DOUGH-DOUGH

 I'm not the most money-savvy person on the block. If I were, you'd be reading about my expertise rather than think-pieces on B-movies. But I know enough to avoid from going under.

First, ask them if the watch the news.

In my last job, the HR department invited financial planners to advise us on where to invest our 401k's. The guy I was saddled with insisted that Russia was the way to go. At the time -- in fact, all the time -- Russia's economy was as stable as a two-legged chair occupied by Fatty Arbuckle. When I shared my doubts, the expert agreed that Russia was kind of shaky at the moment, but in the upcoming year, he assured me, "they'll have to make changes." 

"Well, yeah, maybe they have to," I replied, "but they don't have to." I thanked him for his service, and told him I would keep my investments where they were. 

My 401k continued to grow, while Russia's economy went the way of Yuri Gagarin. The moral of our story: A gut belief is worth more than a Master's Degree.

He probably looked like these guys.

And if you don't believe me, meet Charlotte Cowles, the financial columnist for New York Magazine, who willingly gave $50,000 to a total stranger claiming to be a CIA agent after he told her that her Social Security number and bank accounts had allegedly been hacked. 

As you read the piece -- and you should, since a brief rundown on my part wouldn't do justice to its insanity -- it becomes clear really fast that it was all a scam. Nothing about it makes any sense, from the call that initiated the rigamarole to Cowles being told she couldn't tell anyone, especially her husband, about the alleged hacking. I mean, your typical cop show fan would have told you that if any federal department was going to get in touch with you regarding such a crime, it would be the FBI. And even then, they wouldn't do it.

Or... $00.00 by not answering the damn thing.

The funniest part is that it all started with a call displaying the Amazon ID. There was the problem, and one I could have warned her about. I never, and I mean never, pick up any call from a number from anyone who isn't friend or family. And it hasn't cost me a dime. Hell, I've let calls from my current money manager go to message just to make sure it's really him. Upon recognizing his voice, I pick up with barely an apology.

Charlotte Cowles could have saved herself $50,000 by not answering the phone.  So here's my sage financial advice: If it's important -- if it's real -- they'll leave a message.

You'll never catch me falling for a ruse like the one a smartypants money pro fell for. And if I do, you won't read about it here. I'll try selling it to New York Magazine instead. I'll have to make back some of that money I lost to my own stupidity somehow.

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