📵 Press 9 for Scam: Paying $50 a Month for the Privilege of Being Harassed
by Tina Winterlik (aka Zipolita)
“You have a document that has not been signed for. To learn more, press 9.”
That was the message that popped up on my phone this week — a robotic voice claiming to be from Medicare. I’m Canadian, so I knew right away it was fake. We don’t even have Medicare. We have provincial health systems — MSP, OHIP, Alberta Health — but “Medicare”? That’s American.
Still, the call hit a nerve. Because it’s not just one call. It’s dozens. It’s the constant stream of robocalls, scams, and lies that make us afraid to answer the devices we pay $50 or more a month to carry. Phones used to mean connection. Now they mean caution.
📞 Communication Runs in the Family
Maybe this all hits harder because phones run in my family.
My dad was a lineman for BCTel back around 1950, before I was born. My mom used to tell stories about those days — she was in her early twenties, he in his thirties, living in a tiny trailer with my older sister while he worked long days along the Hope–Princeton Highway, climbing poles in all weather to keep people connected.
He must have loved Hope, because years later he moved us from Surrey to a little place between Hope and Yale. By then it was the late ’60s, early ’70s, and we had a party line — neighbours sharing a phone line, taking turns to talk, hearing familiar voices through the crackle. That was community. That was connection.
And my Great Aunt Mary, Aunt Charlotte, and Aunt Dorothy all worked for BC Tel in Nanaimo and Vancouver. Real women, real voices, connecting people before everything went digital.
Now, decades later, I can’t even answer my phone without wondering if it’s a scammer, a debt collector, or a robot pretending to be human. What would my dad think of that?
☎️ The Harassment Years
Even back in high school, I learned how quickly the phone could turn from a lifeline to a weapon.
There was a telephone salesperson who started calling after a misunderstanding. Every time I hung up, they’d call again — over and over. It went on for days. Finally, a friend of mine picked up and said something so fierce that the calls finally stopped. But the fear stayed. I was just a teenager, realizing how something meant to connect could also invade.
And it wasn’t just me.
In the late ’80s, a friend of mine — a nurse — got a call from someone claiming to be a police officer. He said there were strange calls in her area and that they needed her help. Working long night shifts, she was tired and didn’t think much of it — until his questions got creepy. He asked what she was wearing, if she had panties on, and what colour they were. That’s when she realized it was the same man making harassing calls.
She hung up, called the operator, and the police came. They offered safety advice and said he had targeted many women. It was terrifying. The phone line — a tool of connection — had become a tool of fear.
By 2000, it got worse. I was horribly harassed by debt collectors, the kind of calls that crush your spirit. It went on so long that I became traumatized by the sound of the phone itself. I couldn’t bear it. I stopped having a phone for years.
It wasn’t until about 2006, when I had my kid, that I finally got a cell phone again — not because I wanted one, but because I needed it for safety. The irony wasn’t lost on me: a family who helped build the communication network in B.C., and there I was, too afraid to pick up a call.
Even now, that uneasy feeling lingers. The phone that once meant connection — voices of family, laughter, neighbours on a shared line — has become a device of stress, surveillance, and scam.
💔 Pay for Service, Get Scammed for Free
We pay $50 a month or more for our phones, yet can’t safely use them.
We block numbers, filter messages, screen calls — all to avoid being tricked, threatened, or exploited. Meanwhile, the same technology that tracks us for ads and taxes somehow can’t protect us from criminals dialing in by the millions.
Real people can’t reach each other, but scammers have a direct line to everyone’s pocket.
We’re paying for the privilege of being harassed.
💭 Reflective Questions
- How often do I ignore or block calls because I’m afraid they’re scams?
- When did the phone — once a lifeline — become a source of stress?
- Why are ordinary Canadians paying high phone bills for systems that don’t protect us from fraud?
- Who benefits when we live in fear of answering our own phones?
- How does digital dependence affect our mental health and trust in communication?
- What responsibility should telecom companies have to shield us from scams?
- Is the government doing enough to regulate robocalls and online fraud?
- How can communities support seniors, newcomers, and vulnerable people who are especially targeted by scams?
- What steps could I take to reclaim a healthier relationship with technology?
- How might we reimagine communication that connects — instead of exploits — people?
💡 Possible Solutions and Actions
Here are some ideas and starting points — both practical and political:
📵 1. Use call filters and report scams.
Most phones now have spam filters — use them. And report new scam numbers to the Canadian Anti-Fraud Centre:
👉 https://www.antifraudcentre-centreantifraude.ca
💰 2. Demand telecom accountability.
Canadian providers profit off our connectivity — yet we pay some of the highest rates in the world. It’s time they earn it with stronger anti-fraud tools, free call screening, and automatic scam blocking.
⚖️ 3. Push for better legislation.
Canada could follow examples from the UK and Australia, where regulators fine telecoms and scammers for illegal robocalls.
👵 4. Educate and empower.
Hold community workshops — at libraries, seniors’ centres, and schools — on spotting and reporting digital scams.
🌐 5. Support digital rights advocacy.
Groups like OpenMedia.ca and Citizen Lab fight for privacy and fair telecom practices. Support or amplify their work.
💬 6. Reclaim connection.
Call or visit friends in person. Real voices, real faces — that’s where connection lives.
🌿 7. Set boundaries.
Silence notifications, use “Do Not Disturb,” and take phone-free breaks. Protect your peace.
The phone once symbolized trust, community, and care — a line to loved ones and lifelines. Now it’s become something many of us fear. But by remembering where we came from — the linemen, the switchboard operators, the families who built connection — maybe we can still reclaim that original purpose:
to hear each other,
to help each other,
to be human again.
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