The Scammers Missed Me — Apparently My Geek Squad Membership Renewed Again

I was starting to get worried.

It had been an entire week since someone invited me to a Facebook event announcing that I had supposedly purchased something I didn't purchase.

Was I no longer desirable to scammers?

Had they moved on?

Did Karen, Taiba, Callie, and Princess Manahil have a group chat where they decided I wasn't worth the effort?

Thankfully, my fears were put to rest today.

They're back.

This afternoon, I received another Facebook event invitation. This one came from the wonderfully named “Hxer Ahver.”

Hxer has invited me to:

“Payment Confirmation: $439.99 Auto-Renewal for Geek Squad Tech Support…”

Oh good.

Geek Squad again.

My Computer Is Apparently VERY Protected

Last week, Princess Manahil informed me that I had supposedly renewed my Geek Squad protection.

Now Hxer Ahver says I've done it again.

At this point, my computer should be the most protected in North America.

I'm expecting Geek Squad employees to start physically guarding it.

One by the monitor.

One near the keyboard.

Another stationed outside my house.

For $439.99, somebody better be watching the perimeter.

There is, of course, one tiny problem:

I didn't buy this.

Just like I didn't buy the Bitcoin.

Just like I didn't authorize the mystery subscription.

Just like I didn't purchase the previous Geek Squad protection.

My imaginary credit card has apparently been having an incredible summer.

And Once Again, I'm Invited to Attend

The brilliance of this particular scam remains my favorite part.

It's being delivered as a Facebook event invitation.

That means underneath a message claiming I've been charged $439.99, Facebook politely asks:

“Tell them if you can make it.”

And then gives me three options:

Going

Maybe

Can't Go

I appreciate the flexibility.

After reviewing my calendar, however, I'm going to have to select:

Can't Go.

I'd love to attend my $439.99 fraudulent Geek Squad auto-renewal, but unfortunately I have plans that afternoon.

Maybe next year.

Meta Is Still Warning Me

Just like the previous scam invitations, there's a warning sitting right at the top:

“Meta did not send this event invitation. Please be cautious when clicking on links or providing personal information.”

That's probably worth reading.

The clever part of this scam is that the notification itself can arrive through Facebook's event system. That gives the garbage in the invitation a little borrowed legitimacy.

You see a familiar notification.

You see Facebook.

You see a large dollar amount.

You see “Payment Confirmation.”

And the scammer hopes you panic before stopping to ask the most obvious question:

Why in the hell is Geek Squad notifying me about a $439.99 auto-renewal through a Facebook event invitation?

Geek Squad isn't throwing me a party.

The Scam Social Calendar Continues

So let's update the guest list.

Previously, I had:

Karen: Bitcoin purchase.

Taiba: Another Bitcoin purchase.

Callie: Mystery $398.99 subscription.

Princess Manahil: Geek Squad protection.

And now:

Hxer Ahver: Another $439.99 Geek Squad renewal.

I'm beginning to see a pattern.

The names change.

The dollar amounts change.

The supposed purchases change.

But the objective remains remarkably similar: make the recipient believe money has been charged, create urgency, and get them to react before they think.

That's why I don't use the contact information contained in suspicious messages.

If a message says there's a charge on one of my accounts, I'll independently open the company's official app or website and check the account myself.

No panic.

No mystery phone numbers.

No handing over account information.

Please don't attend Facebook events celebrating purchases I didn't make.

See You at the Next One

At this point, I don't think this is over.

We've done Bitcoin.

We've done subscriptions.

We've done Geek Squad twice.

I'm curious what I'll apparently purchase next.

A $799 Norton subscription?

A $1,200 iPhone?

Extended warranty coverage for a car I don't own?

Whatever it is, I have only one request for the scammers:

Please check my calendar first.

I'm getting really busy declining all these invitations.

Day 66: The Kinder, Gentler Reset Continues

It's Day 66.

Yesterday, I tried something different.

A kinder, gentler reset.

No lengthy email. No dissertation about corporate culture. No recap of the previous 65 days.

I emailed Jacob Chavis and asked for two Nextdoor Insights reports:

The Home Insurance Insights study I've been requesting, and the newly published Financial Advising and Investing study.

Short. Polite. Direct.

Now I'm wondering something beyond my own experience:

Is anyone actually able to obtain the detailed studies referenced on the Nextdoor Blog or LinkedIn?

Nextdoor's latest Insights post directs readers who want the complete report and detailed data to contact Jacob.

So I'd like to hear from someone who has done it.

Did you request one? Did you receive it? How long did it take?

That comparison matters as I examine whether I'm experiencing terrible communication or being treated differently.

Meanwhile, Back at NXDR...

The broader market slid yesterday, and NXDR followed suit.

The stock had been making gains following Nextdoor's Q2 results and was approaching its two-year highs. That enthusiasm appears, at least for now, to have been short-lived.

As a shareholder, I want NXDR to succeed. That's what makes my feedback counterintuitive: financially, I'm rooting for the company I'm criticizing.

I've also noticed E*TRADE now provides additional visibility into options activity, giving investors another interesting data point to watch.

And Then There's the Legal Question

Finding an attorney interested in evaluating a potential discrimination claim isn't as simple as announcing, "Lawyer wanted!"

There's a process.

An attorney would need to determine whether the facts support a viable claim, which law applies, what damages are available, and whether others have experienced comparable treatment.

The same applies to a potential class action. There needs to be an identifiable class with common legal and factual issues.

I'm exploring those questions.

Nextdoor also has substantial cash on hand. Using the figures I've been reviewing—approximately $377.97 million in cash against $27.70 million in debt—that's roughly $350 million net of debt.

But that's not a pot of money automatically available to plaintiffs or attorneys. Any recovery would require an actual viable claim followed by a settlement or judgment.

So I'm not counting imaginary settlement checks or contingency fees.

First comes the simpler experiment.

I sent the polite email.

I asked for the studies Nextdoor tells people they can request.

Now let's see what happens.

And I'd particularly like to hear from anyone who has successfully requested and received a Nextdoor Insights report.

Day 66. Kinder. Gentler. Still documenting.

The complete timeline is at NielFlamm.com/blog.

Automatic Gratuities? Not on My Next Cruise.

I have a Royal Caribbean cruise planned, paid for, and waiting for me.

On Thursday, October 29, 2026, I’ll board Radiance of the Seas in Tampa. Then it’s a day at sea, a stop in Cozumel, Mexico, another glorious day at sea, and back to Tampa on Monday, November 2.

I love cruising. I love being on the water. I love eating an irresponsible amount of bacon. And I absolutely love people watching.

Put me on a ship with the ocean, bacon, Coke Zero, and a few thousand strangers making questionable vacation decisions, and I'm entertained.

But lately, I've been watching a lot of cruise videos about one surprisingly polarizing subject:

Automatic gratuities.

And I think I've changed my mind about them.

What Exactly Is a Gratuity?

If you haven't cruised before, you pay a cruise fare that includes your cabin, most meals, some beverages, entertainment, and plenty of other things.

Of course, there are upcharges. Want a specialty restaurant? Pay extra. Want a fancy coffee? Pay extra. Want alcohol? Definitely pay extra.

Then there are gratuities.

On my first Royal Caribbean cruise, tipping worked very differently.

Toward the end of the cruise, we were given envelopes. The daily newsletter provided guidance on suggested tip amounts, and passengers put cash into the envelopes and personally handed them to the people who had provided service during the cruise.

Your room attendant.

Your waiter.

Assistant waiter.

Maitre d'.

It was direct. Someone provided you with great service, and you tipped them.

At some point, that system largely disappeared, and automatic gratuities became the norm.

Buy a drink at a bar or by the pool, and an 18% gratuity is already added to the price. You can add even more if you'd like.

Then there's the separate daily automatic gratuity charged to passengers.

The explanation makes some sense: the money isn't just for the employees you see. It's also distributed to people working behind the scenes who contribute to your vacation.

Laundry.

Maintenance.

Food preparation.

Other crew members you may never meet.

These people absolutely contribute to the cruise experience.

But there's one word I keep coming back to:

Gratuity.

I asked The Google for a definition, and it gave me this:

A gratuity is an extra amount of money given to a person who provides a service.

Extra

.

That word matters.

A Video Changed My Thinking

I recently watched a video from an avid cruiser who said he was going to stop adding automatic gratuities.

My initial reaction was basically, Ehhhhhh...

I've actually defended automatic gratuities before.

My normal practice has been to leave the automatic gratuities in place and then tip additional cash to crew members who provide me with great service.

That includes room attendants, servers, bartenders, and even crew members working in the buffet.

If someone takes care of me, I believe in taking care of them.

I'm not looking for an excuse to save a few bucks at the expense of the people working incredibly hard on a cruise ship.

But the cruiser in the video made a point that stuck with me:

Why is it the passenger's responsibility to supplement the compensation of back-of-house employees through something called a gratuity?

And that's where my thinking changed.

Pay Your Employees

If a cruise line needs a certain amount of money per passenger to properly compensate laundry workers, maintenance employees, kitchen staff and other behind-the-scenes crew members, then build that amount into the cruise fare.

Charge me what it actually costs.

Be transparent.

If the cruise needs to cost another $100, $150, or $200 for the company to compensate its employees properly, please include it in the advertised price.

I can then decide whether that cruise is worth that price.

What concerns me is treating what is traditionally understood as a service tip as part of the company's labor cost structure.

I have absolutely no problem with a company making a profit.

Royal Caribbean is a business, not a floating nonprofit with a waterslide.

Make money.

Make lots of money.

Build another gigantic ship with 47 restaurants, 19 pools, and a zip line directly through a Starbucks for all I care.

It's how the money is collected that I'm questioning.

If the automatic gratuity is necessary to compensate employees properly, is it really a gratuity anymore?

Or is it simply part of the cruise fare with a different name?

So I'm Trying Something Different

When I board Radiance of the Seas on October 29, I'm changing my normal routine.

At some point during the cruise, I'm going to go to Guest Services, stand in line—not in line, because I am a New Yorker—and ask to have the automatic gratuities removed.

But I'm not going to stop tipping.

Quite the opposite.

I'm going to bring a bunch of cash.

When someone provides great service, I'm going to tip them directly.

Room attendant? Cash.

Great waiter? Cash.

Bartender? Cash.

Someone at the buffet goes out of their way to help me? Cash.

If you're taking care of me while I'm wandering around a ship eating bacon and staring at the ocean, I want you to know that I appreciated what you did.

The people working behind the scenes deserve to be compensated fairly, too.

I believe their employer should be responsible for making sure that happens.

Maybe It's Time for More Passengers to Question It

I'm curious what other cruisers think about this because I've discovered this topic can get surprisingly heated.

Some passengers consider removing automatic gratuities practically a declaration of war against the crew.

Others argue that cruise lines have successfully shifted responsibility for employee compensation onto passengers while continuing to advertise lower base fares.

I'm moving toward the second camp.

I'll gladly tip.

I'll gladly reward great service.

I'll probably tip more than I would have otherwise.

But I'd rather put the money directly into the hands of the people who made my vacation better and tell them:

Thank you.

And if the cruise line needs additional funds to compensate everyone else properly?

Put it in my fare.

Tell me what the cruise actually costs.

Then let a gratuity actually be a gratuity.

Now I need October 29 to get here.

There is an ocean, a cruise ship, and an unreasonable quantity of bacon waiting for me.

Summit Coffee: A Relaxing Local Stop After Sullivan’s Island

After attending a recovery meeting on Sullivan’s Island, I wasn’t ready to head home. I wanted a locally owned coffee shop where I could write, use Wi-Fi, drink coffee, and have a small bite. Summit Coffee was nearby, open until 4 p.m., and checked all those boxes.

The parking lot is quite small, with one accessible space and perhaps four additional spots. Inside, I counted roughly eight tables and a long four-seat high-top overlooking Ben Sawyer Boulevard. Since I needed an outlet, the high-top was perfect. The air-conditioning was especially welcome on such a brutally hot and humid day.

The shop was clean, and the staff was friendly. This is what I remember a coffee shop being: a comfortable place to hang out, enjoy a drink, eat something small, and relax without trying to be everything to everyone.

I ordered a 16-ounce decaf Americano in a ceramic “stay” mug. It was good and served piping hot, so I let it cool while I worked. The self-service area had Stevia, Sugar in the Raw, stirrers, cup stoppers, and plastic utensils.

I also ordered a Nutella croissant. It was flaky and had just the right amount of Nutella—enough chocolate and hazelnut flavor without being overwhelming. There were a few other small food options. The closest thing to a sandwich was a bacon-and-cheddar biscuit. When I asked whether it contained egg, the answer was, “I imagine so.” Since I strongly dislike eggs—and because ingredient knowledge can matter for allergies and dietary restrictions—I would encourage the staff to become familiar with exactly what each item contains.

A slightly more substantial lunchtime option would also be a welcome addition. Overall, though, Summit Coffee is a super-cool neighborhood spot with good coffee, reliable Wi-Fi, friendly service, and a relaxed atmosphere. I would happily return.

Well, That Was Fast: I Got My First Hinge Match

Remember when I said the Tinder experiment was over and I had moved on to The Hinge?

Remember when I wondered how long it would take before I got a match?

Apparently, the answer was:

Not very long.

I woke up this morning and got a bit of a late start. No dialysis today, so there wasn't an alarm dragging me out of bed at an ungodly hour. I eventually got myself moving, checked my email, and there it was:

“Niel and Kelli, you matched!”

Wait.

WHAT?

I actually matched with someone?

On a dating app?

Already?

I was surprised.

I was amazed.

And against everything I've learned from online dating thus far, I was even a little...

Hopeful.

Her name is Kelli, and she's in Conway, South Carolina.

That's roughly an hour away from me.

Some people might look at that distance and say, “That's kind of far.”

I look at it and say:

I like to drive.

Problem solved.

But First, I Had Stuff to Do

Despite receiving this potentially historic notification, I didn't immediately drop everything and begin crafting the greatest opening line in the history of online dating.

I had things to do.

Also, let's establish something very important:

I don't spit mad game.

There was no:

"Did it hurt when you fell from heaven?"

No carefully researched pickup line.

No ChatGPT-generated Shakespearean sonnet about her eyes.

I eventually opened the conversation with:

“Hello Kelli! How are you coping with the stupid heat and humidity?”

Smooth?

Debatable.

Authentic?

Absolutely.

Because it is stupid hot and humid.

We're in South Carolina in August. You can walk outside for four minutes and somehow need another shower.

So rather than pretending I'm some suave dating-app Casanova, I went with something every person in South Carolina can currently agree upon:

Why is the air wet?

And now...

I wait.

This Is Where the Experiment Gets Interesting

The first hurdle has officially been cleared.

I got a match.

Now we move on to Phase Two of The Hinge Experiment.

Will Kelli respond?

Will we have an actual conversation?

Will we discover we have things in common?

Could there eventually be a drive to Conway—or somewhere in between—to actually meet another human being in person?

Or will the universe continue its recent tradition of using dating apps to teach me valuable lessons about cryptocurrency, WhatsApp, and international investment opportunities?

I don't know.

But right now, I'm choosing optimism.

A real match appeared.

I sent a completely normal message.

She's about an hour away.

I like driving.

And, most importantly, nobody has tried to sell me anything yet.

This is already progress.

Now we wait.

Pray with me, Forest. Pray with me.