overheard; a conversation between two digital-age thieves

[a real life screenplay, if you will]

Sitting in the lobby of a Marriot in DTLA, waiting for housekeeping to finish making up my room — a young twenty-something is situated squarely behind a stately gold plaque which has the words ‘FRONT DESK’ ornately engraved into it. The young woman stares blankly into the distance, tapping her pen rhythmically on her folio. The beat strikes me as somehow familiar, and I catch myself trying to identify it…the Light My Fire intro, perhaps? No…I just happened to have that song stuck in my head from that Uber on the way here… Maybe it’s….

OH MY GOD, will these two assholes shut the f*ck up already?! What could they possibly be talking about that merits this almost cartoonish clandestine affectation in which they are conversing?

I glance over, to see two young men sitting in armchairs in the lobby area, one staring intently at a laptop, the other scanning shiftifly through his surroundings. Fifteen feet away, the twenty-something woman stands behind the front desk, continuing to stare blankly into space.

I close my eyes to carefully tune my ears to their frequency, turn my iphone voice memo app to start recording, gently set it onto the ground, and slide it toward them with my foot. I end up breaking into their conversation mid sentence —

MAN ONE:

“…well, heres the thing….the thing that most people don’t understand. A credit card is basically a chick you’re trying to f*ck. You cant just move in straight for the kill and jam a finger into her snatch, now can you?”

MAN TWO:

“Dude… [nods head toward front desk woman, starts to whisper] She’s literally standing right there. Calm down with all that ‘snatch’ sh*t.”

MAN ONE:

“That bitch? [nods head] She’s probably f*cking deaf dude. Anyway, what I’m saying is you gotta start with an innocent hand on her thigh… maybe a brush of her arm. Establish contact first. Once you’ve established touch with a female, its like the touch no longer becomes as big of a deal, you know what I’m saying? You’re much more likely to be granted access to her tits if you’ve already held her hand or touched her leg for like at least a couple a seconds, provided she hasn’t already blown her rape whistle on ya. She gets used to you… used to your proximity to her, used to the idea of you touching her, right? A little warm up act, ya know?”

MAN TWO:

“Dude PLEASE just focus, I don’t want to be in this f*cking lobby anymore. Are you close?”

MAN ONE:

“Have you ever heard of multi-tasking? I already told you, I’m working on it.”

MAN TWO:

“Okay, but….”

MAN ONE:

“Just listen for a second, man. I’m trying to give you some valuable f*cking knowledge here and I can’t get you to shut the f*ck up for ten seconds. You were the one who told me you wanted to learn, and here I am trying to teach you and…”

MAN TWO:

“Dude, I’m listening, I’m listening. Just please hurry up.”

MAN ONE:

“Miiisterr f*cking impatient. Now I’ve lost my train of thought… oh! What I’m trying to say is they’ve got algorithms, man. The credit card companies. Algorithms up the ass, I’m telling you. And I mean, these companies have got the money to pay the best algorithm writing people on the planet I have to assume, considering they take damn near 2% of every transaction right off the top, plus all the interest, late fees, annual card costs, and so on and so forth, which by the way is again why I’m saying its hardly a bad thing to be like… mildly inconveniencing these people, considering they are themselves shady sh*ts in their own right. [looks intently at computer, hits the enter button] Come on…f*ckin’ load already. Think I’ve got one.”

MAN TWO:

“Cool, so we’re…”

MAN ONE:

“…NOT YET! F*CK you keep making me forget my train of thought…what was I saying….”

MAN TWO:

“F*ckme okay fine…something about algorithms”

MAN ONE:

“Oh yeah, so they make mad money dude. Like billions and billions. And while I dont know what a top notch algorithm costs these days, you can rest assured that theyve got ’em and they’ve got alot of them. And what these so called algorithms do is find inconsistencies in card charges. Inconsistencies in that like why is this eighty year old broad, who literally only buys…..f*ck, what do old ass people buy, like denture tape…or wait…is it… denture…. glue?”

MAN TWO:

“My grandma likes those strawerry foil wrapped hard candies, oh and butterscotch, and you know those ones that…”

MAN ONE:

“..Jesus Christ did I just ask you for a detailed description of your grandmas personal preferences of hard candy? I give zero f*cks; the point is, whether it be arthritis medication, diabetic compression socks, or what the f*ck ever else…this old dustbag whose only monthly charges are when she buys denture sh*t and adult diapers at pharmacies, why is this broad all of a sudden spending $200 at an auto parts store which is nowhere near her zip code? No, no, the algorithms are going to flag that sh*t, no way that shit is getting through. Its too much, too quick, too strange of a transaction. But, say there was a little warm up to granny’s spending. Say she maybe hits a starbucks, or a fed-ex, which I dont know why but I’m telling you dude these f*cking algorithms must love fedex because I never get a decline after a small fedex purchase..”

MAN TWO:

“…I’m begging you, ppplease stop talking about this sh*t right now. We’re about to try to check in and you’re sitting here (whispers) talking about fraud like she isn’t standing right f*cking there.”

MAN ONE:

“You are tripping out. Listen to me. You. Are. Tripping. Out. You’re a tripper. She can’t hear us, and she isn’t paying attention even if she could.”

MAN TWO:

“Dude I’m walking out if you don’t wrap this sh*t up.”

MAN ONE:

“Walk out, see if I care, but anyways… point being a little fedex purchase somehow like green lights the card you’re about to hit. Its like these algorithms think [switches to dumb clean cut, white guy voice] ‘yes, its a little far from their normal purchase areas, but who frauds a fedex? No no, it must be legitimate, they are likely on business’ [drops back to normal voice] or some sh*t like that. So point being, is warm the f*cking thing up a bit. You know what I’m saying?”

MAN TWO:

“Okay, so like hit a gas station next to a mall, then a Starbucks in the mall, and THEN go hit the Cartier, Louie V, etceter….”

MAN ONE:

“..LOUIS VUITTON?! No, not Louis Vuitton YOU F*CKING IDIOT, because you don’t NEED anything from Louis Vuitton, even if you could. Dude. This sh*t is about getting by, I don’t know what kind of glamorous sh*t you think this is, but I’m telling you what its about. Getting. By. Not making stupid needless high value purchases for no reason that are likely to get you thrown into a f*cking cell. LOOK AT ME, do I look like I am living the high life to you? Did you miss the fact that there is not a f*cking….I dont know Patrick Phellip or what the f*ck ever, on my wrist?!”

MAN TWO:

“..holy sh*t, calm down. Ya, ya, I get it, I was just using it as an example.”

MAN ONE:

“Well, it was a bad f*cking example. Right now you are nobody to the cops. Nobody. What have you been charged with? Petty theft? Posession of a controlled substance? So has everybody else. Plus, I know mommy and daddy got those charges dropped for you with Mr. Lawyer Man.”

MAN TWO:

“f*ck off dude”

MAN ONE:

“No, I’m dead serious. You want to be somebody, Mr. Big Man? You want to get on their radar? Start running high value purchases like that and you’ll see. Cops think, ‘well f*ck that, I don't have a Rolex…hell if I’m gonna let some piece of sh*t fraudster get away wearing one…’ — matter of fact, start doing that sh*t and I will make sure I am so f*cking far away from you that…”

MAN TWO:

“…I said I get it.”

MAN ONE:

“Well I guess we will just have to see if you do.” [Long Pause]

“…But anyways, I’m not saying you need to go off and start writing a logical f*cking narrative of purchases just to warm up a card, am I? I’m just saying that you are about to hit a person’s card with a fraudulent transaction in an area they arent likely to be anywhere near, and if you jump in for the kill right off the bat you are going to KILL THIS F*CKING CARD, MAN…and I’m going to be pissed off because I already told you its a serious gift I’m giving you right here. This thing could be worth twenty thousand if you use it right…”

MAN TWO:

“Twenty K? Ya right..”

MAN ONE:

“Dude, doubt me again. Call me a liar again. I f*ckinggg dare you.”

MAN TWO:

“…I didnt call you a liar…I just meant..”

MAN ONE:

“Ya ya — I know what you meant. Just listen; I’m saying, hit it right, which means low, slow, steady and consistent, and it could last for weeks.”

[At this moment, Man One starts to pull out a small, square, black peice of electronic looking equipment, almost like a large external hard drive.. which he plugs into the usb port on his laptop. My later google searches alerted me to the fact that this had been what’s called a ‘MSR magnetic strip writer/re-writer’, a piece of equipment which can write numbers onto a credit card strip. More than that, it can delete numbers off of a credit card strip, and then rewrite over those numbers. One can only imagine the uses of being able to write someone elses account numbers onto your own credit card…everything looks legit, even if they glance at your ID, but the charge just flies off elsewhere, onto someone else’s credit card statement. Or even for making fake credit cards from the ground up… Though, just off my own layman’s thinking, I don’t know how this would help you get around chip-dip technology used for most purchases these days. After considering that further, I came to consider that it seemed like some hotels/restaurants/random places still are swiping transactions these days, though…]

“Okay, got it. Now I just need one of your cards.”

MAN TWO:

“Come on dude, please. Not here…its not necess…”

MAN ONE:

[whisper yelling]

“…SHES. NOT. PAYING. ATTENTION.”

MAN TWO:

“F*CK. F*cking fine, here. Just do it quick.”

[pulls out his wallet, hands over a card of unknown variety]

MAN ONE:

[Snatches the card out of his hand]

“…Anyways, as I was saying, some of these idiots don’t check their statement but once a month. Some never even check, and the shit is just on auto-bill. I mean this card right here is probably owned by some pompous dickhead who probably purposely never checks his statement because his wife just charges everything under the sun and it just depresses him to see it, and god knows his broad doesnt look at it, I mean sure, the bitch is probably hot, but do you really think she can even read a credit card statement? Doubtful. So yeah, for all we know, this sh*t is on autobill”

[Swipes the card through the reader/writer]

“..aaand we get rid of your broke ass account…”

[Swipes it through the reader/writer again]

“…and throw on Mr…”

[looks back up at the screen]

“…Kirkpatrick’s account, which is HOPEFULLY in good standing with a high limit if you’re lucky. AND… we’re done.”

[hands the card back]

“…But, point I’m making is that the only person who could f*ck this up for you is YOU. Making stupid f*cking purchases that are obviously going to get flagged by the f*cking algorithms, man. Understand?! Okay, lets go.”

[Starts to pack up his laptop, nods his head towards the front desk]

“You’re on.”

MAN TWO:

“You can’t be serious. You expect me to…”

MAN ONE:

“Yep. Showtime, pal.”

MAN TWO:

“Oh my f*ck, this is so stupid. But f*ck it, whatever — lets do it”

[I watch as the two of them walk towards the front desk counter. The woman smiles. They smile back. Something about a suite is discussed. The card is handed over, with a flash of something inside his wallet; likely an ID. In less than two minutes, the woman whisks them away towards the elevator.]

I sit there, stunned. Did I really just see what I thought I had seen? I wondered if I should tell someone about what just happened. But, truthfully, part of me agreed with what the greasy little fucks had been saying. To hell with the credit card companies. And, we all have fraud protection today on our cards anyways. A thirty second phone call, and any fraudulent transactions are removed. Though, then I thought about the literal fucking nightmare of retyping in your rush-overnighted credit card’s newly pressed numbers into all your auto billing accounts. Your Amazon, Uber, Dollar Shave Club, whatever else… But, that wasn’t enough of a reason to report the slimy duo.

Plus, have you ever called the cops? Two hours of your life, taken up, answering questions, giving a statement, which probably will never even be followed up on. And what if they actually went to court? Would I be called as a witness? I was busy enough without dropping more unnecessary sh*t onto my plate. What I had was circumstantial most likely, I told myself. I didn’t really have the first idea what that meant, but I remembered reading it in the last sh*tty John Grisham book I had flicked through…

I realized the real reason the situation contiued to rankle was that the little greaseballs had gotten into a room before I had. Was I not here before them? Had I not been sitting here for TWO F*CKING HOURS now?! Whatever. I laughed internally as I told myself that I probably should have sprung for a suite, and then brought my attention back to the newspaper in my hands…