The persistence of Spam

Dear Hipster:
I have one of #lifeslittlemysteries for you. HOW IS SPAM STILL A THING? I know of literally NOBODY who has ever bought sexytime drugs from an email, yet somebody is always keeping my spam filter occupied. Why does this continue when proven ineffective?
— Janelle

Dear Sir and madams,
Have a good day! At the end of this month, Our company would like show you a favor to the new customer. if you confirm the try order in one month. We would like to show you a good price for our Led Gloves. The prices are directly ship to your hand by DHL express. pls check enclosed Bill for your ref . Just for sevral hundred dollars for your try order ? it is a small invest for you . I promise you should happy for this try order . look forward to hear from you . thanks a lot!
— Janice Cai, fancyglow.com

I’m afraid I have no answer for the first query. I was arranging complicated, international bank transfers to pay for 800 LED gloves. How lucky am I that Ms. Cai chose me, one hipster among the quarter-billion internet users in this country? Don’t be sore, friends, I’ll let you borrow some of my LED gloves if you ask super nice. Soon, everybody will be wearing them, but only I will have been into them before they were cool.

We in the business of paying attention to these phenomena have heard the story before: spam persists because the spammers’ efforts pay off if only 1 out of every 12 million emails nets a response. We assume that it’s just the occasional oldster getting duped into buying medicines that induce finest sexytimes. After all, scams that prey on the elderly have been around for ages.

I don’t buy it.

Nobody gets “fooled” into buying 200 pairs of LED gloves at $3.19 a pop. But, somebody will do it out of sheer curiosity.

My friend once ordered a carpet cleaner from a midnight infomercial. Knowing full well that the product was a 99-percent waste of money, he couldn’t resist. He neither wanted nor needed it, but, once piqued, his curiosity demanded satisfaction.

I have other friends who went to the Lawrence Welk Resort time-share sales pitch scam in Escondido filled with the knowledge that they were walking right into a bait-and-switch scheme! Later, they said they figured they could extract something from the trip, since they considered themselves cagier than the scammers.

I know my samples of one carry little weight, but there’s some allure in signing up for a known scam because you think there’s a minuscule chance it might turn into a good deal, and since you know it’s a scam you can protect yourself from getting ripped off. There’s this little white lie, despite overwhelming evidence to the contrary, “It’s different for me, because I am special.” And if you think that applies only to internet spam, well, clearly you’ve never found yourself wearing an ironic T-shirt, getting a tattoo of a mustache on your finger, scouring thrift shops for obscure vinyl, or drinking kale juice in an effort to stand out from the crowd.

In a weird way, we capitulate to the occasional spammy request because we love ourselves and think we are great. That’s weirdly heartwarming, and I’m actually kind of okay with it.