ILLUSTRATIVE COMPOSITE · NOT A TESTIMONIAL
It's a Sunday afternoon. Coffee's on. Ellen, 71, and her daughter Priya are at the kitchen table with a printed sheet between them and two phones face-down.
"Okay," Priya says. "I'm going to pretend to be someone calling you. You just do what's on the sheet."
Priya turns her chair away and puts on a stiff voice. "Hello, this is the fraud department at your bank. There's suspicious activity on your account and we need you to move your savings to a protected account right now. Please don't tell anyone, because this is an active investigation."
Ellen looks at the sheet. Line one says: Pause. Anyone can make a call sound official.
"I'm going to hang up," she says, reading a little stiffly, "and call the number on the back of my card."
Priya laughs. "That's it. That's the whole thing."
They run two more versions. In one, a "grandson" says he's in trouble and asks her not to tell his mom. In the other, a pop-up says the computer is infected and gives a phone number. Each time the answer comes from the same three lines on the sheet. Ellen asks for the code word in the grandson version. In the pop-up version she closes the browser and calls the number she already has for her nephew, who handles the computer.
It takes eleven minutes. The sheet goes on the fridge, under the magnet from the hardware store.
Nothing dramatic happened that afternoon, and that's how a good drill should feel. On a day that isn't calm, the right move has already been practiced once, out loud, at your own kitchen table.