It’s a good scam—totally non-violent and even friendly. And it’s not out to steal all your money and leave you destitute the way phone fraud, ID theft and letters from friendly Nigerian bankers do. It just wants a little taste of whatever cash you happen to have in your pocket. It’s fun to watch, even if you are the victim. It didn’t work on me the first time, either, but I was surprised at how slow I was to spot it the second time. I blame my aging synapses, currently busted ribs and general gullibility. I also blame the fact that I really AM a bit prosopagnostic. (That’s the inablity to recall faces. Don’t worry; I had to look it up, too. I have this condition of not being able to remember big words.) I have tons of relatives and have also gone through generations of former students and don’t recognize them on the street. So either I just don’t remember faces or all these people look alike. In either case, I am a “mark” for the gentle Neapolitan street scam.

As I said, they’re not trying to pick your pocket (that has happened to me twice) or assault you physically (once); they are either sitting in a car as you pass on the sidewalk, or they drive by you and pull over. Their opening gambit is always,

“Hey, how are you doing? Long time no see.”

Silence on my part.

“Ah-hah! I bet you don’t remember me.” At this point, I’m thinking ex- student. It has happened. I have bumped into them many times on the street, and they always remind me who they are and when they were in my class. Here’s where the scam differs, but very subtly.

“Well, it has been a long time. Don’t you remember what you were doing 10 years ago.” That’s the hook being baited.

“Teaching.” That’s me taking the bait.

And then comes the process of him getting information from you by the Neapolitan Socratic Method. (He asks and you answer; in five minutes he knows all about you.) He makes you feel like such a dunce for not remembering him and furthermore not even remembering that person you both knew at school—the one who died. Why, you unfeeling, uncaring swine! You wretch! But now it’s getting a bit too much. There is something familiar and wrong here…this has happened before. ”…Now I see through a glass, darkly; then face to face…” and I was really in a hurry (to get a beer). I begged off and waved good-bye to my long-lost and new-found friend.

“Wait!”—big smile—“I want to give you a something, just for old times’ sake.”

BOIINNGG! Snap. That’s the line breaking and releasing me. I remembered the first time it had happened. Same general story. The first time, he (a different he, I think, but you know us prosopagnostics) wanted to give me a sweater, but he needed some money for gasoline to get home. This time, he reached into his car and pulled out a small box. It might have contained a wristwatch, but I was already walking away. The finish would have been—if the hook had stayed in:

“Of course it’s a gift! I just need a few bucks to get home. My tank is empty. That’s why I’m parked near the service station.” He was pretty good at the scam, too. He gave off benevolence. I liked him! He had even kissed me on the cheek when he “saw me again” after all those years. That didn’t really bother me since in this friendly Latin culture, robust men are always kissing one another on the cheek. It still makes me feel a bit uncomfortable, but I’ll accept it as long as I can count on the custom migrating to strange women sooner or later, who will then keep coming up to me and kissing me on the cheek.

I didn’t kiss him good-bye.