I Was Almost Scammed!

An artist con that almost got me, in four acts

What a world! What a world! Illustration by Brian Gresko

I’ve heard from a bunch of writers recently about various scams – being asked to pay so that a book club would read their work, for instance – and I’ve gotten shady DMs on social media about improving my reach and all that, but this con is layered, took time, and played on some deep insecurities I have and that I think many writers share. I’m laying it all out in detail in the hopes it’s edifying.

Act 1

The scam started with an unusual request through my website. Most inquiries I receive are from authors or publicists seeking coverage on a book, or new writers requesting editorial assistance, but this one, which came on Thursday, January 7th, was about my illustrations.

My name is Brandon Davis. I am an academic event organizer and an individual living with Apraxia. I discovered your work online and was impressed by your expertise.

I am looking for a talented illustrator or cartoonist to collaborate on a project for an upcoming workshop. I have specific concepts in mind that I would like to have drawn, and I can provide you with the full details so you can share a price estimate. I am happy to work with your standard deposit or payment structure

I’ve only published one illustrated piece, a short comic about growing up with my adoptive dad called Queer as Family, on The Rumpus. In style, my illustrations are… unique. I’ve had agents call them new and unusual but also amateur. (One said my illustrated memoir looked like a college student’s art project, which, DIY enthusiast that I am, I took as a compliment, though it wasn’t delivered that way!) To have someone seeking to commission me for visual art? I was pleasantly shocked.

Right off the bat though, I noticed some strangeness. Apraxia is a neurological speech disorder, so though I offered to speak in real time when I responded, I anticipated all of our communication would come in email. And when I googled this guy, Brandon Davis, I got results, some even that pointed to Apraxia studies, but none of which seemed to be him. It’s like he almost had a digital footprint, but not really. It was eerie.

On the other hand, I’ve had plenty of strangers contact me for legit work, so the next morning I responded, but cautiously. I asked to know more about the project, the specifics of what he needed, and his timetable.

A few hours later, on the afternoon of Friday, January 8th, he responded with a detailed design brief. He said he was looking for eight illustrations for a workshop entitled “Combatting Monkeypox: The Importance of Vaccination and Immunization” which “aims to educate young people about the risks of not taking preventive measures against monkeypox.” The project was broken into two parts, each of which required four illustrations; the deadline for part one was the end of February, the deadline for part two was the end of March, which gave me plenty of time to create the images. He specified what the images were to depict; the size of the files he would need, which would be used as both handouts and in a powerpoint presentation; and laid out guidelines on color and style.

The fee he suggested? An incredible $900 per illustration, for a total of $7,200, to be made via “certified bank draft, cashier’s check, or bank certified check.”

Act 2

In retrospect, warning signs:

• The cashier’s check; a typical tool of scammers.

• The sad fact that no matter how detailed a design brief, it could easily be generated via AI.

• The topic doesn’t actually make sense! Monkeypox (now more commonly known as m-pox) is real and so is the vaccine, but it’s typically only administered to sexually active at-risk individuals; my guess is that this was chosen because it might appeal to a progressive/liberal oriented artist?

• Brandon Davis’s email signature listed him as “event organizer,” with the address 13455 Noel Road, 20th Floor, Dallas, TX. 75240. This appears to be an art gallery space in a mall. There was no website given, and a further search on LinkedIn pointed to someone who could be him, but probably wasn’t. In part because of living in the New York City bubble, I figured, could an event organizer be based in a mall? Sure, I guess. Though, later, by looking more closely on Google maps, it appears the mall doesn’t have 20 floors. Well, duh. What mall does?

In my present-tense reality, my emotions:

Not only did I feel special to be solicited for my work, but that fee could fund a family vacation or be put aside for my son’s college fund. I have long struggled under internalized working-class and societal ideas around money, art, and masculinity, namely that a dad should be doing something to provide financially for their child instead of only adding sniffs and scraps to the family budget. To be offered this much for my visual art work was staggering.

Immediately, imposter syndrome flared. My supportive spouse countered that I’m a good artist and this person seems well-funded; I shouldn’t say no out of fear. It was the anniversary of David Bowie’s birth and death, and while listening to a tribute on KEXP I heard him speak about how, if you’re far enough out in the water that your feet can’t quite touch the ground anymore then that’s where you should be. This felt like a message from the cosmos.

Plus, how many times have I waded forward not knowing what I was doing, determined to figure it out as I went along? Fifteen years ago, a hungry agent trying to woo me gave me an advance copy of Karen Russell’s debut novel Swamplandia! On the back, it listed her publicist’s email. At the time, I was blogging for Huffington Post about being an at-home dad, but I contacted Karen’s publicist and said I wanted to interview her for HuffPost’s books section, as if I had approval for that, which I didn’t. I operated on the faith that if I submitted the interview unsolicited then HuffPost would take it, and they did. For years, my creative career has required taking risks–doesn’t everyone’s?–and here was yet another one.

So, I decided to say yes and take on the job. But! Before I did, because I’ve been doing creative business online for a while now, I first wrote back to ask one clarifying question (about whether he needed me to make space on the illustrations for text on the powerpoint) as well as inquire about whether there would be a contract and what the timetable would be for payment.

For three days he didn’t respond. I figured, whatever, he must have found someone else, probably someone more experienced and quick on the draw. I’ve lost out before because of speed. It’s one of the shit things of our online world, how calls for work go out and are quickly responded to–an aspect of digital creative life that makes it easier for the scammers, since artists and writers are conditioned to be fast and responsive; desperate.

Finally, on Tuesday, January 12th, Brandon wrote back to say that his sponsor approved the funds and that we were set to move forward. He requested my name, bank name, address, and phone number, and said he would arrange for partial or full payment right away via cashier’s check. Again, the lack of clarity on whether it was partial or full payment should have raised my eyebrows, but my happiness at getting the job outweighed that concern.

He followed up the next day with a contract. As someone who also makes his own contracts since I am in no way able to afford a lawyer, and in fact who often arranges scope of work via email agreements, Brandon’s contract looked fine to me. It indicated that I had the power to cancel the contract but, if I did, I’d have to return the money. The client could cancel too, up to thirty days after signing, in which case I would have to return 75% of the payment. Interestingly, the contract said I would be paid 70% upfront and the remainder at the end, but Brandon assured me he’d send the entire fee all at once, in advance.

Something didn’t feel right about getting the entire payment before showing any work, and yet, as I said, I’ve done plenty of work online and sometimes it goes down in ways that can feel casual. So, on Wednesday, January 13th, I digitally signed the contract.

Act 3

While I brainstormed illustration concepts, things began to get weird. On Saturday morning of January 17th, Brandon wrote telling me that a cashier’s check had been sent via certified mail and he provided me a tracking number. He also said that he was eager to receive drafts of the illustrations so he and the sponsor could review them, which felt strange given that the deadline was more than a month away and I had literally just signed the contract three days ago. I responded politely but tersely that I would let him know when the check arrived and probably have art to show him later the following week.

Later that day, a cashier’s check for the entire $7,200 arrived and I wrote to tell him. Brandon replied:

Thank you for the update. I genuinely appreciate your excellent customer service. I’ve been informed that the check needs to be deposited for the funds to be credited to your account. Kindly proceed with the deposit. I will need the deposit receipt for my bookkeeping, and I also need to send a copy to my sponsor for record-keeping purposes, Thanks.

Again, I was warmed to hear that he liked my customer service, though I did have a hint of reservation; he was showering me with a little too much flattery. I didn’t respond to this email though, because it was late in the day on Saturday of MLK weekend. The bank wouldn’t be open till Tuesday, and besides, I don’t like jumping when clients want me to move at the speed of the internet and write them back at all hours. Also, the cashier’s check was big and official, and I wanted to deposit it with a human bank teller, not an ATM.

On MLK day, while I was visiting MoMA with my family, he wrote to ask if I had deposited the check yet and said the sponsor wanted an update on the payment and the workshop project. I parked myself in a quiet gallery corner and replied that I would email him once I deposited the check with a teller and updated him that I had two drafts in the works, which I would share with him later in the week. He replied quickly to say that he talked to the sponsor who assured me I could use an ATM to deposit the check, and that he would then need a copy of the receipt for record keeping purposes. So, though it was fucking freezing out, and I didn’t think the ATM would quicken things due to the national holiday, I deposited the check once I arrived home and sent him a photo of the receipt.

He replied:

I have received the deposit receipt and have been informed that the exact amount has been deducted from the sponsor’s account. The full amount will be credited to your account, and the funds should be available within one to two business days.

The specificity here, that the funds had been deducted from the sponsor’s account, stood out, but at this point I had become normalized to his weirdness and excused it as just the way he communicated. I didn’t reply. The next morning, on Tuesday the 20th, he wrote:

The funds should now be available in your account. Please check your bank balance and let me know so I can inform the sponsor that the payment has been received.

Because of all these mentions of the sponsor, I figured Brandon was working with someone else who was anxious, or micro-managing, and passing that onto me. (The lengths to which we go to to excuse behavior that doesn’t feel right!) I told him no, the money had not been received, it was still listed on my bank portal as “pending,” and, in what says something about me and how I reply to another person’s stress, I told him that wasn’t a problem, I was sure it would clear soon enough. I was honestly getting annoyed at this point about the money worries. I was excited about drawing the pictures! And I had begun in earnest. That’s where my energy was focused.

It’s at this point, however, that Brandon crossed the line from just quirky or unusual and I recognized that something fishy was up. Around 5:30 on Tuesday night, he wrote:

Thank you for the update. I understand your concern; however, in exceptional cases like this, the funds have already been transferred to your account. You may check your bank balance for confirmation, as the sponsor has confirmed that his account has been debited. At this point, I am pleased to congratulate you, as the payment has been successfully completed. For record-keeping purposes, kindly verify your bank account and confirm that the sum of $7,200 has been credited.

I look forward to your response.

First, as I said, I was the opposite of concerned, I was chill and pleasant, goddamn affable. Either this guy was massively mis-reading the room, or he was using AI to write his emails, or something else was going on.

Second, the funds had definitely not been transferred to my account; that was a lie. I double-checked by going onto my bank app and found not only had they not been transferred, but that a hold had been placed on the check. There was no way the check would clear until January 29th, nine days away. So, no, the payment had not, in Brandon’s words, been completed.

Finally, are you asking for my bank account number there, motherfucker? That’s how I read it.

And with that, all the other little warnings suddenly joined like Voltron into one big massive red flag. Brandon was totally scamming me! And because I was a needy artist – of both recognition, praise, and money – and because I am a generally forgiving and understanding human being when it comes to people communicating in unusual ways, and because I am so often emotionally and psychically depressed and aggravated when people start talking about money with this degree of anxiety and energy – it takes me right back to childhood, when my parents often fretted and fought about finances – I didn’t attune as closely as I should have to the business agreement.

For instance, I went back and looked at the contract and saw that it referenced the governing law of the Commonwealth of Virginia. But according to his email signature, Brandon was based in Texas!

Man, this mofo took me for a ride like I was a goddamn Honda.

Act 4

Yesterday morning, Wednesday, January 21st, I went in person to my bank. I explained what happened to the floor manager, and he asked to see an image of the check. When I pulled it up on the banking app he went, “Ewww… okay, that’s weird. I haven’t seen a check like this in a long time.”

He disappeared and for a while I waited, then overheard some buzz among people at their desks about me and the check. Eventually, the verdict came: the reason the check was on hold was because the bank’s systems had flagged it as fraudulent. The confusing thing is that, according to my bank balance, the money was in my account, but that’s a trick of how the funds are reported. The bank balance shows that I deposited the check, not that the funds have actually cleared. In other words, it looked like I had money that I never received, though I wouldn’t know that if I hadn’t clicked deeper into my bank’s app and website to investigate.

This here is the heart of the scam, which I worked out in my head before receiving an email on Wednesday afternoon from Brandon saying:

I sincerely regret to inform you that I’ve just heard back from the Sponsor, and due to unforeseen circumstances, the project has been canceled. I understand how disappointing this may be, and I truly appreciate your time, effort, and patience throughout this process.

In recognition of the inconvenience caused, the Sponsor has agreed to compensate you with 25% of the project fee.

This is in line with the contract I signed. Now, if all was above board, receiving $1,800 for two illustration drafts would still be pretty great money for me, but because the check hasn’t really cleared, I would be returning $5,400 I didn’t ever receive. The compensation is misdirection for the fleecing that’s taking place.

Turns out my local bank branch couldn’t help me. Strangely, they were concerned that their involvement would trigger the main office to pull out all the stops to protect my account, which would mean freezing it, an action that would inconvenience me in the name of helping me. Instead, I returned home and got on the line to the check fraud department. They assured me that the system worked by flagging the check and putting a hold on it; in a few days it would be rejected and they would work to figure out its origin. In the meantime, don’t spend the money, don’t return the money, and don’t engage any more with Brandon Davis.

The end take away for me is how stupid shaky it is to be working freelance and dealing with clients and students who are essentially strangers, and how much of that work happens on good faith. Even with people who aren’t scammers, shit often goes awry. Just last month, for instance, I spent an hour talking to a potential client who said he was thrilled to work with me, only to ghost. And every time I negotiate with a new client there is always a seed of doubt that I’ll do work and not get paid for it, and I imagine that the client also worries, if they’ve paid in advance, that they won’t actually receive what I’ve promised.

Like most freelancers, I don’t have a lawyer on retainer or a staff; it’s just me running my hustle like a headless chicken. I bring with me all the baggage of a working-class runt taught not to value art or myself as an artist, along with white suburban oppression culture of the 80’s where talking about money, along with politics and race, among other important things, was considered rude. I’ll be thinking about that going forward, trying to come up with safer ways to do business for me and my clients both. Any advice is welcome in the comments! As you’ve probably gleaned, I’m meticulous and organized but also sometimes naively optimistic and eager to please. Even publishing this might be a bad idea – for all I know other potential scammers are reading this right now and salivating to get their teeth in me!

Despite that risk, I’m posting this so people know to be aware of the Brandon Davises out there, or, if he continues to use this nom de guerre, of Brandon Davis himself. If someone is looking to hire you for work that sounds too good to be true it probably is. Also? Never consider yourself paid until the money actually hits that bank account. Artist beware!

Epilogue

Over the past few days, I created two illustrations for this baloney m-pox project, which I’ll share below just to get them off my damn desktop. The first is “A doctor discussing diagnosis and treatment options with a patient,” the second, unfinished one is “In a crowded urban setting, people of diverse backgrounds and occupations navigate the streets, each adorned with various styles of nose masks.” Googling revealed that, yes, masking helps prevent the spread of m-pox, so this made sense. ¯\_(ツ)_/¯

If you like this kind of shit and want to hire me, uh, maybe wait awhile cause right now I’m closed to queries!

Illustration by Brian Gresko

Illustration by Brian Gresko