

Costly non-existent conferences
ORGANISERS of “scamferences” don’t just want to make money from innocent academics who book rooms at non-existent hotels (9 June). Guy Cox writes that sometimes the aim seems to be a bit more sinister: “I signed up for one in Florida, which promised that my air fare and hotel would be paid, and my visa would be arranged. So the form asked for full details of my passport.”
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This would of course be prime identity-theft material, and it reminds us that the proposal from our hypothetical academic “Jo De Selby of Dalkey University, Argentina” to present a paper entitled “Hermeneutics of innovation in the panopticon” was eagerly accepted by the organisers of the “Climate Change Volunteer Conference 2012” (18 August). We wrote to the host venue, the “Royal Eco Hotel” – whose location in the real world is a shoe shop not far from London’s Berkeley Square – asking about a reservation.
The response, headed “Royal Eco Hotel”, offered a “Classic Room” for £99 per night – for central London, a bargain! It said the hotel only accepts cash or payment through wire transfer services such as Western Union or MoneyGram, and asked us to “forward a scan copy” of a transfer slip itemising the fee.
We asked around among acquaintances who do such money transfers, and they reckon that, armed with such a copy, a scammer could attempt to collect the money anywhere in the world – especially at a money office staffed by a covert co-conspirator.
So we wrote back politely asking instead for the hotel’s International Bank Account Number, so we could make an online payment in the now-usual way. We were utterly unsurprised to receive no response.
We were, however, subsequently startled to receive an email the day after the conference would have finished, had it existed, saying we were “entitled to the sum of £5500” in refund of our expenses and inviting us to send scans showing all the payments we had made.
We began to feel the loopiness of these scammers was getting boring and decided it was time to hand the evidence to the professionals.
Normal channels at the Metropolitan Police could only open an investigation if we had actually lost money. So we have asked the Met’s press office to forward it to an interested officer. We await a response.
The English translation on the sign that Martin Hollywood saw on the Great Wall of China says helpfully, but without a map: “You are here”
The Coop welcomes quantum people
WHEN people want to join UK retail organisation by filling in a form online, Rosy Reynolds notes, “it is all very friendly and routine until you reach the security section”.
This states that when members manage their account online or phone the Coop with a query, they will be asked one of a list of security questions, such as “Place of birth” and “Your first school”. Applicants for membership are asked to “complete these now” and are warned: “For your own personal security, please ensure you use different responses to those on other sites.”
“It appears,” says Rosy, “that only quantum people who were born in more than one place and attended more than one first school are welcome.”
SEMIOEUGENEIA was the name we gave to excessively polite signs (8 September). We’re not sure if the photo Doug Cross sends us is an example of this or of a similar phenomenon, the excessively helpful sign. It shows two adjoining plate-glass doors at an estate agent’s premises in Ulverston, Cumbria, UK.
The door on the left has a large sign bearing an arrow pointing right and the words “Please use the other door”. The door to the right has a sign with the words “This one is the other door”.
We’re reminded of the classic announcement by the driver of an underground train in London:
Driver: “Please mind the closing doors.”
The doors close… and then reopen.
Driver: “Passengers are reminded that the big red slidey things on the side of the train are called ‘the doors’. Let’s try it again, shall we? Please stand clear of the doors.”
“HEARING test”, begins a sign that Robin McKellar spotted on a clinic door in Ontario, Canada: “Please wait until you are called in.” He wonders whether the clinic has devised a simple and cheap replacement for the standard hearing test: if you’re still waiting tomorrow, you fail.
FINALLY, Jonathan Colvin noticed a competition advert on the carton of Just Milk that he was making drinks with. He scanned it and sent it to us. It announces: “Win a cake in a mug* every 5 mins”. The small print underneath says “*cake not included”.
“This,” Jonathan says, “has to be the most bizarre way of giving away mugs I have ever encountered.”