I Joined a Fake Job Scam to See How Deep the Rabbit Hole Went

In the age of the internet, many people—especially millennials and older Gen Z—dream of landing that perfect remote job. Work from anywhere! Beach in Bali? Sure. Grandma’s basement? Also yes. The job I nearly fell for was a classic: the Fake Job Scam (aka the "Too Good to Be True Job That Your Gut Already Knew Was Sketchy" scam). It looked so sweet, paid so well, I almost gave Ben my today's notice! (Just kidding…)

It all started with a simple text: “Hi.”

Now, when someone opens a convo with “Hi” and no context, that’s your first red flag. But curious (or possibly bored), I replied, “Hello.” Enter Anlyssa, who claimed to be from a real recruiting agency—Express Employment Professionals.

She told me I didn’t need to provide my name, Social Security number, or anything really—just confirm I was over 25 and eligible to work. For research purposes (and a tiny bit of fun), I said “Sure,” and the scam officially began.

Soon, I got a message via WhatsApp, an app owned by Meta (Facebook) it’s great for calling family abroad and being targeted by international scams. I was introduced to Jenny, my point of contact. She said my new “job” was to optimize these apps and they were very vague on how I needed to do it. Scammers often stay vague on purpose, hoping you’re too polite—or too confused to ask questions.

I was promised $5,500/month. That’s when I turned to Ben and said, “Adios!” (Kidding again!!!)

To make myself a more attractive scam target, I told them I was older, retired, and just looking to keep busy. They sent me a link to a phony software site, attempting to pose as a legitimate tech company.

Once I created my bogus account, the website immediately hit me with a pop-up like a used car salesman on commission: “Register now and get this bonus for your work! Receive 20% extra on your payment of USDT!”

Now, I’m not a crypto expert, but I googled USDT—a cryptocurrency called Tether that tracks the U.S. dollar. Scammers love crypto because it's basically the Wild West of finance—untraceable and irreversible. Once they get your money, poof! They’re gone.

The next day, Jenny got back to me and walked me through "training." All I had to do was click the start button 45 times and then hit “Next” when a pop-up said I made money. Riveting work. After a few rounds, I’d “made” $450 and hit a “combo” that sent my training account into the negative. Jenny told me to contact customer support. They replied instantly. (Meanwhile, I’ve been on hold with actual companies for what feels like decades—but I digress.)

Support gave me a crypto wallet address basically a 40-character string of random letters and numbers. Most of us can’t remember our Netflix passwords, but sure, I’ll manually type this mess. Just to be a nuisance, I sent them a screenshot instead, forcing them to type it out. Petty? Maybe. Satisfying? Absolutely.

Jenny “paid” the $450 deficit, saying I’d be reimbursed as I completed more tasks. I went back to my account and earned 86 USDT after doing all 45 tasks. Then came the next pitch: to unlock the next tier, I had to send $14 to reach 100 USDT and qualify.

And that’s where I pulled the plug.

I wasn’t about to give them a penny. From what I’d gathered, every new “tier” required a new deposit, first $100, then $500, $2,000, and eventually a whopping $5,000. At that point, they’d vanish with your money.

Oh, and one more red flag? Jenny asked for the money via CashApp. Now, CashApp is legit great for splitting brunch or paying your dog walker but when your “boss” is asking for money via a personal payment app? That’s suspicious with a capital S-C-A-M.

So I called her out:

 “Why are you scamming people?”

 She hit me with the ol’ gaslight special:

 “Are you joking? You don’t want to spend $14 to make $150 later?”

 Then claimed she wasn’t a scammer, and I was making a huge mistake. Uh-huh.