Day 101: Nextdoor Said It. The Person Behind the Post Is Doing the Work.
I missed yesterday on LinkedIn, although I posted almost everywhere else.
So, welcome to Day 101.
NXDR closed today at $2.38, down 4.8%.
But something Nextdoor posted on LinkedIn caught my attention even more.
Read Nextdoor's LinkedIn post.
It highlights Jessica Spann, a Charlotte educator whose work supporting students ultimately caught the attention of The Drew Barrymore Show.
Then I got to Nextdoor's final sentence:
“Local posts have a way of traveling when the person behind them is doing the work.”
ABSOLUTELY!
That's my point.
Jessica did the work.
Jessica made the impact.
Jessica created something worth talking about.
Nextdoor provided the platform that helped amplify it.
That's valuable too.
But if Nextdoor recognizes that the person behind the post is doing the work, why shouldn't we also talk about that person participating in the value their contributions help create?
Think of Nextdoor as the funnel.
The funnel helps direct the gasoline.
But the gasoline makes the engine run.
Neighbors provide the stories, reviews, recommendations, conversations, and local knowledge that keep the platform interesting.
That's why I started the Neighbor Value-Sharing Petition.
And, for transparency, I remain its sole signer. 😂
I need signature No. 2.
If you believe neighbors should participate in the value their contributions help create, sign it. Then share it.
Sign the Neighbor Value-Sharing Petition
Nextdoor said it, not me: the person behind the post is doing the work.
Now let's talk about sharing the value created by that work.
👉 Full Day 101 post: NielFlamm.com/blog
The Scam Emails Are Getting Lazy: “Thanks for Your Order”… What Order?
Apparently, my imaginary shopping spree continues.
After Bitcoin purchases, mystery subscriptions, Geek Squad renewals, Facebook event invitations, and even a watch repair I never requested, the scammers have apparently decided they were working too hard.
Why bother creating an elaborate fake invoice when you can simply send:
“Thank You for Your Order.”
What order?
Excellent question.
Two Days, Two Mystery Orders
Yesterday, I received an email from “Manthan Williams” with the subject:
“Re: Thank You for Your Order 1KJBO6SYBRM6TJBQLEDV”
There was an attachment.
And almost nothing else.
Today, “Elizabeth Lewis” joined the party with:
“Thank You for Your Order 0RQKQA6198JOMD57P”
Another random order number.
Another attachment.
Another email with practically no explanation.
Apparently, customer service has embraced minimalism.
At Least Tell Me What I Bought
This is what makes these emails almost funny.
No recognizable retailer.
No product description.
No price prominently displayed.
No useful explanation of what I supposedly ordered.
Just:
Thank you for your order. Here's an attachment.
Oh, sure. Let me immediately open a mystery attachment from a random Gmail account to discover what I supposedly purchased.
What could possibly go wrong?
I'm not opening it.
That's an important point. I don't need to open an unsolicited attachment to investigate a purchase I don't recognize.
If I actually ordered something, I can check the retailer or payment account independently.
The Random Gmail Addresses Aren't Helping
One email claims to be from Elizabeth Lewis but arrives from a seemingly unrelated Gmail address.
The other claims to be from Manthan Williams and also comes from an unrelated Gmail address.
Could legitimate people use Gmail?
Of course.
But when an unexpected “order” email arrives from a random Gmail account, provides virtually no information, and wants me to open an attachment to learn more, my curiosity isn't winning this battle.
Delete beats double-click.
The Attachment Is the Bait
These messages use a slightly different approach than the fake PayPal and Facebook invitation scams I've been documenting.
Those messages tried to scare me with a large dollar amount and get me to call a telephone number.
These appear designed to create curiosity:
What did I order?
How much did they charge me?
Did somebody use my credit card?
What's in that attachment?
And that's exactly why I'm leaving the attachment alone.
Fear can make people click.
But so can curiosity.
My Imaginary Self Has Quite the Lifestyle
According to my inbox, imaginary Niel has been busy.
Bitcoin.
Geek Squad.
Mystery subscriptions.
Watch repairs.
More mystery subscriptions.
And now two mystery orders in two days.
The only thing missing is knowing what I actually bought.
Come on, scammers.
If you're going to invent purchases for me, at least make them interesting.
Tell me I bought a Ferrari.
A beachfront condo.
A private jet.
Maybe a lifetime supply of Coke Zero.
Give me something worth accidentally ordering.
Instead, I get:
ORDER 0RQKQA6198JOMD57P.
I'm underwhelmed.
Have a Scam Email? Send It to Me
I'm still collecting these because the tactics keep changing, even though the objective remains the same: get us to react before we stop and think.
If you've received a suspicious email, fake invoice, mystery order, phishing text, social media scam, or another creative attempt to separate you from your money, send it my way:
Tell me what happened and send a screenshot if you have one. Please remove or cover sensitive personal or financial information before sending anything.
Maybe I'll feature it in a future post.
Until then, Elizabeth and Manthan:
Thanks for thanking me for my orders.
Whatever they are.
Touring Assisted Living: I Have Questions—and I’d Like to See the Menu
I’ve been scheduling visits to assisted living facilities for my mother. After two strokes and her current stay in skilled nursing, I want to help her find somewhere she feels comfortable, supported, and happy to live.
There’s a lot to ask about. A nice lobby is lovely, but my mother won’t be living next to the decorative vase by the front door.
I want to know what daily life actually looks like.
Who is available when she needs help, including overnight? How do they support her mobility and help with everyday tasks? How are medications handled? What happens if her needs change?
I also want a clear explanation of the cost. What’s included in the monthly price, and what costs extra? I’d prefer to discover the additional charges before they become a recurring surprise.
I’m also asking about activities, transportation, visitors, and how residents spend their time. Can Mom make choices about her day? Who do I contact with a concern, and how do they communicate with families?
And as I walk around, I want to pay attention to how people interact. Are staff members taking time to listen? Do residents seem comfortable asking for things? I want to picture my mother actually living there.
Then we get to the most important item on my personal tour agenda.
The food.
Yes, I have questions about staffing and care. I also have questions about the chicken.
I’d Like to Schedule a Tasting
My mother says she’s a picky eater.
Her reviews of the food at the hospitals and now the facility support that. The current place was supposed to have good food, according to the Google reviews.
Mom has apparently declined to join the consensus.
Somewhere, a glowing review of a meal is waiting for my mother to discuss with the author.
So I had a thought: people do tastings before weddings. Why wouldn’t I ask to taste the food before helping Mom choose somewhere she’ll eat every day?
A wedding dinner is one meal. This is a much longer commitment to somebody’s mashed potatoes.
As I schedule these visits, I’ve been asking whether they can have food available for me to try—and something I can take back to Mom.
I can look at the room, ask about the services, and review the costs. But I’m not volunteering to approve six months of lunches on her behalf without bringing her a sample.
I have enough responsibilities. Becoming the defendant in Mom v. The Meatloaf does not need to be another one.
Please Don’t Make Anything Special
One place asked whether there was something special they should make.
I appreciate the offer. But I’m not asking for Hell’s Kitchen. Nobody needs to summon Gordon Ramsay or explain the emotional journey behind a carrot.
I told one place: let me know what’s on the menu. If there’s a choice, I’ll choose from that. Please don’t do anything different.
I want the true experience.
If Tuesday lunch is turkey, rice, and green beans, that’s what I want to try. I want to know what Mom can expect on an ordinary day, after the tour is over and the welcome folder has been put away.
A special meal made just for my visit wouldn’t answer that question.
I’m also interested in what happens when she doesn’t like the scheduled meal. Are there alternatives? Can she choose something simple? How much flexibility is there?
Because “she’ll eat it when she gets hungry” is not a dining plan I’m looking to purchase.
Mom Gets a Vote—and a Fork
Plenty about this process feels serious, expensive, and emotionally exhausting. Food gives us something concrete to talk about—and, hopefully, something to laugh about.
It also matters to Mom. She’s told me that clearly, and I’m listening.
She’s already dealing with a lot of change. I want her to have meals she looks forward to, choices she feels good about, and a place at the table where she feels comfortable.
I’m not expecting every dish to become her new favorite. I would, however, like lunch to have a fighting chance.
So I’ll keep scheduling visits, asking questions, and looking closely at what each facility offers.
And I’ll be asking for a sample.
The brochure can tell me about the dining experience. Mom can tell me about the potatoes.
More Than a Visit: Prosthetics, Pets, and Another Conversation
This morning, on my way to see my mom in the facility gym, I passed my friend—the woman who had already given me the rundown on burgers and sweet tea.
Today, I got to learn a little more.
She told me her son had a toe amputated in 2022 and is on his fourth prosthetic. I’m on my fourth, too. His socket has a dragon on it. Mine has a New York Yankees logo.
Different approaches to intimidation.
When I first stopped to talk with her, I couldn’t have guessed we would eventually find that connection. But that’s what I’m enjoying about these conversations: I keep learning something I didn’t know about the person in front of me.
There was also a chocolate Lab named Maverick in one of the business offices. I don’t know his official job title, but I’m comfortable assuming he’s in management.
That led to learning about the cats and dogs my friend has had over the years. There were enough that I can’t remember them all for this post. I would have needed a notebook, a family tree, and possibly Maverick’s administrative assistance.
Yesterday, I wrote about making time to visit and listen. This morning, I got to continue the conversation.
I’m starting to know this woman beyond the fact that we happen to be in the same room. I know where she likes her sweet tea. I know a little about her son. I know we have something in common that I never would have discovered by simply saying hello and walking past.
And now I know she has a lifetime of pet stories.
My mother’s recovery is what brings me into that facility. Along the way, I’m getting to know other people whose lives are unfolding there, too.
I don’t remember every detail. Thankfully, I don’t think friendship comes with a quiz.
But I’m glad I stopped. I’m glad she had more to tell me. And the woman I first described as another resident is now someone I call my friend.
From Tau Epsilon Phi to Ska: My Fraternity Brother Goon Is Still Making Noise
I’ve forgotten some things from college.
Classes. Professors. What I was supposed to be studying. And probably more than a few nights that are better left in the 1980s.
But I haven’t forgotten my fraternity brothers.
Back at The City College of New York, I was a member of Tau Epsilon Phi, Phi Chi Chapter. Like any respectable fraternity, we had pledge names—and some were considerably more memorable than others.
One of my fraternity brothers received the distinguished, dignified, and undoubtedly well-deserved pledge name:
Alice the Goon.
I’ve always just called him Goon.
All these years later, Goon is still making noise—except now people actually want to hear it.
He’s part of The Phensic, a ska band.
And somehow, that seems completely appropriate.
If you had asked me back during my CCNY days what someone named Alice the Goon would be doing decades later, playing in a ska band probably would have made my Top 10.
Maybe even the Top 5.
If you’re into ska, check out The Phensic. And if you’re not familiar with ska, this might be a good excuse to discover something different.
You can listen to their music here:
One thing I appreciate more as I get older is looking back at the people I knew during those college years and seeing where life took us all.
We’re older.
Hopefully, we’re wiser.
The hair situation has definitely changed for some of us. In my case, I decided hair was apparently an unnecessary luxury.
But those fraternity memories and connections are still there.
So, from one Tau Epsilon Phi, Chi Chapter brother to another:
Keep making noise, Goon.
And if you like ska—or want to hear what one of my fraternity brothers has been up to—check out The Phensic!