A few weeks ago, a friend from high school posted on her Facebook page that she was looking to launch a business venture that involved life coaching. Well, it just so happens that I am in need of a little life coaching. After 15 months of staying at home to care for my baby, I'm beginning to get the itch to work again. The catch, though, is that I don't want to have to leave my girl in order to go back to work. Yeah, good luck with that, right? I mean, I'm a lawyer by trade. There aren't too many lawyers out there who work exclusively from home. So the question is, How do I find a job that allows me to stay at home with my daughter, but that satisfies my desire to utilize my degree, serve the community, and challenges me intellectually? So I jokingly responded to my friend, "Let me know as soon as you're ready to take clients!" She replied that she actually had something that I might be interested in and offered to Skype with me in order to talk more about it. Cool! Great! Let's Skype!
In the meantime, though, it just so happened that an associate of hers was going to be passing through my area on his way back from a conference. She offered to "introduce" us over Facebook so that we might arrange to meet, so that is what we did. "Be careful," He Who Is Almost as Skeptical As I warned, "I bet he's trying to sell you something." "Nooooo," I balked, "my friend isn't like that. She would never be into something like that. I got the impression this is more of a networking venture. You know--I-know-people-who-you-should-know." So off I went to Starbucks to meet this associate of my friend and his wife.
Inside, I met a young man--all of 25--wearing a suit and collared shirt, no tie. His wife, on the other hand, was dressed very casually in a plaid shirt and pants, her hair pulled back quickly in a ponytail. Clearly, she had not been part of the conference activities. I had no idea what sort of conference they'd been to, but suddenly I wondered if it was some weird religious thing where women are excluded or, worse, one of those obnoxious gatherings of Conservative men where they all blow smoke up each other's asses and pretend like the world would implode without their saving grace. The young man (let's call him Carl) asked me some quick questions about myself to break the ice and then sort of jumped into "business." Clearly, he thought my friend had told me more about this venture than she had, but we were both there to help me figure out how to parlay my skills and interests into a job that I could do from home, right? So I didn't say, "Wait...what is this venture, exactly?" Instead, I told him about my legal background, my work history, my volunteer work...in a nutshell, I conveyed that I wanted to find a work-from-home job that would allow me to (1) write, (2) use my law degree, and/or (3) make a difference in the lives of the people in my community. (In particular, I had mentioned my work with child abuse and neglect cases and that I had discerned that very few people are abusive or neglectful for the sake of hurting their kids, but that they simply don't know any better and that I wanted to help break those cycles.) It was that last part that Carl really honed in on: "Helping people is really important to you. Great! I think we can definitely help you!"
But then he said, "Now, I'm sure you understand that I can't reveal everything to you all at once. It's a system. You learn more as you progress through the system." Shit. HWIAASAI was right. He's trying to sell me something. But I kept a polite smile on my face and nodded at all the appropriate points in the conversation. Carl eventually excused himself to run out to his car to bring me something. When he returned, he placed a box containing two CDs and a book on the table as well as a box of follow-up CDs. Once I was "ready," he would send me a third program to study. I feigned enthusiasm and interest (after all, they had taken time out of their already long trip to stop and meet with me--it was only polite to try to make it worth their wile) and promised to listen to the CDs that evening. Carl and I arranged to follow up by phone the next day.
I left the meeting crestfallen.
Just to be true to my word, I did listen to one of the CDs as I drove around town running errands that afternoon. In total, I listened to about 30 minutes of the first CD. There was absolutely nothing in it that even peaked the tiniest hint of curiosity in me--just some overinflated ego rambling on and on, thinking that he was undeniably clever and charming. The next day, I Googled the group that produced the CDs. It was, of course, a pyramid scheme. This particular pyramid scheme is directed at young up-and-comers who find themselves struggling with credit card or student loan debt (i.e., 90% of the 24- to 40-year-old demographic). You would "subscribe" to monthly lessons in increasing your wealth. You would build a "team," which would further increase your wealth. You might opt to sell certain products (at one point Amway, at another MonaVie), which would increase your wealth even more. In two to five years, you would achieve financial freedom. It was fool-proof.
I had absolutely no interest in jumping on the pyramid.
That afternoon, Carl called to check in with me. I quickly cut to the chase, admitting that I had only listened to 30 minutes of the presentation, but that I hadn't been inclined in the least to listen to more. I politely explained further that I had no interest in any sort of sales scheme or team-building venture. I tried to clarify that I was looking for very specific, very personalized career counseling: Here are your skills, here are the jobs that fit those skills, here is how you move into those positions. "Well, that is exactly where we can help you," Carl assured me. "No, no," I interrupted, "I don't need to learn generalized message points of success: Work hard every day. Get out there--sell yourself. Always be ready with your 'elevator speech.' I have heard all of that before. I need someone to come sit down at my table, counsel me--personally; help me match my skills to a career path--personally; introduce me to a mentor who can set me on the path--personally." Twice more, Carl tried to explain--in very general, impersonal terms--how the system could do all of that for me. When I became more assertive that I didn't think the system could do that, he became defensive. "Oh, I'm sorry! I totally misread you! I thought you wanted to help people! But that's not what you want after all!" he said. I wanted to say, "Look, you punk-ass little twerp, trying to insult me and/or guilt-trip me is not your best sales tactic!" Instead, I very calmly said, "You didn't misread me at all. I do want to help people. That's why I just joined the St. Vincent de Paul Society at my church. I'm sure you don't know what that is, but we go into the homes of the neediest people in the community to take them food and clothing, to sit and visit with them, to counsel them, to show them that someone cares. That's how I like to help people." The unspoken part of that speech is, "I have no interest in 'helping' naive, gullible, cash-strapped young families fall further into debt by promising them that in two to five years, they can relocate to some fairway-backing two story home with a matching pair of Lexus coupes in the garage."
Still, Carl--clearly a rottweiler in his former life--would not let go. Finally, my patience and politeness growing thinner, I said, "If I wanted to make money through some sales pyramid, I could just build the Thirty-One business that I already have. But I don't have any interest in that. I don't enjoy bothering strangers or friends and families to buy my stuff. I don't care if I ever recruit another person so that I can make commissions from their sales. I don't want to work as many hours schlepping bags and totes as I would need to in order to be one of the women who makes six figures a year on Thirty-One. That's not my skill set. That's not what I want to do." (If I'm honest, I only signed up to sell Thirty-One because I could get 11 products for free and enjoy a 25% discount on all the other stuff I "needed.") He gave it one last shot: "But what if you had someone there [i.e., Carl] to help you build your team and to support you all the way?" I asserted that that wouldn't make a difference. Finally, Carl relented, "Well, then I don't think we can help you." I know; I said that 30 minutes ago.
Carl quickly asked me to send his CDs and book back to him (I'm sure he paid a pretty penny for them), wished me luck in finding what I was looking for, and reminded me to trust in God. I bit my tongue to keep from suggesting to him that he get out of this nonsense "business venture" and find himself a good, reliable, work-a-day job to support his young wife and two young children before he finds himself in worse financial condition than the one that led him to this desperate decision in the first place. Instead, I thanked him and wished him luck.
And I'm back to Square One: How do I reconcile my desire to be at home with my baby with my desire to contribute financially to this family, to contribute to my community, and to exercise my brain a little? And how the hell do I correct the impression that I--or any SAHM--am especially suited to fall into a pyramid scheme?
