It was a sunny Friday afternoon, and I was at the office, happily finishing up a new client ad campaign when my desk phone rang.
Caller ID indicated that the IRS was calling from 800 829-1040. Not knowing why the Internal Revenue Service would be on the phone but having nothing to hide, I picked up the phone, identified myself, and answered with a relatively cheerful “Good afternoon.”
A woman with a heavy Indian accent who sounded like she was reading from a poorly written script announced, “Good afternoon, sir. I am Special Agent Margaretta Washington of the IRS, the Internal Revenues Services. I am calling to inform you that an arrest warrant has been issue by the courthouse against your name.”
“You’re from the IRS, and you’re calling about an arrest warrant?”
The lady, who sounded like her name should have been something like Aaradhya Balakrishnan, said, “If you had a paper and pen you will write down my badge number IRS5545409, and the courthouse complaint which has been issued against your name is 320953.”
“Courthouse complaint?” I asked. “What is a courthouse complaint?”
“Do not interrupt me,” she said peevishly. “You have not pay to the IRS four thousand eight hundred and twenty-three dollar for taxes, legal fees, and charge. You are on a federally monitor line right now that is monitor by the IRS and the attorney general and the Homeland Security.”
While I couldn’t believe that this poor woman could possibly think that anyone would be so stupid as to fall for her obvious line of bull, I had to find out just how far she would go to scam me.
So I said, “What complaint are you talking about and why do you claim that I owe the IRS four thousand eight hundred and twenty-three dollars? The IRS has never sent me any correspondence about unpaid taxes.”
Without hesitation, she said, “I am calling to reform you that the IRS audit on your tax 2011 to 2015 and to let you know that a criminally federal complaint has been issue against your name by the courthouse. A arrest warrant in your name is issue at this point of time. The local federal sheriff are on the way to handcuff you and put you in the jail for five year.”
I couldn’t believe the extent to which this terrible woman was trying to scare me so I had to say, “A federal sheriff is coming to arrest me for something I know nothing about?”
“I told you,” she said, not bothering to hide her irritation with me, “that you are on a federally monitor line that is monitor by the IRS and the attorney general and Homeland Security so you have to tell me the truth or the courthouse will send you to the jail under your name for twenty year immediate. And no bail whatsoever. You cannot interrupt me.”
At the risk of making her angrier, I said, “My sentence has been increased from five years to twenty years without the benefit of a trial or bail just because I asked about a federal sheriff?”
She hesitated for a long moment, and I was beginning to think she’d hung up when she sighed impatiently and continued with, “You will be arrest and taken to the jail by the federal sheriff with no bail by the courthouse! Everything you have will be confiscate by the courthouse, including your home, your car, your driver license, your bank account, your credit card, and all your cash. You will be blackball by the IRS, and you will receive no government benefit for five year!”
I had to say something, so I said, “You’re telling me that a so-called federal sheriff will lock me up, confiscate everything I have, and blackball me without the benefit of due process? Do you not understand that the Constitution guarantees due process for all Americans?”
“Do not interrupt me,” she said, clearly aggravated. “When I am finish, I will give you the chance to speak.”
“Good,” I said and then, just to bug her, I asked, “Are you finished?”
“No,” she said. “The sheriff will coming to you door in five minute if I don’t cancel the arrest warrants right away. You are loose everything and be taken to the jails by the sheriff with no bail by the courthouse. This is your last chance to resolve this problem, and I will suspend the warrants. Do you want to resolvment this issue or do you want be arrested and be taken to the jail in handcuff?”
“It sounds like you’re saying that my life is over,” I said. “So, I have to ask, are you finished now?”
“Yes,” she said.
“Yes, you’re finished, or yes, my life is over?” I said politely.
“If you want to resolve it today,” she snapped, “you will follow my protocol. I will tell you exactly what to do, but you must not tell anyone, not your friend or families or anyone. You must not hang up on this lines. If you do, I will not suspend the warrant, and the sheriff will be knocking to your door to arrest you within five minute. Do you want to resolve it today?”
I still had to find out how far this heartless woman would go to scam me, so I asked, “What would it take to resolve it, as you say, today?”
Without answering my question, she asked, “What is your zip codes?”
“Why do you want to know my zip code? If you’re the IRS, you should know everything there is to know about me.”
“What is your zip codes?”
“Nine one seven five-oh,” I said. “Why?”
“Because the arrest warrant issued in your name by the courthouse allows you to pay at the federal store,” she grumbled, “like the WalMart or the Walgreen’s for iTunes cards. Do you have the seven-eleven near?”
“iTunes cards? You’re telling me that the IRS only accepts iTunes cards? Are you serious?”
She hesitated, and I could hear her speaking softly to someone in a foreign language I could not understand. Thirty seconds or so passed before she said, “If you want to resolve, you will buy the iTunes cards and give me the numbers. If you don’t wanted to resolve, I will release the warrant, and the federal sheriff will be at your door right now.”
“Come on now,” I said. “If I owed forty-eight hundred and twenty-three dollars to the IRS, I would have received a detailed letter with ample time to respond. And, if I did owe outstanding taxes, I could simply pay online through the IRS website. I wouldn’t have to waste my time buying iTunes cards and giving you the numbers.”
“Go to your door, and the federal sheriff will be waiting with the handcuff,” she growled. “Have a nicest time in the jail!”
With that, the lady hung up and so did I.
I then went to the office front door.
No one was there.