I
recently figured out that I have been taken in a scam. As sad as I am
about this, I am really more embarrassed. I have spent countless
hours and dollars investing in this racket. My hope is that by
sharing my story, I can prevent others from being taken advantage of
in the future.
Back
in the day, there was Colombia House. You filled out a little form to
select a bunch of free albums. This enrolled you in an ongoing
auto-ship situation.
Every
month, they shipped you an automatic selection of music that you
would never actually purchase on purpose. If you neglected to mail
back “Mating Songs of the Upper Peninsula Cricket Played on
Didjeridoo” in a timely manner, it was yours to keep. And pay
for.
Much like the whole record scam, I fell for an
introductory offer that sounded too good to be true.
My
introductory product was perfect. She was tiny and pink. She had big
blue eyes. She had a perfect turned-up nose. I did think to check and
make sure they were really going to let me take her out of the
hospital. I was clear that my husband and I knew nothing. But I was
told at the hospital that not only could I take her, I was required
to do so by law.
I
should have watched that fine print.
This
scam wears you down. The combination of sleep deprivation, scream
torture, and constant require activities brainwashes you. You love
the scam. This is your favorite scam.
So
you get scammed again.
It
is worth noting that the introductory products are positively loaded
with bugs. They can’t follow simple English commands. There is
no off button. They leak. They require more care than a hothouse full
of orchids.
You
are not paid for your work. The scam depends on you understanding
that it is more work than anyone would do for money so you must do it
for free.
Everyone
else must be paid, though. By you. You will pay the doctor to make
sure your unit is running properly. You will pay the grocer to supply
it energy. You will pay the shoe store all the money you have because
someone thought it would be funny for your product to constantly
grow.
They
fall down. So much. You must tend to the yelling and try to ascertain
if there was an actual injury. There is no handbook or control panel
to guide you. There is just a small hole in the face that makes
tremendous amounts of noise for no good reason or because it just
shattered a bone. You get to guess.
They
ruin your other products. The couch you bought in a fit of optimism
will get colored. Your dishes will break. Your scam units will
vandalize other scam units. Apparently the programmers didn’t
think to make their software compatible. This means a lot of
face-hole noise about which unit is touching or looking at which
other unit.
If
you tell the two units that you do not care and want them to be quiet
for just a minute so that you can think through some of your choices,
you will be treated to all the face-hole noise in the world.
Your
unit continues to grow. Rather than getting smarter, it constantly
reveals how much it does not know. How to poop, for example, and
where. You must hack the unit so that it will consume vegetables and
accept mandatory shut-off each evening. You have to program it not to
hit or bite other units.
No
other product is this shabbily designed. I can put a gallon of milk
in my fridge safe in the knowledge that it will not make the butter
cry or start harassing the spinach. I can put coins in my purse
secure in the knowledge that one coin will not grab another coin and
perform the dreaded, “Stop hitting yourself, stop hitting
yourself.”
The
programming doesn’t stop. Even though the product was produced
in your native country by native language speakers, you will still
have to teach it not to say “You was” or “ain’t.”
However if you ever say a thing you should not one time you will find
your little unit has perfect and eternal recall. But you will still
have go over their spelling list every night.
Since
the unit was not actually programmed to do anything other than leak,
consume energy, and make face-hole sounds, you will spend all your
time teaching it.
You
will teach it to brush its teeth. You will teach it to put its dish
in the dishwasher. You will teach it to mop the floor even though you
could have mopped 10 hothouses full of orchids in the time it takes
your unit to do a not-great job.
In return for all this care
and teaching, you will also have to teach your unit not to follow
other scam victims home and not to talk to people who are not their
own hackers.
The good news is that with nearly 20 years of
careful care, your unit will become functional. The unit can
communicate in one or possibly more languages. The unit can say
things that are interesting and important instead only making
face-hole noise.
The
unit can clean your house quickly. The unit will make you laugh. You
will feel great joy and accomplishment at the programming of the
unit.
Then
it will leave you. That is the ugly dark secret of this scam. You
will spend all your time trying to get your unit to function and when
it does, it rolls out into the world to delight and entertain total
strangers. You will be stuck home alone, fondly remembering their
leaky noisy days. (The early brainwashing is just that good)
I
am not sure what the solution is. Even if I had been told it was a
scam up front, I still would have taken that introductory offer. I
still would have cheerfully taken additional units. Maybe I am just
not smart.
But
they had sparkly eyes and smelled like summer (when they weren’t
leaking). I still would have put all my time into training them. It’s
better than having malfunctioning units rolling around in the
basement making face-hole noise for pizza when comparable units are
grown.
But
still, it’s a scam. It breaks your heart.
There
is no one to be mad at. You just didn’t really understand the
fine print. Your units are not to blame. You just didn’t know
it would go so fast. You didn’t know that once you trained
them, they would be the only people you wanted to be with.
They
are gone. You are proud. You are sad, but not sorry. You love them
and wish them the best. But you will smile when they call and say
“We’re having a baby.” You will not show them the
fine print. You will not tell them this will end in tears. You will
tell them the baby is beautiful.
I am me. I live at my house with my husband and kids. Mostly because I have found that people
get really touchy if you try to live at their house. Even after you explain that their towels are
fluffier and none of the cheddar in their fridge is green.
I teach Relief Society and most of the sisters in the ward are still nice enough to come.