Once upon a time there was a little princess who lived in a cinder block castle. Sometimes she had to order goods from faraway merchants, and she paid them with the help of a little messenger pigeon named PayPal. That little pigeon was paid for his services with plenty of yummy french fries; in return he promised to deliver the princess's authorized payments safely, and to alert her if the merchant on the other end of his route was actually a scalawag. A 100% guarantee of protection, the pigeon had explained when he first met the princess on a windowsill in her highest tower. They lived happily ever after.
EXCEPT THAT'S NOT WHAT REALLY HAPPENED.
The true tale of woe:
|Before the disguise.|
Little PayPal arrived on the windowsill just then, ready to pick up any payments the princess had. He noticed something was different about the "princess," but because he was still a little boozy from a morning spent at the pub (called Corporate Greed by locals), he didn't act on his suspicions. Nor did he bat a buggy little pigeon eye when the "princess" ordered a computer from an Asian merchant she'd never dealt with. Even worse--when the pigeon delivered the funds to the shifty-looking basement dweller (the witch's brother and uncle--yes, this is one person), instead of noticing the pile of car stereos and marijuana plants in the corner, little PayPal just ogled the nightingale in the neighbor's tree. But the very worst was that PayPal allowed such transactions not this once, not twice, but a dozen times.
Needless to say, when the princess found that her savings had been plundered, she was ticked off. She uncovered the scheme, gathering clues and evidence that she'd been a victim of fraud. She presented her case to the pigeon--the very same pigeon who had sworn to protect her transactions and never hold her liable for unauthorized usage of her funds.
What did that stupid little pigeon do?
He shrugged his shoulders, and twittered, "We have completed our investigation of your case and, as there is insufficient evidence in support of your claim, we have denied your Unauthorized Account Use Claim."
The princess was even more ticked off by the pigeon's impertinence and refusal to abide by the terms of their agreement.
|Uhhhh ... I don't know what identity theft is, even though that's, like, my job.|
Then the little pigeon, who had grown fat off the french fries of his numerous, naively trusting customers, called in a favor from a group of thugs--he wanted to collect on the fraudulent debt he'd allowed the princess to incur due to his negligence and greed.
And the princess cried, for her kingdom was small and the thugs were large.
To be continued ...