Sad Patterns

     Among the things that are saddest about being what I am is my inability to turn certain mental functions on and off. Sometimes that makes me wonder if I’m authentically human, or more like a device that has various settings. Think of a rotary switch with several detents – “Slow,” “Medium,” “Fast,” “Self-Destruct” – one of which is selected by an unseen operator.

     One of those settings is surely “Maximum Gullibility.”

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     Among the fundamental operations of the intellect, pattern recognition is vital. He who can’t detect patterns and make use of them in his reasoning is a stunted creature. He has difficulty in learning; he’s almost impossible to teach. But imagine that he – let’s call him Fran, purely for convenience in reference – can recognize patterns, but only when his rotary switch is set to “Pattern Recognition ON.” Only then do the patterns in human behavior become visible to him.

     Fran’s been gulled several times. Moreover, the pattern that was used to get into his wallet was always the same:

1. Initial encounter with Jane, a genial-seeming person;
2. Exchange of basic information (i.e., name, age, location, occupation, marital status, kids, pets);
3. The wind-up:
   1. Jane and Fran have a pleasant conversation about some shared interest;
   2. Jane compliments Fran’s intelligence, character, and personality;
   3. Conversation continues, usually with more intimate details being exchanged.
4. The pitch:
   1. Jane mentions a personal need or a charity with which she’s associated;
   2. She stresses, gently, that the need is immediate;
   3. She waits for Fran to agree to donate;
   4. She provides a website or a PayPal account to which the funds should go;
   5. What follows has several variants:
      1. Strange URLs;
      2. Weird-seeming PayPal accounts that don’t function normally;
      3. “Gift cards” are often suggested.
5. The umpire’s call: Depending on the “Pattern Recognition” setting:
   1. Fran either reaches for his wallet; (“Yerrr out!”)
   2. Or he recognizes the pattern and walks away. (“Take your base.”)

     If Fran fails to recognize the pattern, he’ll be gulled. If he does recognize it, he’ll be safe for the present. But everything depends on that “Pattern Recognition” setting. There’s no use in being a genius if that switch is in the OFF position.

     Some wind-ups are long and subtle; others are quick and crude. Some pitches are laced with honey and cinnamon; others are appallingly blunt. I remember one seemingly nice woman who tried to get $30,000 out of me. That was high enough to trigger my Self-Protection circuit.

     But the subject here is the pattern and recognizing it when it’s in progress. We think fish to be low and mindless creatures because they see the bait but not the hook. How much higher a creature is a man who doesn’t sense the pattern outlined above?

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     The reason for this diatribe, of course, is that another professional fleecemeister tried her wiles on me just yesterday. Her wind-up was gorgeous. Her pitch was heartrending. But it didn’t quite nick the corner of the plate, and I didn’t swing. The charity’s front man made a fatal mistake: he spoke of a rather high “minimum” for donating via PayPal “because of transaction costs.” That raised a red flag. Another red flag popped up when the clown suggested that I buy an iTunes or Steam gift card instead. The third, “full count” flag popped when he gave me an alternate PayPal account name that looked very much like a personal account and requested a screenshot “to confirm the donation.” The fourth flag was when he said “Please complete the process within 30 to 60 minutes.” “Take your base, Fran.”

     For once, I didn’t miss the giveaways. However, I criticize myself for not recognizing the wind-up. She was too complimentary, too effusive about my exemplary qualities. I mean, we’d been acquainted for a day and a half; how could she have known about my chiseled good looks, my extraordinary brilliance, my sterling character, or my record-setting sexual prowess?

     Well, it’s been said that there’s no fool like an old fool. I suppose I qualify. But as I’ve written more than once, technological developments and characterological trends have destroyed the high-trust society that made America what it was at its height. Refusing to trust and suppressing the generous impulse have become mandatory for self-protection. Illustrations abound.

     Enjoy your Columbus Day.