already had enough pitfalls, and I sure didn’t want Ruby coming home to the scene of the crime while the crime was taking place.
Social engineering exploits a weakness in one of humanity’s greatest strengths: our inherent desire and ability to trust. I don’t particularly enjoy lying to people, and what I was doing filled me with remorse. At least my intentions were noble, so I could justify my actions. That dollop of justification was all I needed to take those first awkward steps across the line of the law. I was a criminal as soon as I made my first call, and I did so thinking, I’m doing this for Ruby.
I pressed buttons so that my call would be routed to a living, breathing human being.
“Thank you for calling UniSol Health. How may I provide you with exceptional customer service?”
I wanted to say to the chipper-sounding UniSol rep, “Could you just give me the account number of a customer whose insurance will cover the full cost of Verbilifide?” But Social engineering requires a bit more subtlety, so instead I lied and said, “My name is Greg Johnson, and I’m calling to check on a prescription status.”
According to my game logs, Greg Johnson is an avid player of One World. If he realized that he’d spent well over two hundred hours chasing away virtual zombies while building a town out of make-believe bricks, he might opt for fewer CPU cycles and more time spent with real people. But I’m not here to judge Greg. I’m trying to use him. Greg represented the latest call I made pretending to be someone I’m not. He was next on my list of potential candidates who might have UniSol health insurance that would save my wife. According to the birth date Greg entered when he registered for my game, he’ll turn thirty-three this October. Assuming he didn’t enter bogus data, it’s close enough to my age. Good enough for my purposes.
My phone-spoofing program made the rep think Greg—aka me—was calling her from a Wisconsin area code. I had checked my log, confirming that I hadn’t made any phone calls from Wisconsin yet. Heck, I’d never even been to Wisconsin. Go, Badgers!
“I’d be happy to help you with your prescription status. I just need your account number to get us started.”
I groaned into the phone, feigning embarrassment at my own made-up forgetfulness.
“That’s the problem,” I said with another sigh. “I’m traveling on business, and I left that card at home. I’ve tried my wife—both the house phone and the cell. Even texted her. She’s not getting back to me. But that’s just like her. If she’s not one place, she’s another.”
I didn’t know what I meant by that last bit, “If she’s not one place, she’s another.” However, the point wasn’t to make a lot of sense. The point was to be chatty. Seem friendly. The guard comes down as soon as a rep thinks I’m on her side. I’m not calling to yell or harass. I’m just a regular guy with regular problems, thank you very much. I learned all this by Googling social engineering. The Internet is like a distance learning crime school.
“Well, that’s not a problem, Mr. Johnson,” the rep said. “I can look it up for you. What’s your home address?”
I gave her the address Greg gave me when he registered for my game.
Fingers went tapping. A moment passed. It got real quiet when the rep became confused. Eventually, she came back on the phone and said, “I’m sorry, but we don’t seem to have a customer by that name.”
“Oh, my mistake,” I said, sounding as chipper as she. “I must have the wrong provider. Thanks for your time.”
I hung up before the rep could say good-bye. Time was running short. Ruby would be coming home, and I needed to make more calls. The next five calls yielded the same results as my attempt at being Greg Johnson. I spoofed numbers from Delaware, New Jersey, two from California, and one from Anchorage, because the Michelle Shocked song of the same name came up in my iTunes shuffle. Ruby kept such an eclectic collection of music.
I kept on calling. I got closer on my twenty-fourth call to UniSol Health. William Spader, thanks and praises, was an actual UniSol customer. Unfortunately, Spader wasn’t the ideal customer.
“Could you tell me if this policy covers my wife?” I asked.
“I’m sorry,” the representative said after much finger tapping. “But according to our records, you’re not married.”