Trouble from a Mispaid Phone Bill
It all started with a phone call at six in the morning on a Sunday.
A womans voice on the other end of the line was already barking orders. Shed made a mistake topping up her phone credit. Not only had she typed the wrong last digit, but shed also keyed in two thousand dollars instead of twenty.
Now, she was demanding I transfer the money back to her immediately. As for the two grand in creditenough to cover my phone bill for the next sixteen yearswell, that was just my lucky day, I guess.
Are you kidding me? My phone plan is ten dollars a month.
I took a deep breath and tried to explain. "You can just call your service provider. They can reverse the transaction for you."
Her response was a direct threat. "What's that supposed to mean? You're trying to keep my money? You think I can't find you? I'll cave your head in, you hear me?"
At first, I didn't believe her.
But when I found myself backed against my own front door, with eight stitches crisscrossing my scalp, I believed her then.
1
As a corporate drone trapped in the 9-to-5 grind, sleeping in on a Sunday is my only solace.
That Sunday, however, a series of calls at 6 AM shattered that peaceful dream.
I irritably swiped to answer, and a torrent of abuse immediately assaulted my ear.
"What the hell is wrong with you? Are you dead? Took you long enough to pick up!"
I pulled the phone away, confused, and looked at the screen.
It was an unknown number.
"I'm sorry, who is this?"
"Never mind who I am. I sent phone credit to the wrong number. I need you to send it back to me, right now. The account number is"
A flicker of annoyance sparked within me. Disturbing someone's sleep is a cardinal sin. And to do it with such arrogance after making a mistake yourself? She was really stacking her rudeness buffs to the max.
Fueled by a week's worth of early mornings, I asked impatiently, "How much?"
"Two thousand dollars."
"How much?"
The last remnants of sleep vanished. I was sure I had misheard.
"Two thousand! What, are you deaf?" the voice on the other end shrieked.
Two thousand dollars?
Who in their right mind tops up their phone with that much money? They must be loaded.
My first thought was that this had to be a scam.
As if reading my mind, the woman on the phone started to explain.
"I meant to put in twenty, but I hit the zero key too many times, and before I knew it, Id entered my PIN. And on top of that, I typed the wrong number. Just send me the money, and you can keep the credit for yourself."
Two grand in phone credit?
That was completely useless to me.
My plan was a bare-bones, ten-dollar-a-month deal. Two thousand dollars would last me for over sixteen years. I work out to keep from dying of a heart attack at my desk, but Im not confident Ill live another sixteen years, let alone need a phone for all of them.
Besides, my monthly salary is only three thousand. Who would be stupid enough to dump nearly a full month's pay into their phone?
"That's way too much," I said. "I'll never be able to use that. You should contact your service provider and have them reverse the charge."
"Why should I? It's my money! Why won't you give it back to me?"
I patiently explained again. "I have no use for that much credit. But you can go to one of their stores with your transaction record, and they'll cancel it for you."
The woman was relentless.
"I don't know how to do that. The money went to your number, so you have to give it back to me. If you don't, I'll call the cops on you. Two thousand dollars is enough to put you in jail for a few years, you know."
I had to laugh.
This lady knew a little bit about the law.
Very little.
"Do what you want," I said, and hung up.
Woken up at the crack of dawn, and then yelled at for no reason. Even a saint would lose their temper, let alone a sleep-deprived wage slave like me.
After hanging up, I blocked the number.
She made the mistake. Why should I be the one to pay for it?
I tossed my phone aside, pulled the covers over my head, and went back to sleep.
2
When I woke up again, six hours had passed.
I pulled back the curtains, and the bright noon sun flooded my bedroom. A full night's sleep and a dose of sunlight-induced serotonin had me feeling refreshed and clear-headed.
My stomach rumbled. Time for lunch.
A corporate drone with only one day off doesn't venture outside. I picked up my phone to order some food.
My blood ran cold when I saw the screen: ninety-nine-plus missed calls.
And with them, an endless stream of profanity-laced texts that would make a sailor blush.
Just as I finished placing my order, another unknown number called.
Furious, I answered, ready to strike first. "Are you insane? If you made a mistake with your phone credit, call the provider! Why do you keep harassing me?"
The person on the other end was even angrier than I was.
"Are you f*cking dead? I've been calling you all morning and you don't pick up? You think I won't use that two grand to buy you a coffin?"
This time it was a man's voice, probably the woman's husband.
My good mood for the day was completely ruined.
Id been living and working on my own for three years since graduation. I always made a point of only sharing good news with my family back home, never the bad, so they wouldn't worry.
With that in mind, I took a deep breath, determined not to cause trouble, and patiently explained the situation one more time.
"I have a ten-dollar-a-month plan. That two thousand dollars will take me over sixteen years to use. If you're in a hurry, you should contact customer service. They can refund the money to your account."
The man didn't hesitate for a second. "Cut the crap. So what if it takes sixteen years? You can leave it to your grandkids. Customer service will take at least a week to process the refund, and I can't wait that long. You need to transfer the money to my account right now, or I'll find someone to cave your head in. You hear me?"
Unbelievable.
They couldn't wait seven days, but they expected me to accept a phone credit balance that would outlive my cat.
How could they even say that with a straight face?
Since six this morning, it had been a nonstop barrage: a mistaken transaction, a rude awakening, verbal abuse, and now a death threat.
Did they think they were kings of the world?
A volcano of anger erupted inside me.
"Can't wait seven days? Are you in a hurry to get to your own funeral? Why should I have to pay for your mistake? Either you call customer service and get your money back the right way, or I'll send you ten dollars a month until you die, and then your grandkids can inherit the rest."
I slammed the phone down. To ensure I wouldn't be disturbed again, I popped the SIM card out of my backup phone and tossed it in a drawer.
3
When my food arrived, I forced myself to put the whole incident out of my mind. I put on my favorite show on my tablet and settled in for a nice, relaxing lunch.
After eating, I watched a bit of a new series with my favorite actor, did some laundry, and tidied up the apartment. The day slipped away quietly.
I was just about to head to the supermarket to pick up some groceries for a nice home-cooked dinner when my phone rang again.
It was my main number this time.
I thought it might be my parents or a friend.
But when I saw the number on the screen, I froze. It was the police.
They told me someone had filed a report, claiming I had defrauded them of two thousand dollars, and that I needed to come down to the precinct immediately.
I gritted my teeth, a fresh wave of anger rising in me.
Was this ever going to end?
I looked up the address the officer gave me. It wasn't far, about a twenty-minute cab ride. I sighed in frustration. So much for my nice dinner. I might as well get this over with. The constant harassment was ruining my only day off.
Half an hour later, I arrived at the precinct.
As soon as I gave my name at the front desk, a man and a woman lunged at me, pointing and shouting.
"So you're the deadbeat bitch from the phone?"
"Officer, arrest her! She should be executed!"
"So young and already a damn criminal. Doing things that'll make her ancestors turn in their graves."
"Scamming people out of two thousand dollars? Are you that desperate?"
An officer quickly stepped in to restrain them.
"What do you think you're doing? This is a police station, not your living room. If you're so tough, why did you call us in the first place?"
The man gritted his teeth, clearly defiant. "Officer, you can't just let her off the hook because she's pretty. She's a con artist."
The officer shot him a glare. "You want to wear this uniform and do my job?"
Seeing the officer was serious, the man reluctantly shut his mouth.
The officer gestured for me to sit down. "Alright, tell me what happened."
I calmly and objectively recounted the events of the day.
The officer looked at the couple, his expression one of sheer disbelief. "This is what you call getting defrauded out of two thousand dollars?"
The man's face flushed with anger. "Of course it is! That two thousand dollars is ill-gotten gains, isn't it? If she doesn't give it back, that's illegal possession of property. In other words, it's fraud."
The officer frowned. "You're the ones who made the mistake. What does that have to do with her? Besides, she already told you to contact customer service or go to a store to get the money back. How is that illegal possession?"
The woman started arguing illogically. "I did call them! But the customer service agent said because the amount was so large, we had to go to a store in person with our IDs to handle it. And even then, it would take at least a week to get the refund. It took one second for my money to go in, why should it take a week to come out?"
"Even if that's the case, what does it have to do with this young woman?" the officer reasoned. "If you have a problem, take it up with the phone company."
"The credit went to her number! All she has to do is transfer the money to me, and it's over. Why make it so complicated? It would save everyone a lot of trouble. We've been arguing about this all day. I think she just wants to keep the money for herself. So young, and already so rotten."
The officer shook his head, looking exhausted. "It saves you trouble, but it dumps all the risk onto her. You send two thousand dollars of credit to someone on a ten-dollar-a-month plan? If it were me, I'd suspect you were trying to launder money."
The woman shot the officer a dirty look and then plopped down in the chair across from me.
"Are you going to transfer the money or not?" she demanded.
4
I couldn't help it; I rolled my eyes.
"Ma'am, have I not been clear enough? I don't want your money, but I'm not going to be your scapegoat either. If you want your money back, I will cooperate with the phone company through the proper channels. But there is absolutely no way I am paying for your mistake by transferring money directly to your account."
The man's eyes were dark with malice. He glared at me, his jaw clenched.
"Fine. You just wait. I swear you'll regret every word you said today."
I looked at the officer. "Does that count as a threat?"
The officer's voice was stern. "Rick, what do you think you're doing? Do you want me to detain you right now?"
So the man's name was Rick. The woman who'd made the mistake was Brenda.
Rick sneered. "Forget it. If you cops can't solve this, we'll just leave."
The officers face was grim, but he said nothing.
The woman taunted them as they left. "What, we can't withdraw our complaint now? Are you going to arrest us for that?"
The officer just shook his head wearily.
"Well, we won't trouble you any longer. We're leaving."
As Brenda reached the door, she muttered just loud enough for everyone to hear, "I always heard the cops these days were useless. I guess it's true. We shouldn't have even bothered coming."
Her words left every officer in the room with a thunderous expression.
After they left, I said my goodbyes to the police as well.
I checked my phone when I got outside. It was already nine o'clock.
I took a cab back to my neighborhood and stopped at my favorite noodle shop. On the walk home, I had the unsettling feeling that someone was following me. But when I turned around, the street behind me was empty.
I figured the day's events had just left me on edge.
Normally, I would go for a run around my complex in the evenings to clear my head, but after the day I'd had, I just wanted to go home and sleep.
I collapsed onto my beanbag chair. Vaguely, I heard the doors of the neighboring apartments opening and closing.
A moment later, there was a knock on my door.
Thinking it was the building manager making their rounds, I opened it without a second thought.
Rick was standing there.
He took advantage of my shock, lunging forward and grabbing me by the throat.
"You bitch. I finally found you. I'm going to ask you one last time. Are you going to transfer me the money or not?"
From six in the morning to nine at night. Fifteen hours. My one day of rest, completely ruined.
And the police at the station had made it perfectly clear.
How could they be so dense?
I shoved him back with all my strength. "Are you insane? You'll get your two thousand dollars back in a week! Who's the desperate one here?"
Brenda slapped me hard across the face.
"Think you're tough, huh? All you had to do was transfer the money, and this would all be over. But you had to make it difficult. I guess you just like getting hurt."
I staggered back, clutching my cheek, my entire body trembling with rage.
Tears welled in my eyes as I choked out, "What right do you have to hit me? You're the one who made the mistake. I didn't ask you to send me anything. Why should I have to pay for your stupidity?"
Rick sneered. "The credit went to your number. That means you owe me the money. I'm doing you a favor by letting you pay me back."
He pulled out his phone and brought up a payment QR code.
"Send me the money now. Otherwise, starting tomorrow, I'm charging interest. A hundred bucks a day. You're short a single penny, and I'll break your legs."
"In your dreams," I sobbed, fumbling for my own phone. "911? I'm being attacked. They're threatening me. My address is"
Enraged, Rick grabbed a ceramic flowerpot from my neighbor's doorway and smashed it over my head.
The world exploded in a shower of ceramic and dirt.
A curtain of crimson fell over my eyes.
My neighbor, hearing the commotion, rushed out of his apartment.
"What are you doing? Is this a home invasion?"
His shout brought other neighbors out into the hall. The men from the other apartments didn't hesitate; they tackled Rick and pinned him to the ground.
"Call 911! Now! Tell them someone is trying to commit murder!"
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