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July 26, 2003 In this age of high taxation, low interest rates and widespread unemployment, bargain hunting for quality merchandise at less than retail prices has become a game nearly as popular as Nintendo and XBox. But be forewarned: Internet con artists abound, and they have no scruples when it comes to separating you from your money. Please allow me to cite an example: Having just become fascinated with digital photography via a no-frills, credit-card sized, picture-taking cutie, I decided to upgrade to a 4-megapixel beauty of renowned reputation and moderate price-tag. This baby retails for $500. However, by running a Google search, it soon became apparent that many online vendors offer it at prices varying upwards from $400. Then, lo-and-behold, up pops an advertisement quoting the unbelievable price of $364--just what I had been hoping to find. I immediately completed the order form and clicked on the submit button. Within moments an e-mail confirmation of the order appeared in my Inbox. It was a little unusual in that it instructed me to phone the vendor to let him know that I indeed was the buyer who had placed the order. The wording was something like, "To expedite filling your order, call us at this 800 number as soon as possible." Did I smell a rat? No. Should I have smelled a rat? Yes! Without aforethought, I obediently dialed the number. After a series of menus and mediocre elevator music, an enthusiastic young male voice came on the line and graciously offered to assist me. I announced directly that the purpose of my call was to confirm the order I had placed with his company within the past twenty minutes. Expecting him to make a brief inquiry concerning my billing and shipping addresses, and perhaps ask for the last four digits of my credit card number, I was prepared to quickly hang up, and get on with the business of the day. Instead, what ensued caught me off-guard and took me aback. The guy was loquacious--I mean, like, he had diarrhea of the mouth. He launched into a monologue about how I would need, in addition to the camera, an extended-life battery and a one-hour quick-charger to go with it. Since I hadn't yet researched prices on accessories, I said, "Naw, I don't think so." Now let me tell you, this kid has been well-trained not to take no for an answer. As I continued to resist his brow-beating attack, the price of the battery and charger began to drop in increments. Each time, of course, he had to "consult with his manager" to see what he could do for me. Finally, when he offered battery and charger for a combined price of "only" $149.95, I relented and said OK. What the heck, I reasoned, eventually I will have use for a spare battery and charger. Why not buy them now, and save the cost of shipping and handling on a second order later on. Besides, it was getting close to martini time, and darn it! I had to go to the bathroom. As I eagerly anticipated hanging up for a second time, "the mouth" now raised his voice an octave, and insisted that my purchase would not be complete until I had invested in an extended five-year warranty. "No!" I said (I'd already forgotten that the word no is not in his vocabulary). He assured me I would have future regrets should I fail to take advantage of this peace-of-mind insurance policy at $30/year. Well, that was the regular price, but seeing as how I was a first-time customer, he could let me have it for $15/year. "NO!" I repeated. He persisted. After several consultations with the mythical manager, the added peace-of-mind was going to cost me a mere $8/year. I steadfastly resisted the hook. Ahh! Relief at last. Thank you; goodbye. During the boiler-room onslaught I had failed to add up the total charge to my credit card. Fortunately, I kept notes. When I had the presence-of-mind to double-check those notes a few hours later, I discovered the con artist had sneaked an additional $20--over and above the price of the camera, the battery and charger, and the originally quoted shipping and handling--into the final charge to my card. My face began to feel feverish, and my pulse-rate suddenly accelerated. Let's face it: I still wanted the camera, and the price was the best I had seen. Still, common sense told me I shouldn't have bought the extra battery and a charger without first shopping around for price. So--I sent an e-mail explaining that I'd changed my mind, and all I wanted the vendor to send me was the camera. Period. That assuaged my feelings during cocktail-dinner hour, and into the evening. Guess what! I woke up from a sound sleep at 2 o'clock this morning, totally ticked off and fighting mad. I got on the computer and sent another e-mail to the vendor. This time I said, "After giving the matter serious thought, I have decided to cancel my order #blah-blah-blah that I placed with you yesterday." Then, in no uncertain terms, I spelled out why I had reached my decision to cancel. Also, I instructed the vendor to purge my credit card information from his database. I will check my account balance online over the next several days. In the event the merchandise is shipped in spite of my cancellation, I will refuse the parcel when UPS delivers it. Then all I need to be concerned about is unraveling the mess on my credit card account. Had I only been more vigilant in the first place, I could have spared myself much potential grief. This time, after many repetitions, I have learned my lesson well. You can do yourself an enormous favor by benefiting from my experience. It is, after all, such a simple lesson: caveat emptor--let the buyer beware. ------------ Email Warren H. Wilson: iq138@msn.com Comment on this column in the forum. 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