Reading a Not Always Right story about a scam arrest warrant reminded me of the one I got.

Caller: “I have a warrant for your arrest that will be served to you tomorrow unless you make restitution today as we speak.”

Me: “I knew this was coming. But what is this restitution you are saying?”

Caller: “I can cancel the service of the warrant and your subsequent arrest tomorrow if you will pay, while we are on the phone, $450.”

Me: “How am I supposed to pay you cash over the phone? That’s impossible.”

Caller: “That’s not how it works. Are you on a cell phone?”

Me: “Yes.”

Caller: “Stay on the line, go to [Store], and buy $450 worth of gift cards, and I will tell you the next step.”

Me: “Ya know… Now that I think about this, I would get free room and meals, cable TV, and Internet. So. Why don’t you serve me and arrest me? I will gladly go to jail.”

Caller: “A**hole.” *Click*

A few years ago, we had to retain an old laptop due to an ongoing court case. Neither side could agree on who should have custody of this potential evidence.

Every so often, the lawyers for one side or the other would ask for time-stamped photographic proof that we still had the laptop. As a result, we have a semi-time-lapse record of the way that battery expanded. The base of the laptop had the profile of a rugby ball by the end. There is no way they could have retrieved anything from it, had they needed it, by that point.

The court case was resolved before the battery actually exploded or burst into flames. By then, we had it in a fireproof box, in a corner of the garage, as far away from, ooh, everything else as we could physically get it. The e-waste site was… impressed… when we took it in for disposal.

In the late 1980s, the XO [Executive Officer] on my dad’s ship at the time told the sailors going out on the town that Spanish cops carried automatic weapons — but don’t worry; they use rubber bullets.

After some drinking, one of the sailors decided it would be fun to go down the street smashing the mirrors off of cars. A pair of cops caught him in the act and yelled for him to stop. He didn’t stop but instead ran.

It turned out the XO was wrong about one thing: they were not using rubber bullets. The captain, on being informed that one of his sailors was recovering from gunshot wounds before being processed into jail, decided it was best to leave the sailor to deal with all legal consequences there and that someone else back in Virginia could handle the rest.

This is the same XO who got relieved of duty, on the very same cruise, because he also kept getting arrested in foreign ports.

I live in France, and I’m a native French speaker, but I can speak English quite fluently. I also took German when I was in high school and college, and I remember some of it.

I’m hanging out at my home, and I get a phone call.

Me: “Allo?”

Scammer: “Hello! Do you speak English?”

He speaks with a strong accent I cannot identify, and he sounds awkward, like English is definitely not his mother language.

Me: “Yes?”

Scammer: “This is Microsoft. There are three dangerous viruses on your computer, and I’m here to help you get rid of them.”

This is an obvious scam attempt. I could just hang up, but I decide to play with him instead.

Me: “I’m sorry, I don’t speak English. I really, really don’t speak a single word in English, so I guess I cannot help you.”

Scammer: “You’re telling me that you don’t speak English, in English.”

Me: “Yes!”

Scammer: “There’s a problem with your computer. Whenever you use Google, it attracts dangerous programs, and you need to get rid of them.”

Me: “But I don’t have a computer!”

Scammer: “Are you Mrs. [Not My Name]?”

Me: “No, and I don’t speak English at all!”

He hangs up. I shrug it off and start going about my business again. Then, the phone rings again and it’s him. I decide to answer in German until he hangs up.

Me: “Hello!”

Scammer: “Hello. I need your phone number to help you get rid of this virus.”

Me: “I don’t understand.”

Scammer: “What are you saying?”

Me: “I don’t understand. I only speak German.”

Scammer: “I don’t understand. Speak English.”

This goes on, and then I hang up. One minute later, guess who phones again? This time, I answer in French.

Scammer: “This is Microsoft. Are you Mrs. [Not My Name]?”

Me: “No, I’m not Mrs. [Not My Name]. Would you like me to sing you a song?”

Scammer: “I don’t understand what you’re saying. There’s a problem with your computer.”

I sing something and go about my business again. He has hung up when I come back. I think I’ve gotten rid of him, but then he phones again. This time, I answer in English.

Scammer: “You have a virus on your computer. Please, give me your phone number.”

Me: “Why would I do that? I’m a married person, and I will never, ever cheat on my wife!”

Scammer: “Your wife or your husband?”

Me: “My wife! She’s beautiful!”

This is a lie as I’m a happily single lady. However, this seems to trigger the scammer.

Scammer: “This is wrong! Really wrong! You should be ashamed of yourself!”

He hung up and never called again. This scammer was stoic no matter how silly I acted, but the single idea of interacting with an LGBT person was enough to make him run away. This is a very sad way to win the war against telemarketers.

CONTENT WARNING: Repeated Abuse By Sibling

My older sister was physically abusive toward me. At the slightest — accidental — provocation, she would attack me.

My parents generally laughed it off because I was a boy and she was a girl, and I should suck it up; she couldn’t hurt me that badly. 

One time, she nearly drowned me by holding my head underwater in the bathtub, but it didn’t leave any marks, so my parents didn’t care.

I guess I was the one with all of the empathy in the family; I never hit back since I was afraid I might actually hurt her.

One time, I turned the light on in our bedroom while she was asleep so that I could put my stuff away and go to bed. She leaped out of bed, grabbed something heavy, and smacked me with it. She broke my leg.

The nurses and doctors at the hospital actually listened to my story about how my sister abused me, and all the times she had abused me before.

The doctors got CPS involved. They had my parents move me out of the room with my sister into my own room, and they insisted that any disputes between me and my sister would have to be mediated by a third party, or else my parents would lose custody of both of us.

This helped a lot, and by high school, I had almost forgotten how abusive my sister had been, until the day before prom. She was in college by then, drinking and partying, and often spent the night in my parent’s house rather than the dorm because they cooked and did laundry for her.

That night, she was very drunk, our parents were already abed, and her eyes lighted upon me when she got home. “I always hated you, you little f***er,” she said. And then she attacked me.

I managed to get away and lock myself in my room, but I was covered with bruises, bite marks, and scratches. I was a mess. I thought about stealing Mom’s makeup to cover up the bruises like I had done in the past to dodge awkward questions in grade school, but then, I decided, “F*** it.”

I went to prom covered in open, obvious, injuries. I got my prom pictures taken looking like the victim of domestic assault — which I was. One of my friends encouraged me to let the police know what my sister had done, and I did.

She was arrested, and as she was old enough to be legally an adult, she was tried as one. She went to prison and lost her scholarship.

My parents blamed me for it, so after I left for college myself, I never came back. I don’t know how they’re doing now. And I don’t care.