Malicious phishing scam helps reconnect old friends

By Larry Persily

My Gmail account was hacked last week. So much for spending the Fourth of July eating ice cream — after hot dogs first, of course. I spent much of my Saturday resetting passwords, signing out, taking a digital shower and signing back in.

And apologizing. Lots of that. I received phone calls, texts and emails from more than three dozen friends, relatives, close acquaintances and names from the past, asking about the suspicious email they had received from my account. 

And those were the smart ones who asked before opening the email. I don’t know how many others clicked on the fake invitation to a party, with the obvious misspelling in the subject line, and then either were too embarrassed to say anything or didn’t care all that much anyway.

One longtime friend was honest (and smart) enough to say she figured it was a scam. She pointed out that I never invite anyone to a party, so it had to be a phishing expedition. I think the last time was as a fifth-grader when I hung paper lanterns in my backyard and called it a dance party. I guess maybe I decided it was just too much work and haven’t done it again since 1962.

Aside from the online embarrassment of sharing an email virus — I told one friend I felt like I had spread a sexually transmitted disease — and causing anxiety and work for people on the holiday weekend, it was a bit of a reconnecting weekend.

I heard from a former co-worker (1974), who commented that he and I are the only ones of the magazine crew still alive. That was uplifting.

I heard from a friend of more than 30 years, who I have always held in a special memory in my life: She had regifted me a box of unwelcome “apology” chocolates she received from an ex-boyfriend. I felt honored to accept the jilted box of sweets.

The calls, texts and emails ranged from people on the East Coast to my condo neighbor two doors away. From the daughter of a college friend to my only niece, who was smart enough not to open the false invitation. She’s a mechanical engineer, so I would expect no less of her calculating mind.

After answering the emails, I took a break from apologizing to consider what punishment would be appropriate if I could ever discover the person or program or phisher who started the mess. It had to match the crime, which is to say more annoying and time-wasting and embarrassing than physical retribution. No corporal punishment.

I didn’t think writing “I’m sorry, I will not phish again” 100 times on a blackboard was the right way to go. No more blackboards.

Maybe require them to write an essay about why it’s wrong to scam and spam innocent people. But I suspect they would simply cheat and ask AI to help.

I could demand that they write a check to a charity, but I expect it would bounce.

After giving it too much thought, I decided an appropriate punishment would be to require the culprits to spend their own money to throw a free party for everyone in the world who has been victimized by their email hacks. The only problem is that no one would trust the email invite.

• Larry Persily is the publisher of the Wrangell Sentinel, which first published this column.