The Business Grant Scam That Almost Got Me And How I Flipped the Script

Grab your popcorn. No really. This is the post you’ve been waiting for. And yes, I really did offer them 60 jars of my premium spices as payment.
Let’s start with the obvious: scams are nothing new. We’ve all heard the stories. But this one? This one was different. Because I almost believed it.
This post is for every small business owner who’s ever dreamed of that one big break and for anyone who’s ever thought, “That could never happen to me.”
Well… grab a snack. Because it almost happened to me.
Chapter One: The Bait
It started like a scene out of a slow-burn scam thriller. I was just scrolling Instagram, minding my business, when I saw an ad:
“Empower Commonwealth Entrepreneurs Grant Program. Apply now. For businesses in Trinidad & Tobago.”
It looked legit. Commonwealth branding. A clean layout. It said it was for Caribbean entrepreneurs, specifically Trinidad & Tobago, people like me. There was even a deadline to apply. So I clicked. The form was on Google Forms. Basic, but not suspicious on its own. I filled it out, uploaded my proposal, and submitted it. Then came the first email:
“We were impressed by your application. Please complete the full version and submit the attached form.”
They attached a downloadable PDF and requested it be handwritten (in pen), scanned, and emailed.
I even paid my little sister to write it for me because, well, my handwriting is best left off official documents. I submitted the documents on June 23rd and waited. A few days later, another email arrived:
“Extended Deadline Alert: Applications are now open until June 30th.”
They were buying time. Creating urgency. But also making the whole thing feel even more real, like a true grant program with a formal process. Then July 1st hit:
“Congratulations! Your application has been approved.”
My heart jumped. I felt seen. But just beneath the congratulations came the catch:
“Before funds are disbursed, all grant recipients must be accredited by AFRIPCEN.”
AFRIPCEN — short for Africa, Pacific & Caribbean Certified Entrepreneurs was apparently a separate certification body. They had their own website. Professional. Clean. Full of buzzwords like “emerging entrepreneur” and “sustainable development.” They even linked to the real Commonwealth Chamber’s Facebook page to make it feel more official. Their email domain was close: .org instead of the real .com. Still, I was trying to give the benefit of the doubt… until one detail stopped me cold:
USD $595 accreditation fee. That’s around TTD $4,000. That’s when the sirens started. There’s a golden rule in the grant world: If they ask for money up front, it’s a scam. Then came the kicker, the account info for the fee:
Name: John Moshe Ochanda
Location: Nairobi, Kenya
I don’t know about you, but when a “global certification body” sends you to pay John from Kenya via MoneyGram, that’s a red flag with glitter on it.
Chapter Two: Suspicion Confirmed
Even though I hadn’t sent them any money, I still felt taken for a ride.
I had put effort into that application. Time into writing, scanning, formatting, and making everything look official.
And for what?
It felt like I’d been scammed not out of money, but out of my time, my hope, and a few of my brain cells. After sitting with it for a few days, contemplating my life choices, I did what any reasonable person would do.
I called the police.
…Just kidding. I did what any Trini would do when something was not adding up: I started digging. I found the real Commonwealth Chamber website; the domain ends in .com, not .org. I emailed them directly.
Their response?
“We have no affiliation with this grant or the organizations mentioned. This is not from us.”
Confirmed. Scam. Now, most people at that point would cut their losses, delete the emails, and move on with life. But lucky for you guys, I have no life. So I decided to go undercover. I figured I had already invested all this time, so I might as well get content out of it. So I played along. I flipped the script.
If they were going to waste my time, then I was going to waste theirs.
Chapter Three: The Long Con Begins
I emailed AFRIPCEN, all enthusiastic.
“Thank you so much for approving my business! I’m ready for the next steps.”
Then I slipped in a little request:
“Would it be possible to deduct the accreditation fee from the grant before you send the balance?”
Their response?
“No. We are not responsible for disbursement. You must pay the fee yourself.”
Cool, cool. So at this point, I decided to go all out. I told them my project had expanded. I was now requesting $500,000 USD, that’s over 3 million TTD!
And the project?
A spice-powered AI that helps you cook with personalized seasoning recommendations. Yes, you read that right. An artificial intelligence that runs on spices.
AND THEY APPROVED IT.
I kid you not. They wrote back saying the updated proposal was eligible for funding and they’d forward it to the “CCCAP.” Apparently, it sounded like a great idea. Of course it did. I almost choked. Then I hit them with a new hurdle:
“Unfortunately, outgoing MoneyGram transfers from Trinidad are currently restricted. But I have family in Canada, they could assist.”
I also asked if they’d consider accepting payment via Visa or PayPal. And just like that, they shifted tone:
“No payments can be made on your behalf from another country.”
Oh? It was on. By now, they were already invested in me. So I figured: let’s see how far I can take this. I told them my Canadian relative had an emergency, her man ran off and emptied her bank account. So now, unfortunately, I couldn’t make the payment.
But what could I offer?
Another email:
“Due to inventory expenses, my credit card is maxed out, I had to restock spices. Would you be open to accepting 60 jars of my handcrafted premium spice blends instead?”
I even offered international shipping, tracking, and flavour options. Value? Around $700 USD. Their response? A guilt trip, of course:
“It is unfortunate that you have not taken seriously what we do. Get back to us when you’re ready to proceed with the accreditation fee payment.”
Excuse me? Sir, I offered you gourmet spices and international shipping with tracking. You could’ve been eating good by now. No shame. At that point, I was done.
I sent one last angry-but-semi-professional email rant to the fake CCCAP, detailing AFRIPCEN’s lack of empathy for my Canadian relative and the disrespect of insulting my offer, hinting I’d escalate the issue to a higher authority. (Spoiler: There is no higher authority in a scam.)
A Lesson in Psychology
You might be wondering: how does something this ridiculous actually work on people?
The thing is, these scams aren’t designed to be obvious. They don’t start with “send us money.” They start with a process, one that mirrors the real thing. A simple form. A follow-up email. An extended deadline. A clean PDF. Professional language. Just enough steps to make it all feel legitimate.
By the time the money request shows up, you’ve already bought in. You’ve filled out documents. You’ve sent emails. You’ve imagined how this could help your business. So when they ask for $595, it doesn’t feel like a red flag; it feels like the final step.
That’s called the sunk cost fallacy, and it’s very real.
Scams like this don’t just target your bank account. They target your hope. Especially if you’re a small business owner trying to catch your first big break.
And it doesn’t just happen to people who are “naïve” or uninformed. It happens to smart, ambitious, well-meaning people, people who genuinely want to build something. These scams don’t work because people are stupid; they work because people are human.
They prey on our aspirations. On that part of us that wants to believe this opportunity was meant for us. That finally..finally someone sees our potential.
And this one? The setup was good. The emails were polished. The branding was convincing. The tone was professional. They didn’t rush the money request. They built trust slowly, layer by layer. It was a long con. And a clever one. It happens in business. It happens in bad relationships. And it could happen to anyone.
Final Thoughts
Scams like this are getting smarter. They’re polished. They sound real. They look real. They know how to make you feel like this opportunity was made just for you.
This wasn’t a random email full of typos asking for your bank account info. This wasn’t your typical “Nigerian prince inheritance” situation (we’ve all been there). This was something else. It was layered. Strategic. Drawn out over a month. A full website. Clean branding. Multiple emails. Staged follow-ups. And just enough realism to keep you hooked.
It mimicked a real grant process, almost too well. If they had put this much effort into building a real business, they probably could’ve been millionaires. Instead, here we are.
And if your heart is already in a place of financial stress or frustration? That’s exactly what makes scams like this so dangerous. They don’t just go after people’s pockets. They go after their desperation. They prey on people trying to better their lives.
So if you’re a small business owner in Trinidad & Tobago, or anywhere else for that matter, please remember this:
- If someone asks you to pay money to receive money, it’s a scam. Real grant programs never ask you to send funds upfront, especially if the money has to be sent to a man named John in Nairobi. (If you ever run into him, ask him if he’s interested in some spices)
- Always verify the source. Look for official websites. Cross-check emails. Reach out directly to the organizations being named. Don’t assume anything.
- Trust your instincts; if something feels off, it probably is.
I did report it. I emailed the official cybercrime unit in Trinidad and sent them everything: the emails, website links, fake Facebook page, even the fake grant application. As of writing this, I haven’t received a reply. (Surprise, surprise.)
P.S. To AFRIPCEN, if you’re reading this…
You really missed out on some good spices.
Have you ever almost fallen for a scam? Share your story in the comments. Subscribe below for alerts on new posts. I post every Wednesday and Sunday.
Thank you for reading.
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