It started with hope.
Victorian end-of-terrace, bought in 2021. The kitchen? A cramped, blue-painted disaster zone. I wanted space. I wanted light. I pulled from an inheritance pot and hired Mila & Me to build a side-return extension.
As a homes journalist, I thought I knew the game.
I didn’t.
The Hunt
MyBuilder yielded nine names.
Three got to visit. The favorite—let’s call him the charmer—came with a surveyor. He was assertive, friendly, expensive enough to be legit, cheap enough to be competitive. The quote landed on headed paper, detailed to the nth degree.
I dug deeper. Which? reviews. Photos. A decade of good work. Green flags everywhere. 🚩 (Ironically.)
Then the phone call.
The Money
“Send us the deposit.”
He wanted a third. £13,00. Credit and debit.
I transferred it. I trusted the process.
Work was slated for late summer 2022.
Nobody came.
Day one.
Silence. A woman answered the phone. She apologized. The last job had run long. My guard lowered—naturally. Then day two. Nothing. Day three. The phone line died.
Panic isn’t a feeling; it’s a physical blow to the stomach.
Google Reviews turned red. New posts flooded in. “They didn’t show.” “Foundations half-dug and abandoned.” Walls stood broken, empty promises in concrete form.
The Fallout
I called Action Fraud. Crying helps nothing.
They gave me a reference number.
I called NatWest. I waited.
Then came the internet. A Facebook thread. A WhatsApp group that swelled to 100 people. Essex, Kent, Herts. We were all prey to a “hijacking” scam. Someone had taken the reins of a reputable company name and milked it for every last penny. They strung us along, then ghosted. Empty offices. Dead phones. Over a million pounds stolen.
The police got a spreadsheet.
The criminals got away with it.
The Rescue (Sort Of)
Months of tears.
Then: relief.
NatWest reimbursed me under Section 75. Paying a slice of that £13k on credit saved my bacon. If the seller fails to deliver, the bank picks up the tab for purchases between £100 and £0,300.
The scammers likely knew this. They wanted me to pay with credit. They counted on the bank eating the cost while they vanished with the rest. A “victimless” crime? Don’t buy that line. The emotional toll is real. The time wasted is real.
I hired another builder. But first, the reckoning.
What I Would Change
- Chase the upsells. That “grand idea” for a downstairs toilet? A trap. He wanted to expand the scope. Bigger scope means bigger deposit. More leverage for them. Less security for you.
- The deposit trap. Citizens Advice suggests you buy your own materials if you’re nervous. Own the bricks, they say. Otherwise? Never more than 25%. Never cash. Ever. Paying 33% upfront is suicide in this economy.
- Check Companies House. It’s free. Mila & Me had new directors. That isn’t illegal. But it is data. Dig in. See who’s really holding the keys now.
What Got It Right
- Don’t trust one source. Word of mouth lies. Business cards are printed paper. Cross-reference everything. Social media detective work is mandatory.
- Three quotes. Get three. Itemized. With VAT. Pick the middle one. Too cheap? It’s a bait. An estimate is a guess. A quote is a promise. Know the difference.
- That credit card trick. The scammer suggested it to get the bank involved? Fine. But Section 75 made the bank liable. Always pay a few quid on plastic for big jobs. It’s not insurance. It’s a parachute.
The Aftermath
Was I unlucky?
Absolutely.
Did I do my due diligence? Yes.
Does it matter? Not much, when the other player is a ghost.
There are good builders out there. Really good ones. But you have to ask the awkward questions. You have to probe the background. If it feels off, it is off. Listen to your gut. And if they ghost you? Report it. Nag them. Don’t let them think they slipped by without a trace.
Because someone, somewhere, is still waiting for their kitchen. ⏳
