America Express asked me very strange security questions.
I think something is wrong.
“What's your name?”
“Adam Lu.
I want to close my American Express Gold Card,” I said hurriedly into the phone.
The train left in twenty minutes.
But I needed to get the account closed, before they charged me that damn annual fee.
“Okay, we just need to verify your identity,” the woman said.
“I’m going to ask you a few security questions, okay?”
“Okay.”
“What's your current address?”
“XX Hyacinth Court.”
“And what's your mother's maiden name?” “Greenberg.”
“Thank you for that, Mr. Lu.
We just need to ask you a few more questions to verify you.
First, which of the following addresses have you lived at?
[redacted] Maple Avenue, [redacted] Emory Circle, [redacted] 5th Street, or none of
the above?”
“None of the above.”
Oh, these security questions.
The weird multiple-choice ones, that you didn't actually ever pick.
I sighed into the phone and checked the clock.
8:12… sixteen minutes to go.
“Okay.
What security system do you use, or have you used in the past?
ADT, Ring Alarm, Adobe, or none of the above?”
“None of the above.”
A pause.
I heard what sounded like papers shuffling on the other end.
Then: “How tall are you?
Five-nine, six feet, or –” “Five seven.
Listen, how many questions are you going to ask me?
I just want to close my account.
I have to catch a train.”
“Okay.
One last question,” the woman said.
Her voice took on a smooth, soft quality.
As if she were smiling on the other end.
“Do you have a dog?”
“Uh, no.”
“Thank you!
We've verified your identity.”
Her voice grew suddenly chipper.
Excited.
“Okay.
So I'd like to close my account,” I said.
8:21.
Dammit, I'm going to miss it.
“That's not possible, Mr. Lu.”
“You can't cancel my card?
Why not?”
A pause.
“I can't cancel your account, Mr. Lu, because I don't work for American Express.”
“...What?”
“It's a common mistake, Mr. Lu.
American Express is 528-4800; you dialed 529-4800.”
“I don't…
I don't understand.”
“Do you know how many people misdial American Express's phone number?
Hundreds.
Per day.
And those people tend to be just what we're looking for -- wealthy, dumb.”
“I don't --” “They'll be there in a minute.
You can make it easy on yourself, and leave the house… or you can stay and fight.
But I don't think the odds are good, Mr. Lu.
They’re armed… and you don’t even have a dog.”
A pause.
Then her peppy voice continued: “Anything else I can help you with, Mr. Lu?”
“I --” “Thank you for calling!
We do hope you have a wonderful day.”
Click.
I pulled the phone away from my ear.
Just in time to see a shadow flit across the curtains.
“Hello?”
I called.
I took a step back, heart beginning to pound.
“Hello?” Thump, thump.
And then a man.
Just a glimpse of him, running by.
Wearing all black, complete with a cap over his head.
Dashing madly past my window.
I backed away.
Click, click.
The locks turned and clicked.
Thump, thump.
Heavy footsteps at the back door.
I turned on my heel and ran.
Threw open the front door, ran as fast as I could through the front yard.
Until the cold stung my lungs and my legs were weak.
Then I pulled out my phone and called the police.
*** They came too late.
The house was ransacked.
I was missing my TV, almost a thousand dollars in cash, and my iPad.
I reported it all to the officers, and told them about the phone number.
But when we called it, we only heard: Beep, beep, beep!
The number you have dialed is no longer in service.
They left.
Then I sat in silence, my mind reeling.
Then I got on my computer -- an old, half-broken thing, no wonder it wasn't stolen -- and wrote
this post.
To warn you.
There are hundreds of different ways you could misdial 528-4800.
Whoever these people are jump from number to number, pretending to be American Express.
They ask “security questions” to get information out of you.
To rob you blind… or worse.
Don't fall for it.
Next time you pick up the phone…
Don’t answer any strange security questions.