Cool Scam -- "Did You Ever Sneak In Without Paying?"

Here's a scam I know of that's making big money. Just last week I -- I mean an anonymous friend -- took in over $1,000, and it doesn't show any signs of stopping. The only reason I'm saying anything is because I feel like bragging to someone ... about my anonymous friend.

The key to it are all the little Facebook groups about podunk places around the country. It doesn't work with New York City or other big places, just county seats, little burgs where people -- usually guys -- don't mind bragging about what they got away with in the past. You've probably seen these groups, with names like "You Know You're From Pocatello When..." The locals join, including the alumni of the schools, etc., who are now between 25 and 80 and living somewhere else.

I start like this -- meaning of course my anonymous friend -- by researching a particular place and event. I'll give an example of car racing in Harlan, Iowa, just a place the dart hit on the map. (See the ad.) This tells me that in 1971 they had a place called the Shelby County Speedway with races that cost $2.00 to get into. Then I -- my anonymous friend, we'll call him Walt -- join the "You Know You're From Harlan When" group.

The first thing 'Walt" does, also based on research, is ask if anyone remembers certain teen hangouts in the early '70s, like, you know, the slot car place or whatever. It establishes him as a one-time local. Then, speaking of racing, "Boy, I really remember some wild times at the races over at the Speedway... Crap, it only cost 2 bucks, but that was big money for me back then. So me and a bunch of guys would just sneak in ... so sweet!" Next thing you know, there's other guys confessing to all kinds of things: "I snuck in, too! Saved me 20 bucks on the whole season!"

Then behind the scenes, "Walt," using a different name, like "Stan," has a bunch of letterheads from a fake law office, always with the town in question as the locale. It seems this law office has been retained to collect on past debts, cold case stuff going way back, and it's come to their attention that you posted online several confessions of wrongdoings against their clients. "In the aforementioned instance," the letter says, "our client, the Speedway, hereafter to be known as the party you ripped off, claims damages in the amount of $20, augmented with interest and adjusted for inflation since 1971." "Walt" pulls a number out of the air, in this case $200.

Sweet deal, huh? Please don't tell anyone. I don't want "Walt" to get in trouble.

And it's not just the races, of course. But school plays, ice cream at the Tastee Freez, pilfered candy at Woolworth's, and even breach of contract suits from jilted elementary school hopefuls, like that little girl you knew in 4th grade and promised to marry. Didn't think anyone remembered, did you? Well, they didn't, until you confessed it on Facebook! You didn't know you broke her little heart, which now can only be mended to the tune of $4,000 a month for life!

Remember, this is just between you and me and "Walt." For entertainment purposes and every other disclaimer we can throw in, wink wink.

The Disabled Patriotic Veterans

Now that the local newspaper has exposed The Disabled Patriotic Veterans of Distinguished Foreign Service to America (DFVDFSA) as a scam, and Walmart forbade them ever to set up their table of suckers sold for their benefit, we can only look back and celebrate their presence for those brief months.

They're gone now but not forgotten. I can still see them in my mind's eye: The various articles of slouchy clothes, the ratty camouflage, faded Doors T-shirts, patriotic caps burdened by trinkets and buttons everywhere, and of course the handlebar moustaches. They'd show up, and if you were lucky enough to get there early, you'd see the heartrending ceremony of unpacking the six inch flag and its wooden base, and proudly saluting as they erected it on the table. Then it was on to the cash drawer and the all-necessary priming of the tip jar with about 20 bucks.

The Disabled Patriotic Veterans of Distinguished Foreign Service to America.  Every word is important. They're disabled, or presumably serve others somewhere who are. They're patriotic, as we've seen them show their little flag all due deference. They're veterans who've performed service in the foreign fields, which has been distinguished. These weren't just desk jobs, supply guys, logistical staff, officers, or base personnel. This was distinguished service, meaning it was extraordinary. And America, that's a word that packs a punch!

All that time, there in the stifling heat of a Walmart entrance, they kept a brave vigil, testifying to their great sacrifice and sacrificing still, that with each sucker sold perhaps they could make a few cents over cost, to support themselves, not to mention those, their brethren, somewhere, the ones who are actually disabled and in dire need.

And you have to hand it to them, they had a great sales pitch to go along with their physical presentation. "No one gave us a parade, at least buy a sucker." And ,"We gave our lives for your freedom, buy a sucker already." But even with that there were plenty of people who acted like they didn't see them and would press into Walmart without stopping. Which is both bad and good. Bad, because those people are miserable, sons-of-bitchin' ingrates. But good, because it feeds into the DFVDFSA's complex that nobody appreciates them, giving them the resolve to double down on the guilt-inducing slogans.

I asked this one guy -- who asked me if I'd ever served, to which I had to go into my normal spiel about being eligible yet drawing high lottery numbers in the draft -- what the average gift for a sucker is. He said it was a measly buck. A dollar?! Crap, the suckers are about a dime to buy, so that's not much of a profit when you factor in the table, the flag, the stickers, and the sheer amount of time it takes to set up out there -- not to mention the heat! -- and time is money.

But what about the upper stratosphere of donations? We've all heard of the stranger who shows up at the Salvation Army bucket every year and puts in a 1609 gold doubloon worth a million dollars. No, he hasn't been here, but of course we'd love to have him stop by. The upper stratosphere, as it turns out, isn't very high. A few people have put in $20, and a few of those make the added gesture of not even taking the sucker!

Then, what is the most memorable thing that's happened to you out here? I asked. He thought it over and was visibly moved. His voice starting to break -- which he brought back quickly to normal -- he told me about an old guy who lives at a nursing home. OK? This stuff really happens. The nursing home (assisted living facility, I should say) brings them out in vans.

One time the old guy saw the sucker stand and decided next time he'd do something special. So he put on his World War II uniform and came out. He stood about 20 feet away. The DPVDFSA rep stood near the table. The older gentleman walked straight toward him. People parted. The old man, his hand feeble beyond belief, and shaking like a leaf as a consequence, lifted his hand and saluted. The other returned the gesture. That was a beautiful moment. It was a meeting of generations, from one who probably did get a parade to one who didn't. As if to say, "You're all right, and your suckers ain't half bad either, and thank you for your service." He put in $10, took the sucker, and signed the rep's hat. I saw the faded signature, clearly the scrawl of an old-timer, someone very old.

Other than that, I have a clear memory of the naked girl tattoo on the guy's arm.

Now, though, it's all gone. The DPVDFSA appears to be no more, exposed by an ungrateful newspaper as a scam. And our opportunity to give them what they deserve as disabled patriotic veterans has now sadly passed.

Rugs Is No Life For A Woman

As the new guy in charge of the Organization's "massage parlors," "modeling agencies," and "escort services" (prostitution), one of my ongoing interests will be procuring new girls. Just stepping in, I'm thankful to learn of one time-tested method we're using all the time.

Coincidentally, it ties in with the fly-by-night carpet store business I was just recently part of. So I have experience in that too! They've found that one very effective way to lure, entice, or convince a woman into prostitution is to appeal to her domestic side. Then we make a quick shift in that presentation that calls into question the emptiness and vanity of that life. Here's the way it goes, as I understand it:

For the ruse, we have a storefront, which appears to be an actual store, where is set up all kinds of household wares. It's quite a display, everything the lady of the house might want, a real paradise to behold. There's couches, TV trays, lamps, curtains, and so forth. Somehow we get the candidate into the store, and maybe she's given some spending money -- I'm not sure how that works.

Then -- and here's where the switch comes in -- there's the greatest inducement toward domesticity followed by a quick shift away from it. She's looking at flooring, linoleum, hardwood, and more importantly, carpeting and rugs. Let's just jump to the carpet and rugs. She's immediately seduced by the gorgeous patterns -- symmetrical lines, ornate blossoms of flowers, etc. -- and it is indeed amazing the many patterns carpet makers have come up with. Just like they were on LSD... So she's driven toward domesticity.

Now, in this whole ruse, think of the vast experience the underworld has in the carpet trade. It's one of our biggest moneymakers, selling sub-par, shoddy carpet in fly-by-night stores. Carpet is that one consumer product that might be good and it might be bad. Just looking at it doesn't tell you much. It's not like a tire that you can kick and immediately know if it will keep your family safe. The only way to judge carpet is to run your hand across it and see if the tufts come off with the touch. And that's not as easy as it sounds. A good carpet dealer, that is, a good underworld carpet dealer, distracts the buyer with lifetime warranties and the benefits of various cleaning products, so much so that they never actually touch the carpet. 

Be that as it may, then, let's say we've got the woman, now a domestic princess, in our fake store. There's a few hardened, deceitful prostitutes walking around in normal clothing, pretend shopping, to lure her into a sense of security. Then we start putting the psychological screws to her. It turns out this or that item doesn't bring satisfaction. It costs money, big money to keep up the house. There's always something else you need, something else that costs big money. Finally, you throw up your hands and say, What's the use?

We've passed through the kitchen area, the appliance area, the bathroom area, etc., and we come to the carpet and rug department. Oh, this is sly! We show the incredible variety of rugs and carpets, how perfect they are. All that just before we bring out a piece of shoddy carpet. "Just run your hand over this masterpiece!" And as she does so, it comes apart in her hand! The "salesman" goes ballistic. "This is my job, to offer only the finest carpet, and someone has fallen down on the job!" The woman is disappointed, and the salesman's disappointment increases both her disappointment and anxiety exponentially.

He's sobbing, she consoles him, they embrace, they make mad love on a roll of fraying, falling apart, flaking away carpet. She suddenly sees the ultimate vanity of trying to be a domestic goddess, that the whole thing is a sham you can never trust. But the sex act, which she just experienced, that's something that endures! He leads her on. This perfection, this beautiful joining together of man and woman -- with all his fetishes -- can be hers. He knows a guy, a friend of a friend, who can set her up, etc., to experience it ... forever!

The other women shoppers -- the disguised prostitutes in on the ruse -- come over and appear to be falling in line with her decision. "You have shown us the way!" is their attitude. They all fall into a giant orgy, and next thing you know, she's set up with a room at the hotel, and an endless parade of visitors. She's well away from the disappointing world of housekeeping, the men of town are out of the house and away from their nagging wives, and we, the Organization, have a brand new source of income.

Everyone wins!

My Criminal Carpet Store Is Closing

I see now why criminal fly-by-night carpet stores never last! Thankfully, we're selling out today and moving on. And not a moment too soon!

I've had so many irate customers in the store today, I've had to be in disguise to save myself. What I did, and I hate to stereotype the poor rubes, but it's not like they're going to notice, is dress in bib overalls to fit in, pull a big floppy red felt hat with ear warmers over my head, and walk around with a weed in my mouth. When I'm near someone complaining, I'm just as irate as them, calling for the manager's head. Then when I'm with a fresh new customer, I drop the weed and hick accent and make a quick sale.

Fortunately, the organization, being familiar with the pattern of this particular shady branch of merchandising, sent me a few helpers to carry in returned carpet and carry out new carpet, in most cases being the exact same stuff! There's been a line of people at the refund counter all day, but they've been put off by claims of the cashiers going on break, computers being down, and the bank screwing up our cash flow. After a while, we'll tell them to come back tomorrow, for their convenience, with the promise of refunds being ready to go. But of course there will be no refunds, and by then the store will be vacant.

As for all the new carpet being sold, since we're so swamped, I told the helpers to not even bother putting "Three Week Protector" on it, which is meant to gum up the tufts at the root so it won't fall off for a while. At this point, what do we care? If it falls off in the customers' pickups and trucks, and if they're able to register a complaint -- since we're so damned busy -- they'll have to prove it wasn't an act of God. And if they happen to have a lifetime guarantee, meaning they can bring the carpet back for a full refund if even one strand is out of place, I believe there's something in the small print about acts of God being excluded.

The two memorable couples we had in here yesterday have been back, angry and crying, the whole tiresome bit. The old couple who wanted a throw rug but was sold enough carpet for two whole houses were crying about what they called "a swindle." I don't know about you, but to me that's a hurtful word, calling into question my character. I don't like it. But I thought, They're old and don't know any better, so I took them back to my office and told them about my own dear grandparents and their hopes for me. By the time the three of us dried our eyes, I had sold them enough carpet for an additional house. And to sweeten the deal, as a tribute to my grandparents, I graciously gave them two lifetime guarantees for the price of one.

Then there was the younger couple, newlyweds, who had foolishly spent all their monetary wedding gifts and their tax refund on a mountain of carpet, based on the sales pitch that prices in the future will always go up. They were very irate, especially the groom, trying to prove his manhood. But I softened him up, telling him it was a lucky break that he came back when he did. I said, "You couldn't have timed it better if you tried!" and clapped him on the back as congratulations. He calmed down. I explained how it seemed clear to me he was a real wheeler-dealer, knowing we had a big 50% sale going on today. His wisdom, I said, was to back me in a corner, knowing I'd "cave" and give him an extra 10% off. Fortunately, they still had nearly $200 to their name. So, with 50% off plus an extra 10%, that meant they'd be able to get ... [figuring here] ... "You know what? $200 will completely cover it, and I'll even throw in a dozen free lifetime guarantees! Son, you drive a hard bargain!"

It's been a good run for me, managing a carpet store. We had a great run. And it's a little sad to see it end, but we had three wonderful days. And you can't ask for much more than that. Now, if I can only make it through the rest of the day -- all the way through vacating the building and running -- it ought to be interesting what comes next, what the organization has for me. Whatever it is, I'm sure it'll be great. Ah, yes! The criminal life, that's for me!

Criminal Carpet Store: Everything Must Go!

The carpet store just opened yesterday, and already today we're declaring, "Everything Must Go!" The lifespan of the criminally-operated fly-by-night carpet store being a week at the max, everything has to be very compressed.

We had a great day of sales yesterday, on our first day, and now that we trying to thin out the excess merchandise, of course the values are great. My personal recommendation to each of you is, If you need carpet, you better get down here, because it's going fast!

Customers were waiting at the door when we opened. I quickly scanned the crowd for anyone from yesterday who might be back for a refund or with a complaint, and seeing none, I stayed in sight. I welcomed them in, feeling very robust, but now that the day is wearing away, I'm getting a little fatigued. Still, as long as they're spending money, I'll be here to take it. Proudly! Knowing they're getting value for their money, something pretty resembling actual carpet.

So things have been going great. Except for one little thing. When I got here this morning, there was a minor fiasco. Some of the boys from the gang had brought in some new rolls last night which I didn't know about. I sat down to take a break and put my feet up on one of the rolls. I was shocked when the tufts started coming off on my feet. Obviously, they hadn't been gummed down properly with "Three Week Protector," so I had to fly around spurting it on haphazardly. There was no time. The only thing I've worried about today is if there's carpet coming off on people's hands while they're carrying it out. But there haven't been any complaints. I'll just have to be extra careful when opening tomorrow.

Like I said, sales have been great. The psychology of "Everything Must Go!" really plays with the folks. Who knew? They're more interested in scoring carpet before other customers get it than they are the price. Giving me the opportunity mid-morning to raise the price 10%, and no one complained. And since they're really stocking up, I've sold lifetime guarantees and all the various cleaning kits and supplies with every order. Every order except one. A teacher stopped in for a remnant for some school project, a little square, and she wouldn't buy the lifetime guarantee.

My two most memorable sales went to the very old and the very young. An old couple essentially needed a throw rug for their hall, something they said would be about 2½ foot by 8 foot. But I saw an opening for a bigger sale if I could keep some fast talking going, get them confused, and quickly close the deal. So they went out with enough carpet for one or more houses. My biggest fear was their skeptical son, who had to bring his truck to pick it up. But one of the guys told him I was on break.

The other sale was to a young couple, flush with cash from two sources, marriage gifts and their tax refund. My sales pitch was to buy all the carpet you think you might need in your life, because the prices are only guaranteed to go up. So they really loaded up, the young man's father having to rent a U-Haul truck to take it all away. (He was also skeptical.) As to the lifetime guarantee, they needed several, because I came up with a new policy on the spot that a lifetime guarantee only applies to a single type of carpet, and they bought several different ones. Plus, there was two of them, a husband and a wife, so that's two guarantees needed right there. Hey, no one held a gun to their head, although of course that could've been arranged...

We're raking in the money. Faster than printing it. And my aim is to do everything I can to rake in more. Because if I excel at this job, who knows what heights I might rise to in the organization! This time next week I could be one of the big bosses, if not before!

I'm Manager Of A Criminal Carpet Store

Imagine this, it's hard to believe but true! Just three short years ago, I was railing against the fly-by-night carpet stores. And now I'm the senior manager of one! How great is that?

And I owe my terrific progress -- a promotion on the first day! -- to choosing a life of crime. Who said crime doesn't pay! Johnny, the boss of our little subset of the organization got a call from Mr. Big, who said he was watching my progress -- me! -- and apparently liked what he saw! Mr. Big just put in another fly-by-night carpet store and he thought I could handle it!

Today's my first day. And if everything goes true to pattern, I'll have a pretty good job for a week, since these stores always close down about that fast. But that's OK with me. If I do good, Mr. Big will probably put me in charge of something else. I just have to show I'm real good at cheating customers, paying no attention to their complaints, and keeping out of sight if they persist.

OK, I'm going to level with you. I don't think the guys know about this blog. The carpet sucks, sucks bad. Just as an example, the tuft will barely stay on a month. But we have this spray solution, called "Three Week Protector," that gums up the tuft at the roots to hold it secure temporarily. By the time it adheres to people's feet, or sticks to their dog's tongue, or just blows off from the breeze through an open door, the store will have long since closed and moved on.

The whole thing is win-win-win for the organization, since we not only sell the carpet, we make it and the Three Week Protector. I'm honestly not sure how you make carpet, but my past experience with carpet, with it lasting for years and being durable in the face of vacuum cleaners, tells me this ain't it. And yet, and this is a indisputable point, even if you don't make it right, it still looks terrific. The patterns are great, just like what the Persians do. I love the designs. I just can't breathe too heavily anywhere near it till the Protector is on.

Along with the carpet, sold to unwary twerps, we have a pretty good lifetime guarantee they can buy. It's very very cheap and sells itself. Think about it. If you can get a lifetime guarantee on something for 100 bucks, and you've bought $3,000 worth of carpet, that's a great deal. If you see even a single strand that doesn't look right, whether it's your fault or not, whether the kid spilled grape juice on it or not, you just call and we'll replace the entire carpet in your home free of charge, no questions asked. Shoot! You buy that much carpet and somebody's going to replace it no matter what, for a one time fee of $100, you have to take it! But there's a downside: The guarantee's no good. LOL, this time next week there'll be a pizza joint here!

As far as supplies, this is where you need great sales skills. Because there's an intrinsic contradiction. We want to load up the customer with various chemicals, brushes, and protective throw rugs. But our basic sales pitch goes beyond just keeping it clean. We really sell with the pitch, "Protect your carpet investment." And people nod and fall for it. The contradiction is, since most people go for the lifetime guarantee, what's there to protect about the investment? We're supposed to replace it for free, one strand out of place. The way I'm going to do it is sell the kit with all the maintenance items before I press them on the guarantee. Sell the carpet, get a handshake. Sell the kit, get a handshake. Sell the lifetime guarantee, get a handshake. And the sale is made!

I'm looking forward to the week ahead, or three days or whatever it is. The better I do, the higher I will go in the organization. Plus, I'll have the satisfaction of knowing my customers have put their hard-earned money into a product they'll easily outlive.