It started with a notification.
And let me be clear—I, Chief Keet, saw it first.
Little ping on the human’s phone. “Unusual sign-in attempt.” I’m on my perch, minding my business, keeping watch like I always do. I glance over, see the alert, and think, that’s not good.
Human? Doesn’t care. Keeps scrolling.
I chirp once. A warning chirp. Professional. I’m a bird. It’s always professional.
Ignored.
An hour later, the phone is going off nonstop. Emails, alerts, everything lighting up like a seed bowl at feeding time. Now the human finally looks—and suddenly it’s a problem.
Can’t log in. Password changed. Recovery info gone.
“Why can’t I get into my email?”
Because you didn’t listen to Chief Keet, that’s why.
Now it’s chaos. Pacing. Phone calls. That stressed-out voice humans use when they realize they messed up. The ‘why me’ whine.
“Someone’s in my account.”
“There are charges I didn’t make.”
Yeah. I gathered that.
Next few days? Worse.
More accounts locked. Credit cards hit. One email completely gone. Just gone. You ever try rebuilding your whole setup from scratch? It’s like rebuilding a nest after someone kicks it off a branch. BTW: never do that.
From what I overheard:
- About $6,000–$7,000 tied up in fraud
- Took a couple weeks to get back into most accounts
- Took 2–3 months to really get everything sorted
And the whole time, I’m sitting there thinking, we could’ve handled this on day one.
Instead, I had to listen to hours of calls:
“Yes, I’ve already reported that.”
“No, I don’t recognize those transactions.”
“Yes, I can verify my identity.”
Over and over. No rhythm, no variation. Brutal. Like a dog whelping.
Eventually, things got handled. Money mostly returned. Accounts mostly recovered. But it took time, and it wasn’t quick. Email is still gone, from what I can tell.
Now, suddenly, the human is careful.
- Different passwords for everything
- Two-factor authentication turned on
- Emails split up instead of one doing all the work
- Alerts turned on for every little thing
Funny how that works.
Look, I’m not saying I run the house.
Well, okay, I do. I want people awake? They’re awake. But . . . I don’t pay the bills.
So here’s the deal: if Chief Keet chirps about a problem, maybe don’t ignore it next time.
Because that first alert? That was the easiest moment to fix it.
Everything after that? Way more work.
Anyway, things are stable now. I’m back on my perch. Phone still lights up once in a while, and yeah—I still check.
Because clearly, I’m the only one here paying attention. And that’s why I’m now: the Attack Parakeet.