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These calls should be slowing down now that India claims they’ve arrested the “ringleaders” but scams are profitable.  All of the techniques used by the “Dude” below are real.  They have a script so why shouldn’t you?  Warning: Language is salty, but it shows how to manage these fucknuts.  Note the broken English.  IRS agents will never ask you to settle over the phone.  They certainly will never ask you to keep them on the phone while you go to a store for iTunes or other pre-paid cards to pay off your debt.  Hang up when they cross one of these many lines.

(I get a call on my cell phone and the V/M claims I need to call the IRS immediately or the file on their desk will move for legal action or some similar bullshit.  So I call back…)

Dude:  Hello this is IRS speaking. How may I help you?

Me:  Iris?  This is me returning your call.

Dude:  Okay, no problem.  Is this the number from which you received the call?

(Some scammers keep a database of phone numbers and names.  If you call back and they can’t find you, they’ll still try to rope you in. NEVER give them any further information about yourself – not your social security number, credit card info, or other contact phone numbers.)

Me:  Yes.  Hey, Iris is an interesting name for a dude.

Dude:  Pardon me?

Me:  I said that “Iris” is an interesting name for a dude.  Is it a nickname?

Dude:  Nono, sir.  This is I.R.S.: Internal Revenue Service.  My name is Officer David George, Badge number (whatever).  You are Jay Smith?

(They give you a badge number to pretend they are legit.)

Me:  Oh.  You’re with the I.R.S.  That’s nice.  I am he, yes.

(confirm some basic info, even though he was wrong.  Add nothing.  Tell them they should already know.  If they challenge you, hang up.)

Dude:  This call is being monitored as you are the target of an online investigation into taxes not being paid for the years 2006 through 2014 and we are calling to ascertain…

Me:  WHOAH!  EIGHT YEARS?!  Holy fuck-monkeys!  HOLY shit-smoke!  That’s fucking unreal!

Dude:  Sir.  Sir.   Sir.  Please calm down. Please stop using the profanities.  Please.  We will resolve the issue…

Me:  You’re GOD DAMNED RIGHT we’ll resolve it.  With a crow bar to the knees, bitch! (gasp) Oh…not you.  My accountant.

Dude:  Sorry?

Me:  Do go on.  You were saying there’s unpaid taxes?

Dude:  Please, do NOT disconnect this call, sir.  As soon as you do, the warrant for your arrest will be activated and police will be dispatched to your location and you will be taken to the courthouse where you will remain for a minimum of six years.  So do not hang…

(Here is where it gets scary.  They threaten you with prison and tell you to stay on the line by any means.  This is the brightest red flag.  Some will tell you not to talk to cashiers or anyone else because you might be turned in to police.  Bullshit.  Stores are on to this scam and will tell you not to buy $5,000 of prepaid cards because they know this scam.)

Me:  Six years in a courthouse?  What the hell, man?  That’s a big fucking backlog.  Usually I’d go to see Earl and get booked, spend some time in a cell catching up with the officers, drinking coffee…

Dude: Yeah.  Yes, sir.  So you are saying at this time your tax issue is not intended but perpetrated by your accountant?

Me:  Fuck yes, Officer Dave!

Dude: Okay, no problem, sir.  The police see this as a criminal matter and you have no choice but to deal with them.  I am here to help you resolve this issue now if you are not guilty of the crimes against you which have been measured.

(They play good cop/bad cop to get you to comply.  Hang up.)

Me:  Whut?

Dude:  Sir?  Are you prepared to move forward with resolving this issue immediately?  Are you prepared to pay the $5,213 today?

Me:  FIVE FUCKING THOUSAND FUCKING DOLLARS?!

Dude:  Okay, no problem, sir.  Hold on and we will tell you every and all things.

Me:  My god damned accountant.  That fucking cuntwrecker Steve Tyler.  I’m going to fuck a hole right through his fucking skull with my 1-Wood.  Officer David, did you know he fucked my ex-wife AND both my adult children?  Daughter AND son?  I’m going to brutalize his word hole and crush his sauce factory with my Harley.

Dude:  (click)

(call number back)

Dude: Hello this is the IRS. How may I help you?

Me:  Office Dave!  We got cut off.  You have to help me.  I want to kill this motherfucker Steve Tyler.

Dude:  Yes, okay. Please hold on.  (after a long pause) Sir?  Are you calming down much now?  We cannot proceed unless you are able to understand the nature of the charges being brought against you.

(To make this sound official and scarier, they will read the “law” at you and demand you stay quiet.  Fuck these guys.)

Dude: Please do not talk as I have to explain the details to you now, okay?

Me:  Probably for the best.  Your English is terrible.

Dude: Okay. Now…

Me:  Like worse than a drunk fucker with a dildo in his mouth.  Seriously.

Dude:  (heh) Okay.  Now…(goes into his script about charges).

Me:  (half-way through, screams) FUCK!!!!!!!!!!

Dude:  Sorry?

Me:  FUCK THAT FUCKING FUCKER FUCK!!!!!!!

Dude: (cops attitude) Now, sir, I instructed you to stay silent while I read you the charges and nature of the conditions under which this transgression is to be being managed.

Me:  Sorry.  I just remembered walking into the kitchen suckin’ on Steve’s crotch goblin.  My god, it was horrible…like one of those online porn videos that pop up while I’m browsing ways to murder an accountant with chemicals and… ohhhh.  Sorry, Officer Dave.  I shouldn’t tell police those things.

Dude:  Sir…

Me:  I’m sorry…it’s been a day.  I am F.I.N.E. fine.   Are you sure you can’t just go after my accountant?  I even know the best place to arrest him in public…

Dude: (sighs) Sir…I must get through the rest of this if you wish to proceed…

Me:  I mean, if I’m looking at, like, a possible 20-30 year prison sentence I may as well go murder the little hippie fuck…maybe strangle him with his scarves or something.  But if it’s just a few thousand, I’ll just pay it and hire someone else to like curb stomp him the next time he’s out trolling for underage prostitutes.

Dude:  One minute, sir.

(not on hold, just a lot of call center muttering and laughing.)

Dude 2:  Hello?

Me:  Yeah, hi.  Who’s this?

(If you challenge them or question details, you may be moved on to a supervisor with higher rank and who will be more intimidating.  They believe you are on the hook and just need a little more persuasion.  Don’t buy it.)

Dude 2:  This is Inspector Jim Smith of the Internal Revenue Service Special Force.  I understand you are giving our officer some trouble.

Me: JIM SMITH!?

Dude 2: Y-yes.

Me: COUSIN!  What the fuck, man!?  It’s Jay!  We emptied the keg at the 1978 Christmas party together!  You got alcohol poisoning and got sent away to boarding school…how is every little thing, spazz?

Dude 2: Listen, look, sir.  You understand this is a serious legal matter, yes?

Me:  Oh.  You gotta play it cool.  Go on.  I remember what you did to the cat, bitch, so don’t lay it on too thick before…

Dude 2: And we don’t want trouble from you, sir.  Right now, there is an arrest warrant authorized and police on their way to come to your house and drag you to courthouse for prison.  Do you want this?

Me: Do I want trouble? (pause) Yeah, sure.

Dude 2: Sorry?

Me:  Yes.  I want you to send the police.  Come along with them.  I want you to do the cavity search personally.

Dude 2: (mutters off to one side) Fugger.  (click.)

(The point of this is to CHALLENGE EVERYTHING.  Tell them you want proof of any certified mail attempts before you pay and you will only pay the IRS directly. Many of these concepts apply to other scams as well.  If someone wants you to wire them money for goods or services, especially if you’re paying a deposit for a windfall… it’s a lie. )

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