My Wednesday about a month ago started so well. I had a job! An amazing job that would pay $300 per week for only seven hours of remote work. My theatre friend had mentioned the offer to me the day before over breakfast. 

She and the other person we were eating with wanted to apply, but couldn’t meet the “student administrative assistant” position’s urgent deadline. But I definitely had at least seven hours per week available. I had also previously communicated with the professor offering the job, so I thought I had a good chance. I spent much of my free time that day putting together my first professional resume and promptly applied.

Wednesday morning, after confirming I would be able to fulfill the duties, I got the job. Upon hearing the news, one of my friends remarked with a tinge of exasperation, “That’s more than I make as an RA.” 

Around 1:30 p.m., I started my first task, which required going to Target or Best Buy to find the prices of three oddly specific devices. I was unsure why I would need this equipment for a remote job where I would do data inputting and scheduling. But I was getting paid, so I didn’t care.

I looked up the devices online but they were not available. The professor told me to go to Target anyway. When I got there, the professor told me to look for an Apple gift card. I loosely connected the gift card to the devices as a way to get easily reimbursed, but didn’t think much of it. 

Target didn’t carry Apple gift cards. I went to CVS, and when I arrived, the professor told me to buy an Apple gift card for $500, for which I would be reimbursed. After transferring some money from my savings account and getting help from the cashier, I found out my driver’s license was required to make the purchase and I would need to go all the way back to my residence hall to get it. 

On the way, I ran into a friend and told him about this weird job where the boss wouldn’t give me instructions until I got to the next location and was potentially asking me to buy a printer that would barely fit in my room. He was entertained, but still I concluded, “I don’t care really, I’m getting paid!”

None of this made sense. At the same time, I thought about how cool this money would be and how it would help me pay my future rent and do something nice with my long-distance partner.

I went back to CVS with my driver’s license and bought the card. The nice cashier assumed it was a gift. I didn’t want to correct her. Following the professor’s direction, I sent a picture of the card, its receipt and its back for documentation. I then bought some bubble tea as a reward for all the good work I did.

It wasn’t until I was walking to a Fossil Free Northwestern bonding jam session that I realized it was a scam. At first I wasn’t sure, but then I froze in place on the sidewalk. It all made sense.

The vague, yet demanding directions. The numerous misspelled words. The professor’s failure to address things that didn’t make sense. The communication all taking place on WhatsApp. The professor not mentioning that we had a connection. The fact that no professor would be working for the “Human Resource Office.” And I had just sent them the access code to a $500 gift card that wasn’t refundable. 

There was even a warning from CVS on the electronic cash register when I was purchasing the gift card saying I might be the victim of a scam and should reconsider my purchase. I felt like crying. 

I later realized more red flags I had previously disregarded. There was no interview. The job description was vague and the offer came from a random Gmail account, even though it was supposedly signed by a Northwestern professor. I felt so dumb. I was completely blinded by that paycheck. Now, I have to wait up to 90 days to see if I can get my money back from the bank. 

When I made it to the jam session and told my friends the story, all I described was the emailed job offer and the two juniors immediately knew it was a scam. But I hadn’t known. And all the people I told about it hadn’t known. 

This is why I am writing something about my experience — to show how someone who has listened to numerous podcasts about scams and has laughed off a number of attempts to scam ki got scammed kisself. There were so many moments for me to realize what was happening, but I didn’t. Considering my busy “And-is-in-my-DNA” schedule and constant need to skim readings to stay on top of my work, it is not a surprise I was dangerously skimming emails and CVS warnings. 

You may read my story and think, “I would never fall for that.” If so, great, but just know, someone who thought the same thing did. 

Stay safe out there!

<3 Jordan 

Jordan Muhammad is a Communication sophomore. Ki can be contacted at [email protected]. If you would like to respond publicly to this op-ed, send a Letter to the Editor to [email protected]. The views expressed in this piece do not necessarily reflect the views of all staff members of The Daily Northwestern.