Nigerian Scammers: even savvy people can get fooled.

I pride myself on being internet savvy. I pride myself on being business savvy. I am hardly naïve, and my New York City background makes me naturally suspicious. My husband, too, is no fool when it comes to things that just don’t pass “the smell test”.  But if it wasn’t for a little voice in my head, instinct that kicked in at the very last second, we most definitely would have become two very chagrined–and perhaps, poorer— people in a long line of scam victims generated from Nigerian scammers on the internet. At the very least, our bank and identity details would have been compromised and probably used to set up bogus accounts for illegal merchandise delivery.

Since Nigerian scammers are usually known for talking people into sending advance sums of money in the hopes of a significantly larger gain, his desire to buy tile murals didn’t seem to be unsavory. At no time was any money requested. The whole thing, from start to finish, felt perfectly legitimate and the process was exactly like any other international buyer wanting to purchase a tile mural from us.

Last year, about eight months ago, I received an email from a very articulate man from Nigeria. Now, of course, his native country naturally set off alarm bells. I will always, however, read whatever is sent to me carefully from any prospective customer before reaching a definite conclusion as to their legitimacy. It costs nothing to read or communicate with someone, and that is what I did. This gentleman was very different than any scammer I had come across in the past, and for many reasons. Let me tell you what those reasons are—exactly what made him different and, therefore, way more capable of engendering trust– so you, too, can be made aware of just how sophisticated these scammers are becoming, and act accordingly. Forewarned is forearmed.

He wanted to buy four ceramic tile murals. Four very large murals. They were to be installed in an outdoor tunnel, and they were to depict four much-loved Nigerian leaders. He was, he said, a representative of the Nigerian government, and had authority to purchase on their behalf for this “tunnel beautification project.” After having contacted me in Spring 2008 initially, and getting some information from me as to if I had the capability of doing this, he said the approval process was long and drawn out, (bureaucratic delays from governments are pretty typical) and it would probably be some time before I heard from him again. This in itself was unusual for a scammer, because the contacts from scammers are usually quick and urgent, and these people usually don’t let months go by before they contact you a second time. These multiple contacts over a months-long lapse builds subsconscious trust. This time, it most certainly did. That long delay, and all the questions about our service capabilities, disarmed me.

Now, scammers are always vague about what they want to buy. For example, they will tell you they want to buy “six coffee tables” or other very large items, and they will not tell you the kind of artwork they want printed on the items. You’re buying custom art products and you don’t care about the artwork? Red flag. Scammers, too, will be happily willing to pay retail price, even though they are buying in bulk. Red flag. They (scammers) will not bitch about price, or get you to come down, or beg you to “do better.” Red flag.  They will rush the transaction, telling you how urgent a quick delivery is. Red flag. They will not be familiar with you, your company, your services or products. In fact, it will be clear they haven’t even read your website. Red flag. Your contact will offer quick, as opposed to long, drawn out discussions about the transaction. Red flag. None of these typical red flags appeared throughout our discussions.  This man is someone who has studied the American way of doing business, and he was quite good. Lethally so.

He knew exactly what he wanted, the size murals he wanted, the type of tile and size tile he wanted, and the subject matter he wanted on the murals. He sent me four small images of past (and I am assuming, much loved) Nigerian leaders for the murals. After telling him I couldn’t use such small images, that they were not high resolution enough for printing and not even good for enlarging, we both discussed options about what we could do to get high resolution photos or illustrations of these men. He asked me if I could reproduce from Nigerian currency, which he later sent small scans of via email. I said I probably could from the original currency. He expressed concern that the currency numbers on the bills would look bad, and could I retouch them out? Yes, I could, I told him. He also wanted custom text under each man’s name, such as their birth date and death date, and some other information.  Could I do that? Yes, I told him, of course I could. In other words, what he wanted was very specific and exacting. Just like anybody spending a goodly amount of money would be—and the desire to cover such specifics are very unlike most scammers operating online. In fact, he called me on the telephone a couple of times–something else these scammers *never* do. They have always limited their contact to email. This, too, was disarming.

He provided a full name, street address, company name and phone numbers and fax numbers in Lagos. In fact, his email address was generated from a corporation, not merely a web-based email addy. So far, all looked legitimate. In fact, he urged me to call *him* a few times, but I always opted for email.

After working up a bid for the four murals, and explaining the amount of work involved, he complained that our price was too high and asked if I could come down. He did not realize how expensive this would be. This also had the net effect of relaxing any suspicions I might have had, because this is a very typical way of conducting business—not only in the United States, but all over the world, people will always try to get the best price. In this case, the price came to $18,500.00 including shipping.  Now that we are on the subject of shipping, most Nigerian scammers will insist on some involved, twisty shipping process that includes their own”special courier” and what not. This man never insisted that the boxes be shipped a certain way, or by using *his* special courier. This, too, had the effect of relaxing any suspicions I might have had. So far, he was batting a thousand.

Yesterday, we reached the end of the week-long negotiating process, and had hammered out all the details. I had won the bid, he told me. I was getting the project because I could do what no other tile company was able to do as far as intensive retouching. (Here, too, he was correct. It is safe to say that no tile mural company has the customization capability that we have. He was not wrong.) He also expressed extreme admiration for our tile mural site, and this, too, was not unusual–we receive glowing compliments quite frequently about the quality of our work and presentation online. We realize that we are an anomaly as far as our capabilities, and we know that our competition cannot come close to doing what we can as far as from-scratch, intensely customized design. We *are* special, so we didn’t feel that he was “blowing smoke up our skirts” a little southern expression my Texan husband likes to use. We know that we are different, and we know that our capabilities are singular.

He was to send me the currency I was to use for reproduction, and he also wanted a sample tile. This, too, was very smart. Anybody sending eighteen thousand dollars would insist on seeing at least one sample tile, and the fact that he did, as well, continued to relax or erase any suspicions I might have had. He also wanted to know “what percentage” of the fee I wanted up front instead of blithely agreeing to send the whole thing. This too, was very smart, putting another roadblock up, and not an unreasonable one. I explained that for an order this size, and because he was a first-time buyer, we had to have the whole amount up front. He agreed to that, albeit grudgingly.

And then three things happened. First, I saw a North Carolina number on my caller ID when he phoned. I questioned him about it and he seemed honestly befuddled, wondering if it had anything to do with the fact that he was on a cell phone. It concerned me enough to mention it to my husband, and we both were ultimately too excited about the possibility of the huge order to give it much credence. Cell phones can show wonky numbers and be tied into any network, who knows why that happened? We blew it off. Kinda. It was a red flag, though, and I started to be on my guard. But at this point, we had every intention of going through with the transaction.

Then, in order to ease his mind about sending eighteen thousand big ones to a strange company in a strange country, I offered to contact the Nigerian Embassy in Washington, D.C. in order to proffer our business credentials and prove our legitimacy. When I mentioned this offer of good faith on the phone, he couldn’t change the subject more quickly. *That* was my second red flag.

The end game: I was just about to send him my bank routing and account numbers—a second away from clicking “send”—when I stopped. A little voice in my head said, “no. Is this safe? You better find out.” I removed my finger from the “send” button and instead Googled this phrase: “is it safe to send bank routing and account numbers?” and boy, did I get an eyeful. No, it wasn’t safe, and people on support groups and discussion boards enumerated all the reasons why it was not. Yes, they could remove money if they know how to work the system, but even more often, they use that information and identity to set up bogus accounts and get bogus credit so that they may ship/receive hot merchandise all over the world. Now, I have had people from other countries wire us payment before, with no problems whatsoever. I had assumed it was safe. I had no idea it was not.

Then, I phoned my bank. I told them my concerns and the manager was pretty adamant about *not* sending him that information but instead, demanding a bank check sent by mail. Yes, sending this information was dangerous, she said, and the bank could not guarantee protection. That’s all I had to hear. I wiped my forehead, relieved I followed my instincts. “I have to tip my hat to you, honey”, my husband said. “I thought being the recipient of a money wire was perfectly safe, too.”

I asked for a certified bank check and have not heard from him yet. Since I have heard from him every day for a week now, it’s pretty clear I won’t be hearing from him again. Nothing yet today, and he usually emails first thing in the morning. I think we dodged a bullet. And, after this post, I hope you have more ammo with which to protect yourself.

Addendum, April 2009: Well, it just goes to show you. Sometimes you can be surprised, pleasantly, by the world. You know what? Not all Nigerians are scammers. Call it a a miracle, call it a fairy tale, but a about a month ago, the deal was closed and they proved themselves to be perfectly and completely legitimate. To that end, we received a rather large cash payment drawn on an American bank for twelve, yes, twelve tile murals. The biggest order we’ve ever had in our six years in business. We are in production right now, and are thrilled to be working with some of the nicest and most professional people we’ve ever had the pleasure of working with. These murals are for a city beautification project in Lagos, Nigeria. They depict beloved (mostly, albeit assassinated) Nigerian leaders banked by a beautiful African pattern mural on each side of the main mural. I shudder when I think about how close we came to losing the project;  I made them jump through hoop after hoop to prove their legitimacy, all the while believing nothing they said. They took it with calm good humor, because, after all, they are used to it. “It’s a shame,” my client says, “that because of our country’s bad reputation and some bad apples that people like us have a hard time conducting international business.” Nigeria, here’s to you I am sorry I doubted you. -MS