Trust Me

The charming rogue con artist is a common archetype in literature and movies as in The Lady Eve, The Flim-Flam Man, Catch Me If You Can, or for that matter (arguably) The Odyssey. What all these have in common is good-humored sympathy for the con artist. I have to assume the writers of such scripts and books have never been seriously victimized by one of these people. I say “seriously” because we all have been victimized by them, sometimes in large ways, sometimes in small. As psychologist Maria Konnikova points out in her book The Confidence Game: Why We Fall for It ... Every Time, the most tempting targets are those who are confident in their own skepticism: “You can’t fool me.” True, they may be unlikely to fall for random phone scams (e.g. the classic call from the “Sheriff’s office” informing you that you missed jury duty but can pay your fine over the phone rather than face arrest) but that very self-confidence makes them vulnerable to more sophisticated swindlers.

When caught, con artists often justify their actions by being dismissive of interpersonal morality as subjective and arbitrary, but at bottom the essence of conventional morality is not difficult to understand nor is it especially mutable: don’t initiate force or commit fraud. In other words, you can defend yourself when assaulted and you can trade, but the traded goods should be what you say they are and the money should be real. It’s that simple, and it is the basis for all civil society. Con artists know this better than anyone, which is why they get such a thrill out of violating the “fraud” injunction.

What motivates these people? Unsurprisingly, status, sex, and money loom large, but more important than just money is that it is your money. Taking it from you is a game that they take great satisfaction in winning; it proves their superiority over you. The Spielberg movie Catch Me If You Can was based on the book of the same name by Frank Abagnale, a convicted con man who made millions from passing phony and kited checks around the US and Europe while posing as a Pan Am first officer, a doctor, and even an FBI agent. He was so convincing that the Houston police chief commented, “Frank Abagnale could write a check on toilet paper, drawn on the Confederate States Treasury, sign it ‘U.R. Hooked’ and cash it in any bank in town, using a Hong Kong driver’s license for identification.” Given Abagnale’s history, what he writes about himself in his book also should be treated cautiously, but he seems (on this occasion) to be telling the truth when he writes, “Right and wrong are not factors, nor are consequences. These people look on crime as a game, and the goal is not just the loot; it’s the success of the venture that counts. Of course, if the booty is bountiful, that’s nice, too.” Abagnale is currently a security consultant for banks and other financial institutions.

By the way, a short story of my own features a con artist as an antagonist whom I hope I didn’t make too appealing.: The Great Gaffe .

A disregard of consequences is one of the most puzzling characteristics of swindlers, whether small-time short change artists or multimillion dollar Ponzi schemers – Bernie Madoff’s $65 billion scheme was unusual only in its scale. Their criminal activities are always unsustainable in the long run, but few of the perpetrators quit when they are ahead and simply retire to a Costa Rican beach house. The ongoing short-term pleasures of winning seem to outweigh other considerations.

Is there any way to spot these people in general company? Not really. Konnikova mentions that all of them score high in the so-called “dark triad” of traits that is so common among chronic criminals of all types: Machiavellianism, narcissism, and psychopathy. Yet these traits are also common among people successful in business and politics. (Apparently dark triad folks who do think of consequences make the rational – not moral – decision to keep their activities legal.) They typically have charm, which should never be mistaken for sympathy. (It is often said that psychopaths don’t have empathy. That is not strictly true. Being able to gauge what you are feeling is central to their tactics. They just don’t care, so what they lack is sympathy.) Con artists play on people’s hopes, fears, and ambitions, so Konnikova recommends using the Third Party test to get some perspective: if you overheard this offer being made to your neighbor, would you be skeptical of it? If the answer is yes, take a step back. It is not a foolproof method of protecting yourself but it will help.

A story told by Abagnale is very revealing about how con artists think. He had opened a bank account in Philadelphia with a worthless check for $17,000. However, he had found a trick with the routing numbers on the check that would keep it tied up in the banking system (but not immediately rejected) for longer than the standard three day waiting period before he could draw against his new account. Carefully timing his next move, he flew down to Florida (for free, posing as an airline first officer), rented a Rolls Royce, and parked in front of a local bank. He told the bank manager that he needed a $15,000 cashier’s check in order to make a deposit that afternoon to secure a real estate deal with competitive offers but that his own bank had no local branches – it had to be a bank check or cashier’s check. He offered to pay the Florida bank with a personal check. She called his bank to check his balance, which was reported to her as $17,000. She said, “Tell you what, Frank Adams, [his alias of the day], I’ll take your check if you’ll come to a party I’m having tonight. I’m short of handsome and charming men.” So, he got a cashier’s check payable to cash for $15,000. He writes, “I cashed the check the next morning, returned the Rolls-Royce, and caught a plane for San Diego. I reflected on the woman and her party several times during the flight and nearly laughed out loud when I was struck with one thought. I wondered what her reaction would be when she learned she had treated me to two parties on the same day, and the one had been a real cash ball.”

I suspect she didn’t laugh out loud. I’ve encountered my share of notable swindlers over the years – beyond the everyday phone and email scammers. For many years I was a real estate broker, and the largish sums involved in that business attracted the breed to the door. Making a “good faith” deposit into the brokerage’s trust account in conjunction with an offer, but then withdrawing the offer and asking for the deposit back before the first check had a chance to clear was a minor stratagem for which I fortunately didn’t ever fall. Sometimes the schemers were much more ambitious. All of the ones I encountered had girlfriends, boyfriends, or spouses; looking at expensive houses was a cost-free but effective way of playing the big shot in front of them and raising their hopes. I doubt any of those relationships ended well. Con artists do love, but not you; they love your money.

Daisy Chainsaw – Love Your Money