I lose count of the spam emails I get every day, enticing me to click on suppurating links so that they can ooze viruses all over my hard-drive, or phishing for bank details so that they can take a crack at my account.
I was called this weekend by Argos credit department to double-check that I had actually applied for a credit card with them (I hadn’t) and really did want to buy a new telly (nope). That call came a few days after my husband had a letter from another credit company thanking him for opening his new account and wishing him happy shopping (that was fraud too). There is – be warned – currently a spate of fraudsters lifting contact details from entries at Companies House and using them to get unauthorised credit. (You can, by the way protect your file at CH with their PROOF service)
I hate answering the land line these days because the only people who ring it are cold-callers trying to interest me in buying a time-share or rook me out of compensation for mis-sold PPI. And I’m bloody sick of it. Sick and tired of the whole chiselling, weaselling, cheating, swindling, thieving, fiddling, diddling, shyster pack of them. Tired of being treated like a know-nothing no-mark whose money is up for grabs by any fraudster who fancies dipping a hand into my pockets. A pox on them all.
Like Peter Finch in Network, I’m mad as hell and I’m not going to take it any more. Except of course I am. Because seemingly the only way to stay completely untouched is to get off email all together, revert to writing letters and hope that clients will appreciate a slower and more contemplative service.