Jon Simonds writes a series called Basically Brooklyn, which is more about observing life than a particular location. Today's piece happens to take place in Florida.

It's tough enough, being out of work these days. It's even worse when scam artists start preying upon the unemployed by posting want ads, such as the one I found advertising for a chauffeur on an internet job board. Apparently, a CEO, arriving from California wanted a dependable individual to pick them up at the airport on a Monday morning and drop them off on Friday afternoon. The compensation for the near week was a flat $700 dollars. It sounded like a fairly good in-between-jobs gig, and so, I sent off a resume. I also sent a cover letter asking them why they don't seek the services of a local limo company.

I was surprised to find a response, some days later, stating that they had found limo companies to be, "somewhat undependable." They wanted a driver that would sit at a location for as long as needed, for the agreed upon flat weekly fee, as they had several meeting scheduled and didn't want to wait around for a driver answering another call. I was also told to expect a Fed-Ex envelope with all the itinerary. I responded by thanking them for the opportunity, while adding how much I looked forward to our meeting.

Some two weeks later, Fed-Ex arrived. I figured it was the itinerary, but what I found instead was a huge surprise. I found a check made out to me, for the sum of 3,103 dollars. I looked at the check and googled Union Bank of California. The bank was for real. I ran the name of the company, Pro Group Inc. and found a web-site telling me all about their business. Of course, anybody can put up a website nowadays, so I wasn't sure it really meant anything. Besides. my parents raised me wrong. They taught me to be honest and I certainly hadn't done anything to merit that kind of paycheck. I shut off my I-pod, right in the middle of Don Henley's, "Dirty Laundry" and headed straight for my bank.

I bank at GTE and so headed for the mall. I like GTE, in spite of the fact that unemployment is leading to mounting financial troubles. They are so friendly. You walk through the doors on any given day and they treat you like family. You feel rich at GTE, even when faced with probable bankruptcy and so I smiled and waved back at the tellers that smiled and waved at me, as I walked through the doors. I asked to speak to the branch manager and I was led into her office where I showed her the check. She ran the paper through a machine and informed me that it was real, there was an account at the Union Bank of California. I told her I suspected a scam. She suggested I deposit the check with a ten-day hold, to protect myself.

"If anything further develops," she said, "before you meet with this person, come right back here and we'll go to the Sheriff's Office across the street."

The very next day I received an e-mail requesting a Western Union Transfer of $2,401 dollars to an address in Montana. I went back to the friendly folks at GTE and was told to go straight to the Sheriff's Office. These folks didn't know I was on to them, yet and just maybe we could catch some crooks in a sting. So, I crossed 9th Street and walked through the doors of Manatee's Finest. This is where the real crime begins.

It is roughly 11:30 Friday morning and there are two officers at the front desk. A blonde, chunky female and an African American male. The female does all the talking. She wants to know what I want and when I explain the bank manger from across the street advised me to come in here she rightfully asks why. I begin to explain everything, but she's in a hurry to get back to whatever she was doing before I walked in, and so, cuts me off to ask if a crime has been committed
"Well. No."
"Then you have no business here. There's nothing I can do."
The other officer isn't saying anything. He is just looking at me.
"I'd like to point out an internet scam and maybe-"
She cuts me off again. "That's not our jurisdiction. That's the FBI."
I nod.
"Do you have their phone number?"
She looks it up and jots it down on a scrap of paper.
"May I call them?"
"There's no public phones here."
"Can you call them and give me the phone?"
"You need to leave," she tells me.

I stared at her, for a minute. I wondered if I did something wrong and then decided to go back to the bank. Once again, I waved and smiled at all the tellers that waved and smiled at me as I walked through the doors. The branch manager asked what happened and I told her they gave me the number of the FBI. I asked if I could call. She pointed to the one phone for customers, but informed me that it was only good for calling other branches.

"Could you call the FBI?" I asked. "I can talk to them."
"I can't do that," she said. "That's the only phone customers are allowed to use."
I looked at the phone on her desk, in her office.
"Maybe you should go to the Bradenton Police Department," she suggested.
I didn't wave to anybody when I walked out the door.

I headed for the Bradenton Police Department, where I met two fine officer's tucked safely behind their bulletproof glass and explained to them all about job hunting and CEO's and they wanted to see all the evidence. I opened my bag and pulled out all of my documents. They looked them over, nodded a lot and asked a few more questions. They then explained that a crime hadn't yet occurred and this probably fell under federal jurisdiction, anyway. I nodded and put away all my documents.

"May I ask a question? If I knew of a group that was tunneling there way into a bank from across the street, but they were only half way across, am I supposed to wait until they reach the bank before I call the police? I mean, there hasn't been a crime committed."

The officer looked at me with a serious face and said, "that would depend upon whether or not he owned the property under which he was digging."
I was relieved to find a grin on his face. He suggested I call the FBI. "It looks like a federal matter."
"Well," I said. "Can I do that?"
"There's no pay phones in the building."
"Well, can you let me use a phone to call the FBI?"
"I can't do that." He said. "I can't just let you in."
"Is there some city code that forbids the use of phones when trying to contact the FBI?"
His partner suggested I go to the DA's office. "You have an awful lot of evidence there. You ought to go to the DA's office."

I sighed and headed for the DA's office. I don't have a cell phone and I couldn't find a pay phone although I can't say the thought of actually looking for one ever really crossed my mind.

I haven't used a pay phone in years and any pay-phone I have ever attempted to use, usually didn't work. So, I don't know that I actually looked for a pay phone. I do know the DA's office on the sixth floor of the Manatee County Building, has a receptionist that deserves a raise, because you are not "seeing, talking to or even meeting a DA unless you have evidence that has bearing on a case that is being prosecuted right now!" She said all this in one breath.

"May I use a phone to call the FBI?" I asked. "They have an 800 number. It won't cost a dime."
She picked up the phone, but that was only because she was answering it, or, maybe calling the sheriff's department to have me arrested. I considered this, for a moment and the fact that I was entitled to make a phone call, but I've never been arrested before and decided now wasn't a good time to begin.

"I'm leaving," I said and she hung up the phone. "But I'd like to ask one little question, before I go."
"What?"
"Can I see the memorandum that forbids contact with the FBI?"

She picked up the phone again, but I didn't wait to see if it was because someone was on the other line. There are a lot of ways people are making money today. Don't allow yourself to become one of those ways. And if you live in Manatee County and ever need the FBI to report any suspicious activity; e-mail them. It's a little cheaper than the drive to St. Petersburg.

Does this bring up any thoughts? If so, send them to: I want to say something.