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You don’t need me to tell you that money’s tight nowadays. Between inflation and holiday shopping, it’s not easy being the little man. Every dollar counts! And that is why, dear consumer, I am here to save you from some of the biggest scams that lurk behind the pleasant exteriors of retail stores in Harvard Square and Boston at large. After falling victim to these scams in the past year (or years), I have vowed to do everything in my power to spare my fellow consumer the emotional anguish that is the inevitable result of such treachery. One note on my list: It is devoid of small businesses. In my experience, I have found that it is only chain establishments who prowl throughout the Square, seeking the ruin of buyers’ souls.

10. Milk Bar, Harvard Square

I begin with a business that no longer plagues the Square with its exorbitantly priced delicacies. And yet, the specter of its scammery lingers. Ten dollars for a slice of cake? I think not. Under the chic, hot pink sign of this den of dessert deception, there was nothing sweet to be found. I extend much love and gratitude to Joe’s Pizza for occupying this once-haunted space with an honest business and serving a wonderful, reasonably priced slice.

9. &pizza, Harvard Square

Another shuttered business makes the list. I only purchased their pizza once (with a coupon, at that) and it was perfectly adequate. &pizza’s biggest sin? Sharing a retail space with Milk Bar. No wall divided the two establishments, so while ordering your trendy pizza, you had no choice but to look at Milk Bar’s array of pre-packaged sweets and mourn the ten dollars that you had wasted on a slice of red velvet cake denser than a brick. Some may say being deemed guilty by association is unfair. I call it best practice.

8. CVS Pharmacy, Harvard Square

There’s not much to say about the Square’s premier 24-hour grift shop. Everything inside is roughly two dollars more than your local CVS and the line for the pharmacy rivals that of Space Mountain on a busy day in Disney. Textbook scam.

7. Ben and Jerry’s, Harvard Square

A small (and I mean small) ice cream at Ben and Jerry’s will run you $7.50 at this scoop shop, whose free love aesthetic certainly doesn’t come cheap. You can buy a pint of Ben and Jerry’s for under seven dollars at any grocery store (including the Harvard Square CVS), so why pay more for a smaller portion served with a weird wooden spoon? Do yourself a favor and go to Lizzy’s instead. That place rocks.

6. Potbelly Sandwich Shop, Boston Logan Airport Terminal C

Don’t get me wrong, I love Potbelly. The place makes a mean Italian sub. But the Logan Airport location is like the wicked twin of the Potbelly we all know and love. On a recent trip to my beloved ancestral homeland (Ireland), I was dismayed to find this location missing at least half of their usual toppings. Worse than that, I was charged $18 for a large sandwich. I informed the cashier that surely there must have been some mistake; I was only buying one sandwich, after all! When she told me that the price was correct, I could see a glimmer of pity shining in her eyes as I swiped my mother’s debit card like a helpless fool. No one wins in the world of scamming, the scammer nor the scamee.

5. Dunkin’ Donuts, Boston Logan Airport Terminal C

Similar problem to Potbelly, just a tad closer to TSA. If you are used to paying $3.50 for your medium iced coffee, get ready to pay double while the impatient corporate type behind you breathes down your neck, itching to bark out their order and board a flight to Newark. The only thing that makes this Dunkin’ worse than Potbelly is their refusal to participate in the Dunkin’ Rewards program. If I’m going to be spending the money, you better give me the points!

4. Dunkin’ Donuts, South Station

A very nuanced difference exists between the scammery of the Logan Dunkin’ and the South Station Dunkin’. They each assess a surcharge for operating in travel outposts. And yet, there is something more presumptuous and upsetting about this location’s price hike, considering the utter lack of cosmopolitanism that characterizes the train station around it. The place is filled with pigeons, smells like grease, and is forever enveloped in a dense haze. South Station is no place to be charging extra. If anything, that Dunkin’ should be paying customers to roll the dice with their kiosk coffee.

3. Any Business in Boston’s Seaport, Seasonal Pop-Ups Included

Boston’s Seaport is a bastion of modern architecture and trendy shops. It is also a cesspool of scammery. Behind the indistinguishable glass facades of its many restaurants and stores lie business owners waiting to charge you thirty bucks for a burger or five hundred for a gym membership. Come holiday season, the Snowport rolls into town like a modern-day circus of consumer exploitation. The people who operate the stands in the Snowport seem lovely and their trinkets divine, but unfortunately they toil on behalf of an odious regime. That is, everyone except the people selling the eight-dollar hot chocolate; That drink is worth every penny.

2. Cambridge Queen’s Head Pub, Annenberg Basement

I take no pleasure in targeting my own school. I tried to love the Queen’s Head, I really did; but I was let down one too many times. Last semester, my friends and I repeatedly undertook the foolish task of trying to attend their weekly trivia night, only to discover on over three occasions that the trivia was not happening as scheduled. The excuse was always nebulous and the rescheduled date was invariably, “tomorrow, I’d say.” Tomorrow never came. In the wake of such disappointment, I had no choice but to start the grassroots Twitter campaign, #ClownsHead, which garnered astounding support and taught me the power of one voice to change the world. I hear reports that the Queen’s Head cleaned up their act this semester, but I will never be able to confirm. The first rule of being scammed: Never return, never forget.

1. Amorino Gelato Al Naturale, Harvard Square

The scam to end all scams. Scamorino’s. These are just two of the names used to refer to Harvard Square’s most treacherous mercantile establishment. My heart breaks every time I pass by, watching unsuspecting tourists walking inside to order a cone of gelato in the shape of a flower and proceed to remortgage their homes in order to afford it. It was here that I, as a starry-eyed freshman, played the part of the innocent lamb, wandering into the open jaws of the wolf. I paid upwards of eight dollars for a cup of gelato that I initially mistook for a free sample. Surrounded by faux-Italian furnishings, I practically fainted. It was at that moment that I decided to rededicate my life to delivering others from the pain I was then experiencing. In many ways, I owe Scamorino’s a debt of gratitude. In many other ways, I owe them a one-star Google review.

—Outgoing film executive Brady M. Connolly can be reached at brady.connolly@thecrimson.com. Follow him on X for up-to-date consumer reports about the ever-evolving nature of local scammery.