Another $399.99 Subscription? Apparently Geek Squad Is Throwing a Facebook Event
I have another expensive subscription I didn’t know about.
And once again, the scammers were thoughtful enough to invite me to a Facebook event to celebrate it.
This email arrived with the subject:
“Jordan Ramirez invited you to Geek Squad Order confirmed: INV#445016.Amount:$399.99”
According to the invitation, I supposedly paid $399.99 for a Geek Squad PC Protection Plan.
There's just one minor problem.
I didn't.
And if this looks familiar, it should.
🚩 Haven't We Seen This Movie Before?
Just recently, I received another Facebook event invitation claiming that $498.99 had been paid for a subscription through my PayPal account.
That one came from “Agnes V. Burden.”
This time we have Jordan Ramirez, Geek Squad, and $399.99.
Different person.
Different company.
Different dollar amount.
But remarkably similar script.
The invitation claims:
“Bill has paid $399.99 for a subscription using your PayPal account from an unknown seller IP.”
Wait.
Bill is back?!
Apparently Bill has access to my imaginary PayPal account and is having quite a shopping spree.
It would be helpful to sit Bill down and discuss boundaries.
🚩 Facebook Is Literally Warning Me
One of my favorite parts is that the warning is sitting right there at the top of the message:
“Meta did not send this event invitation. Please be cautious when clicking on links or providing personal information.”
Thank you, Meta.
Message received.
That's an important distinction because the sender shown in the email is:
Jordan Ramirez <notification@facebookmail.com>
Someone might see the Facebook-related email address and assume the underlying message must be trustworthy.
But the screenshot itself explains what's happening.
Jordan Ramirez invited me to an event.
The suspicious content is contained inside that event invitation.
A legitimate platform delivering a notification doesn't automatically make the content created by another user legitimate.
🎉 What Time Does My Geek Squad Party Start?
The invitation gives me the traditional Facebook choices:
Going
Maybe
Can't Go
Let's see.
Am I going to my imaginary $399.99 Geek Squad subscription celebration?
I'm leaning toward:
Can't Go.
I have plans that evening.
Specifically, not calling the phone number in this message.
🚩 And There It Is: The Phone Number
The message says that if I don't recognize the purchase, I should contact a:
“Resolution Center”
and conveniently provides a phone number.
That's the part that deserves attention.
The scary $399.99 charge gets your attention.
Geek Squad provides a recognizable brand.
PayPal adds a financial component.
And the phone number provides an immediate way to “fix” the problem.
That's exactly when I'd stop.
If I genuinely thought Geek Squad charged me $399.99, I wouldn't call the number supplied in a suspicious Facebook event.
I'd check my PayPal, credit card, and bank accounts independently.
Then, if necessary, I'd independently find the legitimate contact information for Geek Squad or the financial institution involved.
The suspicious message doesn't provide both the problem and the solution.
🚩 “Pay_Pal” Makes Another Appearance
This is another detail I noticed in both messages.
Not PayPal.
Pay_Pal.
The previous $498.99 subscription invitation used essentially the same wording.
Now this one does too.
So let's compare.
Previous message:
$498.99 subscription.
Facebook event invitation.
Claim involving “Pay_Pal.”
Unknown seller IP.
Phone number to call.
Current message:
$399.99 Geek Squad subscription.
Facebook event invitation.
Claim involving “PayPal.”
Unknown seller IP.
Phone number to call.
That's quite a coincidence.
Or perhaps we're looking at variations of the same social-engineering template.
🧠 The Scam Isn't Really About Geek Squad
That's an important point.
The recognizable company name makes the story believable.
Today it's Geek Squad.
Another day it could be PayPal, Norton, McAfee, Amazon, Microsoft, or another familiar brand.
The psychology is what matters.
You see:
$399.99
Your immediate reaction might be:
WHAT DID I BUY?!
Then you see:
“If you do not recognize this purchase, please contact...”
Perfect!
There's a phone number!
And before you've checked whether the transaction actually exists, you're talking to whoever is on the other end.
That's why urgency is so effective.
The message doesn't necessarily need to survive careful analysis.
It just needs to get you to act before you do careful analysis.
🚩 Don't Call the Number to Find Out Whether the Number Is Legitimate
This seems obvious when you say it out loud, but it's worth repeating.
If a suspicious message tells you that something terrible happened and then provides a phone number to fix it:
Don't use the suspicious message to verify the suspicious message.
Go around it.
Open your actual PayPal app.
Check your bank.
Check your credit card.
Go independently to the company's official website.
If there's no $399.99 transaction anywhere, that's important information.
And if there is an unauthorized transaction, contact the financial institution using independently verified information—not the number supplied in the questionable message.
🏡 Don't Be Passive. Be a Good Neighbor.
This is why I keep sharing these.
I recognize the pattern because I've been documenting them.
Someone else might not.
Someone might see Geek Squad, recognize the name, and panic.
Someone might think their spouse or child bought something.
Someone might worry that their PayPal account has been hacked.
And someone might immediately call.
If you see one of these, don't just delete it and move on.
Warn somebody.
Show your parents.
Show your neighbors.
Show the person who always calls you when something weird appears on their computer.
Report suspicious content through the appropriate platform.
Sometimes being a good neighbor is simply saying:
“Don't call that number. Let's check your actual account first.”
Jordan, I'm Going to Have to Decline
So thank you, Jordan Ramirez, for inviting me to the celebration of my imaginary $399.99 Geek Squad subscription.
Unfortunately:
Going? Nope.
Maybe? Still nope.
Can't Go? That's the one.
And apparently I need to have a serious conversation with Bill, because he keeps buying subscriptions with my imaginary PayPal account.
Follow along at NielFlamm.com/blog for more scam emails, suspicious recruiters, questionable vehicle offers, and whatever strange invitation lands in my inbox next.
The Delta Logo Almost Got Me—Until I Asked One Simple Question
I received an email today with the subject:
“Delta survey invitation: brief questions, possible reward”
At first glance, I didn't think much about it.
The Delta logo was nicely displayed in the email. The message addressed me as a “Delta traveler” and said Delta wanted feedback about my passenger experience.
And asked if I'd complete a few quick questions.
I “might be able to receive a reward worth up to $100.”
Okay. A customer survey. I've received plenty of those.
Then my brain finally caught up with my eyes.
✈️ Wait... When Was the Last Time I Flew Delta?
I started thinking about it.
I haven't flown Delta recently.
Actually, I haven't flown Delta in a long time.
I'm talking at least five years.
So why would Delta suddenly want feedback about my passenger experience?
Was I supposed to review the legroom from 2021?
Tell them how the pretzels were half a decade ago?
That's when an email that initially looked routine became a lot more interesting.
🚩 The Logo Isn't the Sender
Here's the part I think is especially important.
I initially viewed the email on my device. It showed the sender as something along the lines of:
Delta Rewards Survey Info
At a glance, that looks plausible.
And on a small screen, the actual email address wasn't immediately visible.
So I clicked on the sender's name to see more information.
And...
BAM.
There it was:
Well, hello there.
That's not what I expected to see under “Delta Rewards Survey Info.”
The email may have a Delta logo.
It may say “Delta traveler.”
It may talk about my “experiences with Delta.”
But the visible sender name and the actual sender address are two very different pieces of information.
That doesn't by itself prove exactly who created the message or what would happen after clicking the survey link. I didn't click the survey, and I'm not going to pretend I know where it ultimately leads.
But it was more than enough for me to stop.
🚩 Then the Rest of the Email Started Looking Different
Once I questioned the sender, other details stood out more.
The email says:
“If you choose to answer this survey, you might be able to receive a reward worth up to $100.”
Might be able to?
Up to $100?
That's a lot of work.
Then there's the big red:
“View the short survey.”
That's the action the email wants me to take.
The logo establishes familiarity.
The survey gives me a reason to click.
The possible $100 reward gives me an incentive.
And the sender name makes it look like I'm dealing with something related to Delta.
But none of that answers my original question:
Why is Delta asking someone who hasn't flown with them in at least five years about his passenger experience?
🧠 Context May Be the Best Scam Detector You Have
This is why recognizing suspicious emails isn't always about finding a misspelled word or a badly designed logo.
Sometimes the biggest red flag is:
The story doesn't make sense.
Your bank sends you something about an account you don't have.
A delivery company contacts you about a package you didn't order.
A recruiter offers you a job you never discussed.
A subscription service sends you a renewal for something you never subscribed to.
Or an airline asks about a passenger experience you haven't had in years.
Before clicking anything, ask:
Does this email make sense in the context of my actual life?
In this case, mine didn't.
🔍 Click the NAME—Not the Link
There's another practical lesson here.
On phones and other devices, email apps often emphasize the display name rather than showing the complete sender address prominently.
That's convenient.
It can also make a questionable message look more legitimate than it is.
If something seems strange, don't click the button in the email.
Instead, inspect the sender information.
In my case, tapping “Delta Rewards Survey Info” exposed the underlying address:
That took a few seconds.
And those few seconds completely changed how I viewed the email.
🏡 Don't Be Passive—Be a Good Neighbor
I've been saying this with the suspicious vehicle listings I've been documenting, and it also applies to email.
If you recognize something suspicious, don't assume everyone else will.
Someone else may see the Delta logo and click.
Someone else may see “reward worth up to $100” and get excited.
Someone else may not think to expand the sender information.
So show them.
Tell your friends and family how to reveal the actual sender address on their devices.
Remind them that a logo is an image—not authentication.
And if you're uncertain about a survey supposedly sent by an airline, bank, retailer, or other company, don't use the email to verify the email. Go independently to the company's official website or app.
Sometimes being a good neighbor means saying:
“Before you click that $100 survey, let's see who actually sent it.”
Because in my case, one tap was all it took.
Delta Rewards Survey Info
became:
And suddenly I wasn't nearly as interested in that $100 reward.
Follow along at NielFlamm.com/blog for more suspicious emails, questionable vehicle offers, recruiting scams, and whatever else decides to show up in my inbox.
41 Days Until Cruise Time: Checked In Emotionally, Still Single Officially
Royal Caribbean has informed me that my cruise is 41 days away and online check-in is available.
Finally, a relationship moving forward.
There it is on my screen: four nights in the Western Caribbean aboard Radiance of the Seas, October 29 through November 2. A balcony cabin on Deck 9. And under “Guests,” a little circle containing my initials: NF.
Naturally Fabulous.
No Fiancée.
Negotiations Failed.
Interpret that however you like.
Last time I checked, the countdown said 50 days. Now it says 41. Nine days have passed, and I’m pleased to report that my vacation planning has progressed from staring at the reservation on my phone to staring at it on a larger screen.
That’s called taking a broader view.
The website offers two buttons: “Plan my cruise” and “Manage reservation.”
I appreciate the confidence. I’m still trying to manage what’s in my refrigerator, but apparently I’m qualified to coordinate an international maritime adventure.
At least the cabin decision is settled: a balcony on Deck 9.
This gives me a private place to drink coffee, watch the ocean, and gaze thoughtfully into the distance as if I’m contemplating something deeper than whether breakfast is still being served.
A balcony also provides the perfect setting for romance. Ocean breeze. Beautiful sunsets. Two people sharing a quiet moment.
Currently, the second person is a chair.
We’re taking things slowly.
Yes, the search for my future ex-wife continues. I’ve secured the scenery, arranged the accommodations, and selected a departure date. At this point, I feel I’ve done more than my share of the relationship planning.
Ideal candidates should enjoy travel, appreciate sarcasm, and understand that “Would you like dessert?” is a logistical question about which dessert, not whether we’re having any.
Meanwhile, I still have the transportation puzzle: a 5 a.m. flight from Charleston to Tampa through Miami, or about seven hours of driving.
The flight requires leaving home around 3:30 a.m., when the only thing I want to connect with is my pillow.
And Miami? I’m trying to get to Tampa. The airline apparently thinks I should preview the rest of Florida first.
Driving remains tempting. I get my own seat, unrestricted access to snacks, and no possibility of my suitcase deciding to spend the weekend somewhere more interesting than I do.
I haven’t made the final call yet. Fortunately, I have 41 days to revisit the same calculations and arrive at the same level of uncertainty.
As for Radiance, yes, she’s an older ship. So what? I’m increasingly fond of things with a little mileage that still know how to have a good time.
I don’t need my ship to be the newest thing afloat. I need a comfortable bed, good food, an ocean view, and a schedule where “do absolutely nothing” is a legitimate afternoon activity.
This cruise also includes Halloween, which opens up some costume possibilities.
I could go as a well-rested man.
Or someone who packed appropriately.
Or a guy whose future ex-wife actually showed up.
Some costumes require more imagination than others.
After this, there’s MSC in January and Utopia of the Seas out of Port Canaveral in April. My calendar has a healthy social life. I’m hoping to catch up with it eventually.
For now, the countdown continues. The balcony is booked. Online check-in is open.
And Royal Caribbean keeps asking me to manage my reservation when, frankly, finding someone to occupy the other balcony chair would be a much more impressive service.
Forty-one days to go. Future ex-wife applications remain open. Please include availability, snack preferences, and your position on unnecessary layovers.
Day 96: The Stock Is Flat. The Communications Team Is Quiet. The Petition Isn’t.
Welcome to Day 96.
As I write this, Nextdoor Holdings (NXDR) is sitting at $2.48—no gain, no loss. Recent market data confirms the shares at roughly that level after a nice run from $2.15 on September 9. Yahoo!ファイナンス
So, today the stock is doing something Nextdoor Communications seems pretty good at lately:
Sitting quietly.
One Post. About Someone Else’s Award.
Nextdoor's LinkedIn communications have been unusually quiet this week. The notable post on Monday highlighted Publix, which ranked No. 4 on PEOPLE's 100 Companies That Care list. Nextdoor itself wasn't among the companies being recognized; the connection was that a Publix employee used Nextdoor while helping neighbors ahead of Hurricane Milton. LinkedIn
As I wrote earlier: congratulations to Publix and, especially, the employee who actually helped those neighbors.
But we're now at Day 96, and the detailed Insights data I've been requesting remains unresolved.
Meanwhile, something new is moving.
The Petition Is Live
I've launched a petition asking Nextdoor to consider a Neighbor Value-Sharing Agreement.
The idea is simple: if years of reviews, recommendations, advice, and local knowledge contributed by neighbors become increasingly valuable—particularly in an AI-driven world—shouldn't the people creating that value participate in it?
If you agree, take a moment to sign it.
Then do something even more important:
Share it.
Send it to another Nextdoor user. A small-business owner. A neighbor. Someone interested in AI, user-generated content, or how platforms monetize the communities that make them useful.
Day 96.
The stock is flat.
Communications is quiet.
The conversation doesn't have to be.
👉 Follow the continuing case study at NielFlamm.com/blog
A $10,000 2023 BMW M3 Competition? TikTok Has Apparently Entered the Luxury-Car Business
TikTok must really want me to buy a car.
After showing me suspiciously cheap Toyotas and Hondas, the algorithm has apparently decided I deserve an upgrade.
This time, the account is called “BANK-OWNED CARS FOR SALE,” and the vehicle in the video is described as a:
2023 BMW M3 Competition
Asking price: $10,000
Down payment: $500
Yes.
A 2023 BMW M3 Competition for ten grand.
At least we're moving up in the world.
🚩 Let's Check What a 2023 BMW M3 Competition Is Actually Worth
This is where the offer becomes interesting.
Kelley Blue Book currently puts a typical 2023 BMW M3 Competition at roughly $74,000–$75,000 as a Fair Purchase Price. KBB lists private-party value around $69,000 and trade-in value around $65,000, though actual values vary substantially with mileage, condition, and location. Kbb.com
And if the car pictured is the Competition xDrive version, KBB puts the Fair Purchase Price even higher—roughly $77,000. Kbb.com
TikTok?
$10,000.
That's not a good deal.
That price demands an explanation.
If the typical Competition is worth around $74,000, the TikTok price is roughly 86% lower.
Maybe the vehicle has substantial damage.
Maybe there's a title issue.
Maybe it has astronomical mileage.
Maybe there's some other legitimate explanation.
But that's precisely the information a buyer needs before getting excited about a $500 down payment.
🚩 Wait... How Many Miles Does It Have?
Someone in the comments asked:
“How many miles are on the dash?”
Excellent question.
The screenshot doesn't tell us.
Mileage matters when we're discussing why a late-model performance BMW is supposedly selling for a fraction of its normal value.
Another commenter simply writes:
“real price”
The account responds:
“$10,000”
Okay.
That answers the question without actually answering the much bigger question:
WHY is it $10,000?
🚩 But It's “Bank-Owned!”
This version adds a new ingredient to the recipe.
The account calls itself:
BANK-OWNED CARS FOR SALE
That sounds official, doesn't it?
Maybe people imagine a bank repossessed the BMW and just wants to recover whatever money it can.
But think about the economics.
If a bank legitimately repossessed an asset potentially worth tens of thousands of dollars, why would it voluntarily sell it for $10,000 if substantially more could potentially be recovered through established wholesale or auction channels?
“Bank-owned” doesn't magically make market value disappear.
If anything, that description makes me want more documentation, not less.
Which bank owns it?
Where is the vehicle?
What's the VIN?
What's the mileage?
What's the title status?
Where can I inspect it?
Who is legally authorized to sell it?
Those are boring questions.
Boring questions are extremely useful when somebody wants your money.
🚩 And My Old Friend Is Back: $500 Down
There it is again.
$500 DOWN.
This number has become a recurring character in the questionable vehicle ads showing up in my TikTok feed.
The vehicles change.
The prices change.
The accounts change.
But somehow that small, psychologically appealing down payment keeps appearing.
This time we're supposed to believe that $500 gets the process started on a late-model BMW M3 Competition.
What happens to the remaining $9,500?
What's the APR?
What's the loan term?
What's the monthly payment?
Who's financing it?
What are the credit requirements?
The screenshots don't tell us.
That's a lot of missing information for an advertisement prominently featuring a down payment.
🚩 Look at the Engagement
This is why I don't simply laugh and scroll away.
The video shows:
1,394 likes.
88 comments.
360 saves.
377 shares.
And in the comments, someone says:
“I'll take it”
That's the part that matters.
Because a person who knows what an M3 Competition normally costs may immediately recognize how extraordinary this offer is.
Someone else might not.
They may simply see:
BMW M3
$10,000
$500 DOWN
And think they just stumbled across the opportunity of a lifetime.
🚩 “Where Is This Car Located?”
There's another interesting detail right on the TikTok screenshot.
The suggested search says:
“where is this car located”
That's exactly what I'd want to know.
If I were seriously considering this vehicle, I wouldn't begin with:
“How do I send the $500?”
I'd begin with:
Where is it?
Then:
What's the VIN?
Then:
Who owns it?
Then:
Can I see the title?
Then:
Can I have an independent mechanic inspect it?
Then:
Can I see the car in person before paying you anything?
A legitimate transaction should survive those questions.
🚩 The Pictures Don't Prove Who Owns the BMW
The screenshots show what appears to be a real BMW M3 sitting outside an automotive business.
That's useful for showing us that a BMW existed somewhere when the images were taken.
It does not, by itself, establish that the TikTok account owns the vehicle or is authorized to sell it.
That's one of the most important lessons with social-media vehicle listings.
A photograph of a real car doesn't automatically make the offer real.
Dealer photographs can be copied.
Auction photographs can be copied.
Videos can be reposted.
Descriptions can be copied.
A scammer doesn't necessarily need to invent a car.
They may only need pictures of someone else's car.
I'm not saying that's what happened here; I haven't independently established who owns the BMW in these screenshots. But that's exactly why verification matters.
🧮 Let's Put the Numbers Side by Side
According to KBB, a typical 2023 M3 Competition currently has a Fair Purchase Price around $74,000, while the xDrive version is around $77,000. Kbb.com
The TikTok advertisement:
$10,000
Down payment:
$500
Mileage shown:
Not in these screenshots
VIN shown:
Not in these screenshots
Bank identified:
Not in these screenshots
Financing terms:
Not in these screenshots
Someone ready to buy:
“I'll take it.”
That's exactly why these posts deserve attention.
🏡 Don't Be Passive. Be a Good Neighbor.
I've been saying this more frequently because I think it's important.
When you see something online that looks suspicious, don't automatically assume everyone else sees what you see.
Someone may desperately need transportation.
Someone may not know what an M3 normally costs.
Someone may believe that “bank-owned” explains the enormous discount.
Someone may be one private message away from being told:
“Send $500, and we'll reserve it.”
I have not messaged this account, so I don't know what happens next, and I'm not claiming that's what this seller does.
But if you see someone preparing to send money on an extraordinary social-media offer, say something.
Ask questions.
Report suspicious posts.
Help them verify the seller.
Look up the vehicle's real value.
Ask for the VIN.
Independently identify the dealership or bank supposedly selling it.
And most importantly:
Don't send a deposit merely because someone on social media says the deal won't last.
Being a good neighbor doesn't stop when you go online.
Sometimes it simply means telling somebody:
“Before you send that $500, let's figure out why a $74,000 BMW supposedly costs $10,000.”
Because if there's a legitimate explanation, the seller should be able to provide it.
And if there isn't?
You may have just helped somebody keep their $500.
Follow along at NielFlamm.com/blog for more questionable vehicle offers, suspicious emails, recruiting scams and whatever the algorithm sends me next.