Today is National Prank Day, better known as April Fools’ Day. As with many holidays, it remains unclear exactly what the origins are. There are many theories, some of which make sense and others that do not. Regardless of how it all started, the day of practical jokes and pranks has survived for many centuries in many countries around the world.
 
While I’ve been known to play a few practical jokes from time to time, I’ve never really gotten into the whole April Fools’ Day thing. I think it’s because that’s the day such things are expected. The day when playing pranks is considered normal. I prefer to not be predictable when it comes to jokes or pranks. So, I try to avoid attempting to pull a fast one on anyone on April 1st.
 
Of course, convincing people that I’m NOT playing a joke on them on April 1st is sometimes a chore. Like one time when I called my wife.
 
My pickup had broken down and rather than walk the two miles to the auto parts store, I was hoping she would be able to give me a ride. But she didn’t believe me. She kept saying, “Right. April Fools.”
 
For a moment, I was tempted to just hang up and walk to her job, take her vehicle and return home to fix my pickup. It would have been worth the walk just imagining her getting off work and coming out to find no car!
 
Eventually, I did convince her that I actually needed a ride. Good thing too, I think —because knowing my luck, she would have reported the car as stolen. That would have been fun when the cops showed up. Or not. Somehow I don’t think shouting “April Fools” would have been all that dissuading to them. ~
 
 
Bruce A. Borders is the author of more than a dozen books, including: Inside Room 913, Over My Dead Body, The Journey, Miscarriage Of Justice, The Lana Denae Mysteries, and The Wynn Garrett Series. Available in ebook at www.amazon.com/Bruce-A.-Borders/e/B006SOLWQS and paperback on Amazon, Barnes & Noble and Books-a-Million. 
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Thought I’d share my recent experience with a scam artist. Maybe save someone from losing their hard-earned money.
 
It started with me answering a Help Wanted ad in the online classifieds. The ad was listed was for a Warehouse Assistant for Wright Textile. Starting salary was $2,800 - $3,300 per month. After some difficulty — the guy had neglected to leave any contact information — I managed to get in touch with the place.
 
They wanted the standard information, a résumé and cover letter, which I provided. Then there were a few more questions, along with a request for references. After a few emails, they offered me the job.
 
The guy was a traveling businessman who dealt in art and other antiquities. The story was he would soon be opening a gallery in my area and needed someone to take delivery of the shipments and deliver them to the warehouse. I would also need to correspond with some of the sellers on the guy’s behalf and arrange for payments, keep accurate books for accounts receivable and payable.
 
It would start as a part time job; 15 hours per week for which I would be paid $500. If all went well, the job would become full time with a substantial pay increase.
 
This sounded good to me, although, from the start, I sort of had my doubts about it all. As did my son, who said “It’s a scam,” the moment I told him about the job. There was just something, not sure what, said it wasn’t legitimate. One clue was, the guy, whose name was Bryan Wright, seemed to have a little trouble with the English language. That alone wasn’t reason enough to dismiss the job though and I was willing to give him the benefit of the doubt. But the farther along things progressed the more red flags there were. Like his name changing to Bryan Chan in later emails.
 
After a few more days I began to assume the whole thing was a scam. Still, I was curious and wanted to know what sort of scam he was running, so I played along. And, there always was the slight possibility that everything was on the up and up.
 
Bryan Chan eventually told me I was hired and that my first paycheck, as well as my first assignment, would be arriving in the mail. I waited for a week, and then another. Nothing came in the mail. About the time I figured the guy had just been wanting my information, I did get a check in the mail. It was a cashier’s check for $1550.30.
 
I didn’t get too excited. First I looked up the credit union the check had come from and found that it was a real bank. I then took the check to my bank and they did an initial query to see if the funds were available. They were. So, I deposited it.
 
The next day, I received my “instructions.” I was to take $250 out for myself and send the balance to Motherless Babies Home in Dallas, Texas. Well, sort of. The director of the Motherless Babies Home had requested the money be sent to her accountant in Dallas via a Moneygram. This all sounded odd to me, like money laundering or something. It didn’t make sense that I would be needed for such a transaction. If Mr. Bryan Chan wanted to donate to Motherless Babies Home (which is apparently a legitimate charity) he could have sent the funds directly to them in any number of ways. No need to pay me $250 to do it unless he was wanting to hide the transaction. A Moneygram, of course, would have my name attached. Whether legal or not, whatever he was up to, didn’t sound like something I wanted to be connected with.
 
I sent off an email, advising Mr. Chan that I was declining the job. I also may have alluded to some discussion with the Sheriff’s Office, which may or may not have happened. And then I asked for his address, you know, in case I needed to send the check back. Strangely, he didn’t want to provide his address. And he kept insisting that I send the funds off immediately. At this point I still didn’t know what the scam was. But I was still curious. The next day, I found out.
 
Visiting my bank, trying to find information, I was given the details on what the deal likely was.
 
The cashier’s check that I’d deposited was originally a good check — maybe — but before the transaction could be completed, whoever had written it would write another one with the same numbers and send it through for processing ahead of mine. Which would then make the check they’d sent me return as fraudulent. The idea is that most people would have already cashed the fraudulent check, purchased a Moneygram and sent it off. And, as a result, they would be out the $1300.30.
 
Meanwhile, Mr. Bryan Chan was getting antsy. He kept sending me emails, demanding to know what the problem was and why I hadn’t done as he’d instructed. Of course, he tried to play to my sympathies by referencing the poor motherless babies who were depending on me.
 
A couple of days later, the scenario given to me by my bank proved accurate; the check had been returned as fraudulent. I sent one final email, informing Mr. Chan that the “problem” he wondered about was that he’d sent me a fraudulent check. As such, I said I wouldn’t be sending any amount of money to anyone.
 
Strangely, I haven’t heard from the man since. ~
 
Bruce A. Borders is the author of more than a dozen books, including: Inside Room 913, Over My Dead Body, The Journey, Miscarriage Of Justice, The Lana Denae Mysteries, and The Wynn Garrett Series. Available in ebook at www.amazon.com/Bruce-A.-Borders/e/B006SOLWQS and paperback on Amazon, Barnes & Noble and Books-a-Million. 

​So, almost all of the snow is gone from around my house! About time. I’ve lived in this town for 29 winters and I’ve never seen snow on the ground in March. Sure, at times there’s been a little skiff but it was usually gone faster than it came. This year, we’re talking feet of snow.
 
And it’s been here since early February. That’s a long time to put up with snow when winter should have been long gone. But I’m pretty sure it’s my fault.
 
See, back in January, I wrote a blog post celebrating the mild winter we were having. And almost immediately, things changed. The unseasonably warm temperatures turned unseasonably cold. The couple of little snow flurries we’d experienced turned to piles of snow.
 
A month and a half. That’s how long it’s been. It was supposed to be WARM by now. Usually, by mid-March, I’ve already mowed the lawn a couple of times. This year, it’ll be April before the lawn even starts growing.
 
So, I’ve learned my lesson. No more reveling in the mild winter on my blog — at least for this year. ~
 
Bruce A. Borders is the author of more than a dozen books, including: Inside Room 913, Over My Dead Body, The Journey, Miscarriage Of Justice, The Lana Denae Mysteries, and The Wynn Garrett Series. Available in ebook at www.amazon.com/Bruce-A.-Borders/e/B006SOLWQS and paperback on Amazon, Barnes & Noble and Books-a-Million.

​For a few minutes this past week, I thought the world was going to end. Not because any impending catastrophe was imminent. No, the reason was more innocuous than that.
 
Here’s what happened: Someone hacked one of my email accounts. Not the main email that I use, so that was good. But they were able to then get into my Facebook pages.
 
Okay, not exactly the end of the world scenario I started out with but still a little aggravating. I didn’t really lose any sleep or anything but it was just another issue I needed to deal with that I shouldn’t have.
 
From what I could tell, they didn’t really do much, no off-color posts, no posting of links to some other country, no attempts to scam anyone. I assume they just wanted information, and they probably got that. But, I don’t really post anything on Facebook that’s a big secret so...
 
As far as the email goes, I have no idea what they did with that. I could’ve sent a ton of spam out, I suppose. Well, not me but my account. so it would appear to come from me. But no one has sent me an angry response, so maybe not.
 
I think it’s all taken care of now, my Facebook accounts seem to be normal and I once again have control of my email. Now, I get to what to see what else they might do. Yay!
 
Such is life in the modern world. A few years ago, no one had to worry about being hacked. Now, it’s becoming a regular occurrence. Which is good in a way. If, by chance, people start receiving things that are totally out of character for the person supposedly sending them, it’s a good indication that they’ve been hacked.
 
Keep that in mind over the next few days. Just in case something untoward shows up, appearing to be from me, you’ll know it’s not. I hope! In any event, it’s not the end of the world! ~
 
Bruce A. Borders is the author of more than a dozen books, including: Inside Room 913, Over My Dead Body, The Journey, Miscarriage Of Justice, The Lana Denae Mysteries, and The Wynn Garrett Series. Available in ebook at www.amazon.com/Bruce-A.-Borders/e/B006SOLWQS and paperback on Amazon, Barnes & Noble and Books-a-Million.

While sitting in a restaurant with my wife this past weekend, my mind began to wander. Way back. About 44 years ago. Back to another time when I was sitting in that very same restaurant. It’s undergone some renovation and has a new name, but still the same building.
 
I could see the place the way it used to be, and for a minute or two it was almost like I’d traveled back in time. I started to smile to myself as I remembered an incident. My wife asked what I was thinking and I related the story to her. She didn’t think it was all that funny, so I thought I’d give it a try here:
 
S, there I was, about seven or eight years old, sitting at a table with my brother. We’d been there for quite some time, about two hours or more, waiting on our parents to finish talking to whoever we were with. Sorry, I don’t remember just who else was there.
 
We were at our own table, and getting a little restless. So, we got the bright idea of using our straws to shoot pieces of the crushed ice from our drinks. At first we aimed at various insignificant things: the windows, pictures on the wall, or the exit sign. Then, one of us, not sure who, started launching our ice projectiles toward an elderly man sitting across the dining area. Soon, it was both of us, taking turns. Seeing who could hit our new “target.”
 
A few of our missiles landed close and the guy, a little confused, would look around wondering what was going on. Then, one of us — again, not sure which one — scored a direct hit. The old man was a bit startled as the ice splattered over his glasses. He took them off to clean them and gazed around the room, searching for the culprit. My brother and I feigned innocence of course, acting like we weren’t paying attention to the man and his “adventure.”
 
It should have been rather obvious who the guilty party was —we were the only kids in the entire restaurant — but for some reason the man never said a word. Not to us or our parents. Just resumed eating. Although, he did try to keep a watchful eye out for the rest of his meal.
 
Figuring we’d gotten away with enough for one night, we held our fire and moved on to other things. I couldn’t really tell you what, but probably things just as mischievous.
 
I know, not a very inspirational story. Hardly noble. But hey, we were kids. Kids having fun. We had a laugh and no one got hurt so all in all a decent outcome — sort of. I guess that depends on one’s perspective.
 
Then I had another thought; maybe there’s more to these straw bans than just the stupidity of legislators...  ~
 
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Bruce A. Borders is the author of more than a dozen books, including: Inside Room 913, Over My Dead Body, The Journey, Miscarriage Of Justice, The Lana Denae Mysteries, and The Wynn Garrett Series. Available in ebook at www.amazon.com/Bruce-A.-Borders/e/B006SOLWQS and paperback on Amazon, Barnes & Noble and Books-a-Million. ​