Readers of a certain age will likely remember Roy Bonisteel as a beloved Canadian journalist and longtime host of CBC’s Man Alive.
In some circles (aka my journalism class at the University of Regina, where he taught as a visiting professor in the mid-90s) he was equally famous for a Lens Crafters advertisement he did in 1993.
Bonisteel, who passed away in 2013, loved paraphrasing his opening line from the ad, which was offering some deal that was ostensibly too good to be true.
“Maybe it’s my training as a journalist, but I’m skeptical…” he’d say, then give us a knowing smile.
His role, as he saw it, in developing us as journalists, was to ensure that we learned not to simply take things at face value, but ask probing questions. Mostly, he loved to chat over a beer at the end of a day and regale us with stories from his long and distinguished career. I’m sure we gleaned as much from those informal conversations as we did from our actual classes.
This was well before the era of ‘fake news’ and the rise of AI, and his admonitions had nothing to do with phishing scams, but I’m sure he’d agree that today, more than ever, it makes sense for anyone with a phone or internet connection to maintain a healthy sense of skepticism.
In the past year, for example, I’ve had more Facebook friend requests from overly handsome Gen-X strangers than I can count. I’m not deluded enough to believe these are anything more than the products of an internet cat-fishing farm on the other side of the planet, so I’ve kept a pretty heavy hand on the delete button.
But, apparently, it is possible to be too cautious, because my hyper-vigilance recently cost me enough money that it stung a little. And, no, the irony is not lost on me.
It all started several months ago when a letter arrived in my mailbox. It was filled with a lot of lingo and a vague reference to money that I was owed. I immediately dismissed it as a scam and tossed it.
Several weeks later, I got another one. Same letterhead, same content. Same BS, I thought to myself.
Out it went.
Cut to early December when I found myself opening a third envelope. This one was from a second agency that had been retained to track me down on behalf of the first, so that I could claim this undisclosed amount of cash.
At this point, it seemed more digging was in order. A bit of Googling and an email to my financial advisor confirmed that it was, in fact, legit. An insurance company had demutualized and, for reasons I don’t claim to understand, owes its former clients money.
Because this second agency had to expend resources to find me, I learned, they would be collecting 15 per cent of the amount I was owed. Let the record show that the sum of their investigation involved sending a letter to the address provided by the first company, this time made out to ‘occupant.’ Honestly, if I’d noticed that sooner, it, too, would have gone into the recycling bin.
It was I who rebuffed the first two attempts, so I really have no one to blame but myself. The thing is, I don’t know that I’d do anything differently if I were once again presented with the same information.
The modern world has taught us to be not just skeptical, but downright suspicious.
The people who are often favourite targets of fraud, of course, are seniors. Maybe it’s because they grew up in a different time. Deals were done in person and instant, electronic money transfers were still the stuff of science fiction.
Perhaps I’m being a bit dewy-eyed. Were people more trustworthy in the olden days, or was it just that the fraudsters had limited access to their marks?
If a snakeoil salesman wanted to make a buck, he had to load his goods into a caravan, hitch up his mule and head out to actively search for people to swindle. And, if the movies have taught us anything, he also needed to compose a catchy little song along the way.
Today, scam artists need only belly up to their keyboard or pick up a phone. So my first clue should have been that writing, addressing, stamping and mailing a letter is probably more effort than the average conman is willing to expend nowadays.
Perhaps I’m just too skeptical (maybe it’s my training as a journalist). More likely it’s simply a byproduct of living in today’s world. Oh, yes, we’ve got trouble.