By Jay Jamison
There was no sign of forced entry. No evidence that someone had gone through my physical belongings. I had no sense that there had been an invasion of my domicile, my safe personal space. I had no inkling that something was amiss until I started getting messages, and phone calls from family, friends and acquaintances asking if I was OK. People even came to my front door, worried that I was not well. Each of these people had received an email allegedly from me claiming that I had laryngitis, and as a result I couldn’t call them on the phone. The message continued that I needed a favor from the recipient. The first messages asking about my health surprised me. It soon dawned on me that I’d been hacked. I clicked the contacts button on my email site, hoping to send out a group email to all the addresses saved in my system, only to discover that the entire file had been emptied of its contents.
Many acquaintances already know that I’m not very savvy when it comes to computers in general and social media in particular. Each cell phone call and each knock at my front door meant that I needed to repeat the explanation that the email about my supposed laryngitis was fraudulent, and they need to delete the bogus message immediately. I started making phone calls to family and friends referencing the trusty old rolodex on my desk — my low-tech response to a high-tech attack. Hours later I’d gone through every phone number on every card, reacquainting myself with some people I hadn’t spoken with in years. Phone calls take more time than hitting the send message on a mass email posting. You don’t just say, “Hi, I’ve been hacked. Gotta go.” So, I engaged in breathless conversation as best I could, ever aware of the fact that there are many people out there who needed to be warned. Some people offered advice about what to do. Much of it went in one ear and out the other as my panic built on itself.
I called my internet provider, and they offered little help except encouraging me to sign up for their special technical service, at a price, of course. Unlike the case of a burglary, one doesn’t call the police after being hacked. The culprits will probably remain unknown, since they may be thousands of miles away, in another country. I may get some useable advice after the publication of this column, but as I write this, there seems there is little I can do after being hacked, except to fortify my computer with more antivirus software against another attack.
It’s hard to put a good spin onto a story like this, but during my frantic phone-a-thon I got re-acquainted with many friends who I haven’t spoken to in a long time. A second plus to come out of this is that the conmen who hacked me, gave me an idea for a column (500 + words) for this edition of The Source. Thanks, but no thanks.
