There used to be four seasons: winter, spring, summer, and fall. Now we’ve added a fifth—scam season—and apparently, it runs year-round. The flowers bloom, the birds sing, and I get a fraudulent invoice from “McAfee” for antivirus software I never bought and never wanted. Again.
Let me back up.
It all started innocently enough. I tried to book a one-way JetBlue flight from Palm Beach to New York City. $147—not bad. I clicked through, filled in all the usual fields (name, email, seat preference, favorite childhood memory), and hit “Pay.”
Oops.
That’s literally what it said: “Oops.” A friendly, lowercase tech-glitch shrug from the algorithmic abyss.
No problem, I thought, I’ll just try again. And that’s when the real magic happened: the fare had leapt $200. That’s right—same flight, new price.
I called JetBlue’s service center (definitely not in Palm Beach), and the representative suggested logging back into the app. Apparently, that resets the price—though not in my favor. Now the ticket was just $100 higher. A bargain!
I eventually reached a supervisor who sounded genuinely sympathetic.
“If you had a confirmation number, I might be able to help.”
“That’s the point. It never confirmed.”
“Exactly.”
That kind of circular logic should come with a seat assignment.
Frustrated, I checked another airline. Jackpot: $170! Economy. I began booking—only to discover that choosing a seat would cost another $102. Want to sit together with your spouse? That’ll be $204. Otherwise, enjoy the scenic wheel bay near the luggage. Want to board before the plane takes off? That’s premium now.
But scam season wasn’t over.
That afternoon, I received an urgent text from “Florida Fast Pass” claiming I had unpaid tolls and would face legal prosecution. Imagine the irony: the real Florida Department of Transportation already has direct access to my bank account. I pay extra to drive on I-95—objectively the most terrifying stretch of pavement in the U.S.—and now scammers want in on the action? Good luck.
And just to round things out, another email arrived from McAfee—my sixth fake invoice. I’ve never had this software, I’ve never paid for it, and I’ve confirmed repeatedly that this is a scam. But the email is still persistent. Honestly, I admire the work ethic.
There’s a fine line these days between a scam and a “legitimate surcharge.” Hidden fees, surprise fare hikes, and messages threatening jail time if I don’t pay $23.70—this is the new normal.
The only place where transparency still exists is in the phishing email subject line:
“URGENT: You’re about to be charged!”
Yes. Yes, I am. One way or another.