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| The famous gold ring |
In January 2013 I visited
London for a three-day conference at University College London. It didn’t begin until 11am on the Saturday
morning, so I briefly visited the Wellcome Collection to see their exhibition
on death. Afterwards I was ambling along
Euston Road, my mind on what I had seen, when I vaguely noticed a man walking
in the opposite direction. It was still
quiet, traffic light, and we were the only pedestrians on that stretch of
pavement. As he got close, he stooped
and picked up something. With an exclamation
that shook me from my reverie he straightened and showed me what was between
his fingers: a chunky gold ring.
I stopped and he said
something like “Look what I‘ve found!”
His accent was heavy, Eastern European.
I made some non-committal remark, slightly on my guard, ready to carry
on walking. He tried the ring on his
finger but it did not seem to fit, demonstrating that it was no use to him. Still holding the ring he said in fractured
English that he was a tourist and did not know what to do with it, so would I
take it. I didn’t know what to do with
it either, but said I would hand it in at a police station. I was already wishing I hadn’t stopped
because I had no idea where the nearest police station was, and it was going to
be a problem finding the time to hand in lost property.
He gave me the ring and it
felt solid and heavy, a signet rather than the wedding ring I had first thought
it. Putting it in my pocket I started
off again, thinking he was nice for not having kept his find, which he could so
easily have done. I had only got a
couple of yards when he was back next to me, gesturing to his mouth and saying
repeatedly “you give me money for food”.
I still couldn‘t make out if this was a con because for that to have worked
he would have needed to somehow create a feeling of obligation on my part. He hadn’t done that because I had told him I
was going to hand in the ring. All he
had done so far was to inconvenience me.
There was no reason why I
should hand over money to a random person in the street simply because he asked
for it, and this seemed extremely odd behaviour for a tourist, so I said
no. I started to walk away again, when
he became slightly agitated, walking along beside me and saying over and over,
“you give me money”. I kept saying no,
more and more firmly, and we walked on like this for a few more yards, the volume
between us steadily rising.
Becoming increasingly
anxious, he started pushing me towards the buildings as I tried to get away
from him. This made me annoyed and I
told him to go away. At this point he
started saying “give me back my ring, give me back my ring”. Thoroughly irritated by what was clearly a
con, I pretended to be confused. “But it
isn’t your ring, you found it on the pavement.”
“It is my ring,” he kept replying, then he pulled out a large bunch of
identical rings from his pocket. “It is
my ring, is my job.”
Now he was pushing me as I
tried to walk, and I was being sandwiched into the front of a building. He was a small chap so I didn’t feel
threatened physically, but I was concerned he might try to pick my pocket. I told him to go away in very strong terms, and he jumped back, looking shocked, perhaps
actually fearing violence from me. At least it cleared some space between
us. I had a thought.
“Are you legal?” I asked him,
and when he looked puzzled I said slowly, “Are you here legally?” At this he stepped backwards a few
paces. This was a winning strategy. “I know,” I said, “let’s find a policeman and
sort this out.” At the word “policeman”
he set off at a very brisk pace in the direction I had come. I carried on my way, one rather tacky, and
worthless, gold ring the better, wondering at the man’s incompetence.
I learned afterwards that
this is a common trick that seemingly originated in Paris, mostly run by
Romanians who initially migrated here for the 2012 Olympic Games. The conventional method is to create a sense of
conspiracy by the ‘finder’ offering the ring for sale at a price that would be
extremely good, say £20, if the ring were actually gold and worth
something. The moral slope is a shallow
one, sharing something apparently lost rather than stolen, so it can be easier
to reel in the victim. Many of those
conned curiously seem more amused than angry by the experience.
There is this alternative
procedure which I experienced, but it seems less reliable as the scammer has
already handed over the ring before asking for something, though it appeals to
someone’s good nature, requesting a quid
pro quo, in a way a cash transaction does not. It seems that most people who realise it is a
trick simply hand the ring back, perhaps more concerned about a confrontation
than I was, so it is generally a low-risk activity for the scammer. Possibly the rationale for this variant
technique is that most victims will intend to pocket the ring, which does
create a sense of obligation the confidence tricksters can exploit. In that case, I suppose you can’t really
complain if they succeed.
