We Almost Got Scammed out of $8,000!
Trusting your gut can be your greatest asset, and let me take you back to the beginning of our nomadic journey. We had set our sights on a new adventure, carefully planned the timeline, selected our first destination, and embarked on the quest for a rental that ticked all our boxes. Months ahead of our intended move, we thought we had ample time to secure housing. Little did we know that Chicago in the summer was a hot commodity, with rental properties disappearing faster than deep-dish pizza on a Friday night.
Armed with determination, we scoured Airbnb, VRBO, Furnished Finder, Facebook Marketplace groups, and, yes, even Craigslist. Now, before you judge the Craigslist choice, know that I spent six blissful years in a Baltimore apartment sourced from the same platform. I'm no stranger to skepticism and cautious decision-making. I didn't blindly hand over money; instead, I subjected the potential rental to a rigorous interrogation.
I questioned the property manager, conducted an interview, reviewed the lease, and even requested a virtual tour (which, unfortunately, wasn't possible due to current residents—something we ourselves have rejected while occupying a place in Florida). I cross-checked a real estate agent number, scrutinized bank accounts and addresses that were provided, and reviewed the rental application. Everything seemed to check out; the agent number was active, addresses were valid, and even my uncle, a seasoned commercial property manager, vouched for the legitimacy of the lease.
Yet, despite all the green flags, my gut was uneasy. They required the standard first and last months' rent, plus a security deposit—a common arrangement for leasing an apartment. Seeking advice from travel nurse friends who had been in similar situations, I found their experiences aligned with this costly demand. Still, my gut persisted, and I found myself in a quandary.
The money lingered in my account for an extra day, and I spent a restless night mulling it over. The next morning, fueled by uncertainty, I delved into a renewed investigation of the agent number. Connecting the dots, I traced it back to a reputable commercial real estate company and contacted the boss. Shockingly, the truth unraveled—it was all a lie.
As it turned out, this scam had victimized others in the past, and they thought they had eradicated it. The scam replicated the same location, the same apartment, and exploited the agent number of an unsuspecting individual, deceiving multiple victims, myself included.
Swiftly, I filed a police report, shared all pertinent information with law enforcement and the boss, and reported the listing on Craigslist. Unsurprisingly, the scammers, thwarted by my discovery, bombarded me with calls and texts. I went no-contact, fearing they might possess personal details. When their relentless attempts failed, they resorted to looking me up on LinkedIn, impersonating my CEO in a feeble attempt to regain control. Little did they know, I saw through their ruse and chuckled at their audacity because there is no way in hell, my CEO gave a shit about me even IF he knew I existed and was an employee and he definitely was not texting my personal phone number.
In the aftermath, we vigilantly monitored our bank accounts and sensitive information. Fortunately, we dodged identity theft, but the lingering feeling of almost succumbing to an $8,000 scam still haunts me. I count myself lucky, but the harsh reality is that not everyone is as fortunate.
If you're contemplating the nomadic lifestyle, consider learning from our almost failure s to steer clear of scams that could potentially derail your plans, just as we narrowly escaped. Stay tuned for an article on how to spot a scam vs a legitimate listing.
