I donated to the National Police and Troopers Association on a cold call. Now I get up to 10 spam calls a day.

• I got an unsolicited call from a supposed "police association" and donated $25 to its "cause."
• Since then, I've received between five and 10 calls a day from vague "organizations" demanding money.

My residential street in the New York City suburbs has become a rat run — a shortcut that bypasses a junction where, until relatively recently, you could turn right on red. You can save yourself approximately 25 seconds if you tear along our road at 30 miles an hour instead.

I was incensed by the number of speeding cars that narrowly missed little kids as they walk to school on the road that, frustratingly, lacks sidewalks.

So I dropped into our local police station to raise my concerns. The desk sergeant radioed a cop who, as it turned out, had been monitoring our street for six months.

I made the donation because I wanted to show my appreciation to the cops who'd helped me

The officer showed up. We discussed the pros and cons of speed bumps and other traffic calming measures. He gave me the email of someone who headed a committee about traffic issues in our neighborhood. I felt heard. I left the station with a spring in my step.

Two hours later, by sheer coincidence, I got a cellphone call from a man who said he represented "the police association." I'd received unsolicited calls about this type of thing before — I'd usually say I was too busy to talk. However, after my positive experience at the police station, it felt only right to listen this time.

The man said any donation would help families of police officers killed or injured in the line of duty. "It's fate," I thought. I told him the story about my visit to the police and that I was grateful for how kind and accommodating they were about my concerns when they probably had bigger fish to fry.

"Of course, I'll donate," I said, reaching for my purse.

He transferred me to a "secure transaction line," and I donated $25 via credit card. I confirmed my cell number and gave my full name and address.

Big mistake. The next day, I received a call from the "Association of Professional Firefighters." They wanted a donation, too. "I'm sorry, but I already gave money yesterday to the police association," I said. "I can't afford much more — at least for a while," I said. The caller piled it on thick. "Firefighters always get the short end of the stick compared to the police," he said rather aggressively.

No good deed goes unpunished. I've received up to 10 calls a day from vague organizations "representing" cops, firefighters, and veterans. I've Googled them. Watchdogs like the Federal Communications Commission and the Better Business Bureau have found many of them to be scams. It seems my contact information has been sold time and again. I've blocked number after number. I've registered with the FCC's Do Not Call List and downloaded Verizon's Call Filter.

But the calls keep coming. It's like playing whack-a-mole. The area codes will often indicate a place relatively nearby, usually within New York State. The FCC noted that the scammers often use "local" numbers, so you think they could be important. The screen will occasionally say "Caller Unknown" — the same thing that comes up when my kids' school or pediatrician calls me.

You might ask why I bother to pick it up. After all, if the number isn't in my contacts list, isn't it likely to be spam? But in my job as a journalist, I field calls from potential sources across the US. It's too much of a risk not to answer.

Yesterday, I asked for more information from the caller representing the "National Police and Troopers Association." He swerved each question before hanging up. "You have been kicked from this conference," a robotic voice told me.

For my amusement, I told one scammer that I was a witch and had put a hex on him for calling me up. He called back five minutes later, begging me to remove the curse.