"I Thought Corporate Support Was Calling Me—Until They Sent Me to an ATM at 1 AM"

It begins with an automated prompt that sounds indistinguishable from corporate support: "This call is recorded and monitored for quality assurance." For gig drivers working late-night shifts in quiet towns, that single sentence buys instant credibility. But behind the calm, professional tone lies an aggressive psychological trap designed to drain bank accounts in minutes.

A food delivery driver out on a late shift accepts a cash-on-delivery pizza order in a dark commercial alley. Seconds later, their phone rings. The caller uses the driver's real name, claims to be corporate security, and announces that the current order is fraudulent and must be canceled. When the driver opens their app, the order has mysteriously vanished.

Read next'I Saw an Eye Looking Back at Me': Remote Ranger Discovers Stranger Living Beneath Her Cabin Floorboards

What follows is a textbook masterclass in social engineering. The fake representative claims the driver's account is flagged for illegal account sharing due to a secondary device login. They ask repetitive questions about weekly earnings and payout methods, constantly affirming "that matches what I see on my end."

The scammer doesn't just ask questions; they build a wall of authoritative bureaucracy. They remind the driver that calls are recorded, cite fake internal security codes, and repeatedly offer reassurances that their account will remain active if they simply cooperate. To sweeten the deal and keep the target on the hook, the caller promises a $25 compensation fee plus $1.25 for every minute spent resolving the audit.

The trap peaks with an unbelievable request: drive to the nearest pharmacy ATM and complete two cash withdrawals—one for $300 and another for $200—to perform "in-person identity verification."

It is only when standing in the brightly lit parking lot of a local store that the driver snaps out of the trance, realizes corporate support never demands ATM cash, and hangs up the phone.

While psychological traps exploit panic through phone screens, physical isolation creates an entirely different brand of horror. Miles away, an urban exploration trip to a sprawling abandoned sugar mill takes a terrifying turn.

A young couple ventures into the rusted industrial complex late at night to photograph the decaying architecture. In the excitement of the moment, the driver makes a critical error: leaving the car headlights burning full blast against the brick wall.

Your brand, right here.Reach story-obsessed listeners in 45+ languages → advertise on Avonetics

The abandoned sugar mill, with its towering silos and labyrinthine corridors, amplifies every sound. Shadows stretch across concrete floors, and the sense of isolation is absolute. For an hour, they navigate eerie, quiet halls, joking lightheartedly about horror movie tropes and stalkers waiting in the dark. But the joke evaporates the moment they return to their vehicle. The key turns in the ignition, yielding only a hollow, rhythmic click. The battery is completely dead.

As the driver pops the hood to inspect the engine bay in the dim moonlight, a chilling sensation prompts them to look up. Standing inside a shattered third-story window of the abandoned factory is a tall silhouette. The unknown spectator stands perfectly still, staring down at the stranded couple before slowly, silently raising a hand to wave.

These harrowing encounters have sparked intense debate among survival enthusiasts and community watchers online.

One commenter said that any request involving cash withdrawals or gift cards is a massive red flag that should immediately trigger a hang-up, regardless of how official the caller sounds. Another argued that gig platforms create an environment of constant deactivation anxiety, making it far too easy for manipulative scammers to weaponize fear against unsuspecting workers.

Regarding the factory encounter, someone else argued that leaving headlights on while trespassing in isolated locations is an invitation for trouble. However, another person pointed out that simple human mistakes happen to everyone, and standing stranded under the gaze of a silent watcher is a terrifying experience no matter the circumstances.

On the latest episode of Close Calls, our hosts break down every tense second of these two near-misses, dissecting the psychological tricks of phone impersonators and the survival rules of late-night stranded encounters.