“Boy, you almost did something really dumb,” I chastised myself when I logged off my computer one day last week.

I thought of all the people I read or hear about who fall for the grandparent scams or the one that goes something like, “We’re the FBI, and your account has been hacked. Withdraw the rest of your money, put it in a shoebox, and we’ll come and get it and keep it safe for you.”

How could anyone not have heard about these scams, I‘ve wondered. They’re all over the news. And then I, too, almost fell for one ― a fake job offer.

I hadn’t read much about employment scams because, stupidly, I never thought I’d run into one. I just wanted one or two more part-time clients for my freelance writing business, and the Indeed job board frequently had some possibilities. Also, I had just deleted two early career positions to shave a few years off my age after seeing the suggestion in a magazine. So when I skimmed the subject lines of my incoming email that morning and saw a positive-sounding email about a position, my only thought was that revising my resume had worked. And so quickly!

I received confirmation messages whenever I applied to gigs, so I didn’t pay much attention to the subject line until I realised — thought — an actual company was getting back to me. I had been looking at part-time copy editing and proofreading jobs, and voila! a health care company was interested in my qualifications and just wanted me to take a proofreading test.

The business name used was that of an actual company, but I had applied to so many health systems over the previous months that I didn’t think to check further into job titles at the company or email addresses, for example. I was tired of hunting for work, so I was multitasking that morning and not paying enough attention.

When I opened the email for the job, I met “Caroline,” a woman from HR who gave me the test and said she wanted to meet over Teams. No alarm bells rang. I use Teams all the time. I took the test, and later that afternoon she got back to me and reported I passed with flying colours. I didn’t find it as difficult as one I had taken for another health system — which I didn’t pass. Most of the questions were general and easy, like, “Why is proofreading so important when it comes to health system material?” I convinced myself that was an OK question, like the company might have wanted to know if candidates realised patients may be reading life-threatening medical directions, for example.

The HR woman then launched into more information, including about the company culture and benefits, and even sent me information on the latter and asked me to sign the form to indicate I’d read it and then send it back. I did send it, but not before I questioned her on the statement about full-time work, reminding her I wanted the part-time role also advertised. I asked to see the job post again — I couldn’t find it on Indeed anymore — and she said it had been taken down. Much later, I realised there likely had been no job post for this scam position.

“About the full-time reference … everyone has to work on staff for the first three months,’’ she said.

“After that you can request a different arrangement. You’ll also start with five days of training, paid, of course,” she added.

Then she returned to spouting information, such as how my skills fit the job perfectly and that she’d introduce me to the supervisor I’d report to before we were done. She praised my experience again, and I complained to my husband that the process was taking too long. He asked, “Are you sure it’s not a scam?” I shot him a look that meant I was too smart to fall for that.

On the second day of my onboarding, the woman asked if I had a certain model Mac, with very specific specifications, and at least six types of software I’d be using.

“No,” I told her, and I levelled with her. “I don’t think the job is for me. I don’t use a Mac, I don’t know how, and I’m not familiar with any of the software you mentioned.”

“That’s OK,” she answered. “You’ll learn it all in training. You might want to look at some of the tools tonight before tomorrow’s training.”

“Wow, it starts right away?” I wondered. I wasn’t crazy about that.

“Now, we’ll have our vendors send you all this, and we’ll send you a check to pay them,” Caroline wrote.

BINGO. That’s a hallmark of many scams.

Now it all fell into place. I went back and checked the email from which she had written me a few times: caroline@healthcarecompanyus.com. (I’ve changed the name of the actual company.) The “US” on the end was a big clue that this was a scam. Then I looked more closely at her name and the supposed supervisor’s name. Caroline Brown and Linda Smith. Another big mistake on their part, using such generic names (except if you were oblivious, like me). Their names hadn’t even registered initially. My stomach dropped. I checked LinkedIn.

“Uh, Caroline, neither you nor Linda are on LinkedIn,” I interrupted.

She took a minute to answer. “Oh, I wiped everything from LinkedIn when my husband died,” she said.

“No … any top HR person and a supervisor at a big health company are going to have a profile on LinkedIn,” I responded, letting her know I was on to her. I stopped communicating with her after that.

At that point the grammar in her text messages changed and someone with poor English took over. The new scammer offered me a signing bonus of $600 and said I’d receive an email the next morning with information on the items I’d be receiving along with strict instructions on how to deposit the paycheque to pay for them. A “paycheque” to pay for items made no sense. I deleted everything related to the scam, starting with what they said was their Teams account.

I had broken some cardinal rules I would find on the internet about employment scams and some that I realised myself. A few of these are:

• Do not meet on Teams or in a chat room or the like. Get a valid company phone number.
• Make sure you see the hiring manager’s face and talk to the person and hear their voice.
• Check the person’s profile on LinkedIn.
• Do not give banking or other personal information until you are further along in the hiring process and it makes sense to do so.
• Be wary of excessive praise.
• Never accept a check to pay for items you need for a job.
• If something feels odd, trust your gut.

I emailed media relations at the real health care company and also an executive there that I found on LinkedIn. I thought they might want to know about these people and take it further, if possible. No one wrote back. I contacted Indeed as well, and an employee there emailed me and offered suggestions. The one that stood out was to call the police if I had lost money. Thank goodness I hadn’t. For as much as my ego was bruised, I can take solace in that.

These scammers groomed me for the better part of two days. I can count even more red flags in our conversations, but I would rather not rehash everything else I overlooked. It’s embarrassing. For example, remember the “Indeed Job Invite” subject line I mentioned? I seem to recall an exclamation point at the end of “Invite.” What actual company would include an exclamation point in such a message or even use that phrase? I can’t believe I breezed past it. And any mail should have come from the actual health care company.

I try not to beat myself up too much over this incident. I’m a perfect example of how people can be vulnerable in this economy, especially if they’re in a rapidly shrinking field (such as journalism, mine) or if they’re at an age where they’re worried about age discrimination.

Still, I admit it, I felt stupid after escaping the con artists. Initially I thought I could never tell anyone about what I had done, and I was sure I would not want to write about it. Then I threw caution to the wind and thought, “What the heck. It happened, and I learned several lessons (like pay more attention when it comes to job hunting — duh).”

Because of my experience, I’m a little more humble about the truism “everyone makes mistakes.” Now that I’ve walked in the shoes of job hunters caught, or almost caught, in a scammer’s web, I better understand how someone can go down this path, besides the reasons I’ve already listed. The desire to work at home — or to continue to work at home when companies are calling people back to the office — can be a big one. Or, surely there is a good number of people who’d give anything to own their own business or be their own boss, as some of the scammers advertise. People who find themselves in a situation like this are not stupid. They are human, with human desires that have a big pull. Maybe my story can help others recognise this, also.