In an unexpected move, I found myself purchasing Samsung’s elusive Galaxy Z TriFold from eBay, shelling out a staggering $4,399. This hefty price tag seems deliberately engineered by Samsung to keep this device out of the hands of the average consumer. Frankly, I’m hesitant to even power it on.

Every attempt to start the device hits a roadblock. The setup process stalls with a demand for a “USIM,” and without it, I can’t proceed. Trusting this phone with a SIM card feels like a gamble I’m unwilling to take, leaving both me and the phone locked in a stalemate.

Officially, Samsung’s ambitious TriFold has been available in the US since January 30th, priced at $2,899. Yet, acquiring one has proven nearly impossible. In typical scenarios, manufacturers provide review units, but Samsung opted not to extend this courtesy for the TriFold to The Verge. Attempts to purchase the phone were thwarted as it vanished from stock within moments of each release.

Weeks slipped by, filled with futile queries to Samsung’s PR for any available review unit, but the TriFold remained out of reach. Calls to retail stores yielded no results, and a fleeting restock in February saw the phone sell out before corporate credit card details could be finalized. It seems improbable that Samsung is moving large volumes of these $3,000 marvels in mere minutes. More likely, the scarcity is an intentional strategy, releasing only a limited number of devices at a time.

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