience with second or non-primary English speakers, I'm guessing a lot of them hail from India or other Desi areas, but the inclusion of prepositions and pluralisation errors suggest African languages? I plan to look into this further)
- Vague details from their personal life
- Excessive yet relatively non-specific flattery and compliments
Not everyone, though, is quite as overt or downright rude as the two "daddies" I chatted with above.
One scammer pretended to be a somewhat doddering woman of forty (which, honestly, was suspicious from the jump, because most of the forty-something women I've met are sharp, sexy, well-spoken, and have natural leadership skills) who was just looking for someone to spoil. I played along with her ruse. I almost believed it...but in the last couple of days, she demanded my bank login info and the purchase of a Sephora gift card. I knew the gig was up, so I decided to ask some questions.
(Like a complete genius, I didn't bother screenshotting the questions before Twitter deleted them. Sorry, folks.)
"Nope, you're clearly a scammer. The name inconsistencies and the location errors were the big tip off, by the way. So, is there like a roomful of scammers somewhere?" I asked. "Do you have a company somewhere? I've noticed a lot of commonalities."
Of course, that resulted in no answer whatsoever, but I'm not convinced that these scammers - who all use very similar, uniform tactics - represent a single person apiece. To be honest, I think there's probably some kind of very large company with a few branches or clusters, and I think they're getting some kind of training on how to do this. It's not impossible - after all, before I became an editor, I briefly worked in online banking at a call centre for Scotiabank. Teaching us scripts and uniform ways of responding to and creating questions was also part of my retail career.
(It sucked, mostly because of the incredibly stringent company rules during the training period, and more so, because my boss at the time was a Vogon bully who decided I was the worst, for no reason I can discern. Moving on...)
Point is, there's clearly a method to these scams, and a uniformity that suggests planning and forethought. Sure, they probably use some sort of clickfarm (a nightmarish array of smartphones set up to follow an algorithm that creates fake accounts) to make the Twitter accounts, but there's a human element in the responses.
One of the scammers did a better job than usual of passing herself off as an older, internet-ignorant woman; she claimed to be only forty, but her writing style suggested she was much older. Nervous and interrogating my commitment to her, but complimenting my replies warmly, I started to think she might be the real deal. Mind you, she also claimed that "[her] last baby died of typhoid, and [she] was very annoyed, as [she] had just paid for a new car for her..." and that she'd been scammed out of 30K on Paypal. (Apologies for the lack of a screenshot again.)
It was just weird enough to be plausible. But when it came time to talk about my "allowance", and talk about money, she finally asked me to buy a Sephora gift card. Recognizing the the pattern once again, I regretfully blocked and reported her account, knowing that once again, the same old pattern was in play.
It was just weird enough to be plausible. But when it came time to talk about my "allowance", and talk about money, she finally asked me to buy a Sephora gift card. Recognizing the the pattern once again, I regretfully blocked and reported her account, knowing that once again, the same old pattern was in play.
And finally, if anyone feels like actually gracing my account with a tip after reading this series, here is my real Paypal.me and my Ko-fi.
***
Michelle Browne is a sci fi/fantasy writer and editor. She lives in Lethbridge, AB with her partner-in-crime and Max the cat. Her days revolve around freelance editing, knitting, jewelry, and learning too much. She is currently working on other people's manuscripts, the next books in her series, and drinking as much tea as humanly possible.
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