Last Thanksgiving, a client emailed me, asking to transfer funds to another account of hers—electronically. But we can’t do that by email. So, I let her know I’d need to call her.
We verify some personal information, but she’s in some kind of train or subway station and it’s too loud. She says she’ll call me back. But something in her voice sounded “off” to me. So, when I hang up—I call her work number. And she’s there. It wasn’t her. I explain that someone has her information is trying to get into her accounts—walk her through who to call and what to do to protect herself, right now. And then, I wait to see if the other woman will call me back—as she said she would.
She does. And caller ID not only shows my client’s cell phone number—but somehow, she gives me all the information needed to make an electronic transfer—and more. Enough in fact, that someone at a large financial firm could have easily, and legitimately, transferred her money. My client would have been devastated. But, because I knew her well enough to recognize her voice, it didn’t work. I was so relieved that I stopped this from ruining her holiday season.