Cyber Chump

The other day, I renewed my anti-virus software with a company that shall remain nameless because I can’t afford a libel suit, and I can’t determine if what I’m about to write is true or just the rantings of irate bloggers like me. We’ll call them Company X.

I pulled up Company X’s website, clicked the RENEW NOW! button, selected my product, filled in my credit card details and landed on the checkout screen. I was just about to click the BUY NOW! button, when the words “virus removal assurance” spiked my blood pressure.

“Assurance” is one of those soothing substitution words that drive me crazy. It’s used in the insurance industry to take the sting out paying premiums for something you don’t ever want to make a claim for. Like terrorism and the military, insurance companies profit from fear, in most cases the fear of losing money, which is exactly what happens when you pay insurance premiums and why insurance company skyscrapers aren’t much shorter than those erected by banks. 

I’d always assumed I was buying anti-virus software to trap and remove viruses.  Had I been paying for something else all these years? Was my paranoid theory about the origin of computer viruses correct?

Bren’s Paranoid Theory About the Origin of Computer Viruses: The people who profit most from computer viruses are the people who sell anti-virus software. Motive. The people most likely to know how to neutralize a threat are the people who created it. Means. The people most likely to have access to my computer are the people who have automated update privileges. Opportunity. I would not be in the least surprised to discover my anti-virus software did nothing more than check my security key against a “customers in good standing” list.

I checked out the company’s website, but could find nothing about “virus removal assurance”, even when I did a site search just on the word assurance. I began to wonder if the company’s billing system had been hacked. Had I had just typed my credit card number into a pirate screen, run on a server farm in an abandoned Tijuana warehouse by a consortium of evil  geeks?

YIKES! Heart pounding, I scrambled over to Google and typed in “company X” + “insurance” + “scam”, but found nothing more than a few incensed bloggers protesting various “features” of Company X’s product. WHEW!

Buried in a forum frequented by people with titles like PhishingPhryer and SpamSquasher, (really, I didn’t make those up) I found a link to a virus cleaning service provided by Company X. For a hundred dollars, they’ll assign a real technician to disinfect my computer should it be attacked by a virus. Buying virus removal assurance waives this cost.

What virus? The one that got past the software I’m paying over a hundred dollars to prevent? Doesn’t your software work, Company X? Others had asked similar questions. A Company X representative responded: “This service is helpful if you're installing [redacted] for the first time on a system, or one that may already be infected and the malware is preventing the product from installing. Or prehaps [sic]you're renewing an expired subscription, and your machine is infected.”

Here’s what’s wrong with that response. I am not installing [redacted] for the first time, I am renewing an active subscription. And you know this, Company X, because you’ve got my activation key and inception date on file. So why are you trying to sneak charges in for something you know I’ll never use? What do you think I am? A cyber chump?

Well the joke’s on you, Company X. If you hadn’t used the word “assurance”, you’d be seven dollars richer now.