The Accidental Scamster

Inside the shady world of India's scam call centres

- By Niraj Kakade

I've done some pretty weird things for money. Jumped over railway crossings. Downed eight vodka shots in one night, partly for the thrill, mostly because the prize was 2,000 bucks, and the alcohol was free. But nothing beats the week I worked in a scam call centre.

Picture this: Its past midnight in Pune. A two-bedroom “office” that smells of sweat, biryani and menthol cigarettes. The ceiling fan, trying to spread the stench of a ‘busy night’ equally to all parts of the room, rattles like it’s about to file a complaint with HR. Twenty-year-olds in oversized hoodies have their ears glued to cheap headsets. Somewhere, someone’s microwaving cold Maggi. I’m, 20-years-old, sitting there, sleep-deprived, broke, high on instant coffee.

Phones start ringing. The cacophony in fake accents fade in and snaps me out of my visual dystopia: “Hello sir, this is John from Microsoft Tech Support...”

“Wait, I work for Microsoft?” I startle myself with this sudden exposition. Maybe we were vendors or something... I try to convince myself. Just then someone announces they’re calling from the FBI, in the thickest Marathi-English accent imaginable, with the confidence of a man who’s never met an American in his life. That’s when it hit me. This wasn’t a job. This was an organised scam. Every desk was a crime scene. Every monitor, a weapon.