I received a text on Tuesday that was life-altering.

OK, that is a bit of an exaggeration, but as soon as I read it, I knew it would occupy my time for a while – and it has and still does.

The text, which purportedly came from Bank of America, informed me that someone was trying to use my identity to put one of my credit cards on their Cash App, and had access to the last four digits of my Social Security number. I was advised to call an 855 number to speak with a BOA customer service representative.

I knew I was being targeted by a scam, but did not know if the text was a trap or if someone was indeed trying to add my Visa card to their Cash App.

I am targeted by scams almost every day, typically on Facebook where a surprising number of scantily clad, young and attractive, single or divorced women living in exotic locations from around the word are attracted to an old, balding man with a modest bank account and ask if I would mind sending them a friend request. As tempting as that is and as much as I want to believe, I do not.

A couple of times while bored and just for giggles, I have engaged the nearly naked young lady through messenger, answering her question of “How are you doing?” by saying, “Not so good. I got fired from job, my house burned down with Boots inside, and I have terminal cancer with just weeks to live.” Bots are not saddled by sympathy, because they then begin a series of questions intended to divorce me from my money.

It is fun to see which of my Facebook friends have sent that request, but hopefully no money.

One in four Americans during 2023 lost money to a scam, with the median loss – not to be confused with the average — being about $500, according to the Federal Trade Commission. That adds up to about $10 billion a year, a figure I suspect is low because no one wants to confess to being scammed.

I do not remember ever losing money to a scam, unless you count the time I was entering Lowes Foods and a Girl Scout asked if I wanted to buy some cookies.

“Of course,” I said, “how much?” “Five dollars a box,” she said, “or $20 for four boxes.” “I will take four boxes,” I said, handing over a 20-dollar bill.

I then walked a few steps, did some math in my head, turned around and said, “Didn’t think I would get scammed by a Girl Scout.”

She was obviously pleased with herself. Mom, too.

Except for that, nothing, although the boast is based on memory, so there is a growing margin for error.

I decided not to call the provided 855 number but instead called the customer service number on the back of the targeted credit card, thus starting the clock on how much of my remaining time would be consumed by this scam.

To my delight the representative arrived quickly, asked me a series of questions to ensure I was in fact who I claimed to be, and then told me that yes, indeed, someone had tried to add my credit card to their Cash App. He asked if my last purchase was for $98 and some change at Food Lion on West Fifth Street, which it was, and then he disabled my credit card and told me I would have a new one in seven to 10 days.

I was then given some homework, which was to identify any automatic drafts linked to the disabled card and attach them to the new card when it arrived.

The work continues as does the clock.

I did not lose any money, unless time indeed is money. At least as a retiree, my time has depreciated in value and I have more of it than ever, so the loss is less than it would have once been.