To acquire Samsung’s elusive Galaxy Z TriFold, I resorted to eBay, shelling out $4,399. It’s almost as if Samsung doesn’t want anyone to actually own this device. The thought of powering it on fills me with apprehension.

Attempting to activate it is an exercise in futility. Each time I press “start” to initiate setup, it demands a “USIM,” refusing to move forward without one. Given my mistrust of this phone, inserting a SIM card is not an option. The phone’s persistence is unwavering, leaving us at a deadlock.

Conceptually available in the US since January 30th with a hefty price tag of $2,899, Samsung’s ambitious TriFold has proven nearly impossible to obtain. Unlike other phone launches where review units are typically provided by the manufacturer, Samsung’s PR did not extend this courtesy for the TriFold to The Verge. We resolved to purchase our own, but the device sold out minutes after its initial release.

Weeks passed with futile inquiries to Samsung’s PR about borrowing a unit, while the TriFold remained persistently out of stock. Calls to retail stores yielded no results. Although the phone briefly reappeared in February, it vanished again before we could complete the purchase with our corporate credit card. It’s hard to believe Samsung is moving many of these nearly $3,000 devices within mere minutes. The scarcity appears to be a deliberate strategy, releasing only a handful at a time rather than a genuine shortage.

In desperation, we turned to eBay. Sifting through the sellers without ratings, who somehow wanted to turn around and sell a very expensive phone they just bought for very little profit, we landed on Moderntek. The seller had lots of positive ratings and seemingly a bunch of TriFolds to sell for a cool $4,399 each. (We’re not recommending you buy it here, let alone at all.) It’s worth noting that while the TriFold has been on sale longer in other parts of the world, they’re not, like, abundant anywhere else right now. It’s also listed as out of stock on Samsung’s Korean, Chinese, and Taiwanese websites.

We were promised the phone would arrive in early March; early March came and we discovered it hadn’t even shipped yet. The seller responded quickly to our questions with a confusing message about logistics issues and orders being overlooked. Suddenly, it was slated to arrive within a couple of days — shipping from Scottsdale, Arizona, not Hong Kong, as the original tracking number indicated.

The package arrived on Monday without any fanfare — just a retail box inside a FedEx bubble mailer. Covering the seam on one side of the box were two seals — one in Chinese and a white one on top in English. I’d never seen this kind of label on a phone shipped by the manufacturer. It read: “DO NOT ACCEPT IF SEAL IS BROKEN.” Underneath the sticker, the paper of the box was bubbling. Big “my anti-tamper seal has people asking a lot of questions already answered by my anti-tamper seal” energy.

I cut both seals and opened the box. There it was: the TriFold I’d been so eager to get my hands on. The protective film on the inner screen peeled away easily, and I could see why: bits of hair and crumbs lined the adhesive. I’m pretty sure Samsung doesn’t send phones from the factory like that.

There was another unpleasant surprise waiting for me: When I powered the phone on, it was already set up. On top of that, an app I didn’t recognize prompted a pop-up almost immediately, asking for a long list of sketchy permissions. I hit deny and factory reset the phone. The phone obliged, but now insists that I need a SIM to continue with setup. I can’t find a way to bypass this requirement, and I’ve set up loads of Android phones without a physical SIM. I don’t even have one at the moment anyway (thanks a bunch, eSIM).

So that’s where I am. Do I have a $4,400 phone riddled with malware? My interactions with the seller and some quick Googling suggest it’s not some kind of sophisticated phishing scheme — more likely it’s just some regular ol’ eBay bait-and-switch shenanigans, possibly to hook us for a pricey restocking fee. I’ve asked Samsung to confirm some details about the model I was shipped; I haven’t gotten any answers from them.

This whole cursed endeavor has led me to a single conclusion: Samsung doesn’t actually want to sell TriFolds. If it did, then the company would simply make more of them and sell them. No, Samsung wants us to want a TriFold. The TriFold is aspirational. It makes the $2,000 Z Fold 7 with a single hinge look like a hell of a deal. That is its job; if this phone’s job was to actually exist, then it would. If this were some paradigm-shifting technological achievement, it would be in the hands of every tech reviewer in the country — not a handful of mostly influencers. In the meantime, I’ve got a very expensive paperweight on my desk and a “Money Back Guarantee” request to file with eBay.

Photography by Allison Johnson / The Verge