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The Shadows of Conmen

JITENDRA MOHAN PANT
TRUE STORY
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Submitted to Contest #4 in response to the prompt: 'You break the one unbreakable rule. What happens next? '

In the realm of life's bitter lessons, I, too, have danced with the devil known as con men. With each encounter, my resolve to not fall prey to their deceit grew stronger, yet the cycle of trust and betrayal persisted. It was a carousel of lessons, each spin revealing more about the artistry of deception.

Con men, it seemed, lurked in every corner of life. Whether they adorned the attire of street hustlers or donned the polished veneer of successful businessmen, their common trait was a profound understanding of human psychology. They could be the ordinary faces on the street or the celebrated figures adorning the pages of magazines and gracing television screens as business leaders of the year.

My initiation into this world of deceit began during my early days in entrepreneurship. Struggling to establish my management consultancy, I stumbled upon a classified ad in the Hindustan Times. The ad, placed by "India Buying House" (IBH), to confuse ordinary folks with India Book House, a legal entity, sought management consultants for various services. Their repeated advertisements built credibility, and I, like countless others, fell into their web of deception.

The IBH office, located in Pushp Vihar, Saket, presented a facade of professionalism. A shamiana welcomed eager aspirants, and the promise of business success drew in a multitude. The trap was set, and many, including myself, succumbed to the allure of a 3% commission for the agency and 97% mine on each consultancy invoice, and the dream of a thriving consultancy.

As weeks passed, the harsh reality unfolded. The office, once abuzz with anticipation, stood locked. The promised payments, the security deposits, and the lofty dreams of success evaporated. People, both employees and businessmen, were left with empty pockets and shattered aspirations.

The conman's craftiness lay in preying on the vulnerable. They struck when dreams were at their peak, and trust flowed freely. The property agent in the location was made Director Finance and rental payments were postponed; the advertisements were through an ad agency on three months credit terms; the refreshments were provided on credit by the local shop; the salaries were deferred on excuses like shipment delayed, letter of credit pending from bank, loan about to come, and few payments delayed. After three months having collected crores through advance security deposits ranging from Rs 20000 to a lakh, IBH vanished, leaving a trail of broken dreams and unanswered questions. Legal notices were futile and were returned as address not found, and the elusive owners remained unknown with faulty address and no contact. The conman's business model was simple: collect small sums of money from individuals, vanish before the storm, and repeat the model elsewhere.

Having been conned once, I steeled my inner self, resolving not to get conned the second time. Some months passed, and as part of my professional journey as an entrepreneur, I encountered a suave and successful businessman, weaving tales of grandeur. Claiming to be an MBA from Wharton and a Tata Administrative Services product, he sought my services for manpower placement. I was elated at this windfall as I would get one month’s salary per candidate as my fee, and with 100 candidates at an average Rs 20,000 per month, this would come to Rs 20 lakhs, a good sum for my nascent consultancy firm. He asked for my database and biodatas of candidates for positions of telemarketers, saleswomen, and so forth. He perused them and left, saying he would revert to me soon, and we would do good business together.

Swift realization followed my initial awe. The person had memorized telephone numbers, given fake addresses, and deceitful stories which all crumbled after he left my office, and I came out of my stupor. He had mesmerized me for those brief moments and got me into believing everything that he said.

After some time, I started getting calls from girls whose biodata he had seen, checking whether they should go to the hotel he had invited them for the final interview. Since all the details he had given about his phone numbers and checked-in hotel were wrong, and as he had not noted or done any serious discussion with me, I knew I was getting entangled onto fishy waters. I advised the girls not to go, and fortunately, they heeded my advice.

I managed being conned a second time in less than six months and escaped from what could have been a recruitment sex scandal.

Although no harm was done, the incident served as a stark reminder of the lurking dangers.

Conmen, it seems, possess an uncanny ability to spot vulnerabilities. Their schemes range from promising astronomical returns to executing Ponzi schemes. The teak tree plantation and market survey scams, while eventually caught, left small investors duped of their savings.

While I've become wiser and more discerning, I acknowledge that the battle against conmen is ongoing. The schemes and promises made by both state and private entities sometimes mirror the tactics of these tricksters. Intentions may be masked under the guise of betterment, but the result often resembles a con job.

Yet, despite the scars of deception, I maintain a belief in the innate goodness of people. This outlook, akin to assuming all are good, has served me well. Although not foolproof, my error in judgment has diminished. In the intricate dance between trust and betrayal, my discerning powers have evolved to a six sigma performance, and I navigate the delicate balance between scepticism and optimism.

While embarking on a train journey in Mandor Express to Jodhpur, sitting in the first-class cabin with a fellow companion with a few minutes for the train to depart from New Delhi station, a pretty lady entered our cabin and started crying that her husband had been robbed and she needed money to get back home to Kerala. She said her husband was standing on the platform and was so shattered that he did not want to seek help. We consoled her and asked what we could do to help her. She said Rs 20,000 would be a great help, and we could do a UPI transfer, and she gave her phone number and took ours promising to return the money as soon as they reached Kerala. We had tears in our eyes listening to her story and as she was pretty we thought she could not be lying. As a good Samaritan, we transferred the money, she thanked us profusely, repeating her commitment with an enchanting smile to do a bank transfer to us within 72 hours of arriving at Thiruvananthapuram and got out of the train. I escorted her, and as she got down, I did not see her husband around and before I could scream, the train moved, and she disappeared into the crowd waving her hand at us, the innocence in her face still giving us hope that she may be telling the truth.

When sense returned to us and the train was nearing Delhi cantonment, we found her phone number did not exist, the address was wrong and so was her story.

Conned a third time, a hat trick in six months!

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