This, apparently, is a computer

Over the past year, I have tried to embrace the on-line economy on four separate occasions, mostly to take advantage of what I thought were dirt-cheap bargains on computers.

The ads on Facebook talked about warehouses chock-full of various high-end models just waiting for me to liberate for outrageously low amounts. I was doubtful at first, but finally decided to order one after watching a video showing just how amazing this particular unit was.

The confirmation email I received mentioned how busy things were and lamented how slow the mail was, but a tracking number was supplied and I was told I could track the progress of my package, which I did over a four (or possibly five) week period.

When the package finally arrived, it was suspiciously smaller than I had imagined a computer to be. I opened it. It was a pair of sunglasses.

When I contacted the seller by email (most of these companies have names like Extrogenitird or some other silliness), the customer service rep was totally apologetic and offered a couple of options; I could return the glasses (by mail at my expense) and they would see if they could get one to me in the next three months or so if there were any left by then, or they could give me a 60% refund on the original purchase and keep the glasses. The text read like it had been translated into English by way of Greek.

Not really wanting either option, I contacted my credit card company and asked them to cancel the transaction. They were a little leery about this at first, suggesting that maybe keeping the glasses was the better option, especially since they were a designer brand.

“Seriously?” I asked.

Eventually, they agreed to cancel the transaction as long I returned the glasses.

I found out at the local post office that I could just refuse the package and it would be returned for free. Problem solved, and a week or so later I got my money back.

You would think I would have cottoned on to this bait-and-switch ruse after that. At various places in Asia, I thought, there must be warehouses full of useless stuff that could be sent to you “by mistake” and by the time you tried get it all sorted out, you just throw up your hands and say life is way too short to bother.

However, not realising that I’d dodged the bullet reasonably unscathed that first time, I ordered three more “bargain-priced computers” from three other ads, this time paying for them through Paypal.

I eventually received, in no particular order, a tea towel, a Russian-branded computer mouse, and a “fashion hat” (see above).

I received heartfelt apologies from all three gobbledygook-named companies along with various suggestions about how this could be rectified involving partial refunds and the return of the original item.

Paypal offers a way of contacting these companies through their website as a way to provide some oversight on these replies. One company wanted to me to bypass Paypal and contact them directly about this in order to “expedite” the arrangement.

Over a period of three months, I did manage to get back all the money I had paid out, though it was obvious from the continued replies to my inquiries that they were hoping I would eventually just give up or time would run out on my Paypal claim (it automatically times out after about three weeks). I did eventually return the tea towel and the “fashion hat,” but the company that sent me the Russian computer mouse just folded and ponied up a refund.

Since then, it has occurred to me that if any of these items had actually been computers, they would have been stopped at the border and subject to, at least, international duty.

Oddly enough, I see the same computers still being offered on Facebook by various other gobbledygook-named companies at about the same prices. I’ve been flagging these ads as “misleading,” and Facebook, in about 90 percent of the cases, has removed the flagged ads.

But the next day, there are more. Sigh.