It started with a late evening trip to a department store last week where I found myself chatting happily away with a woman about things and not really things in the amount of time it would take old friends to drink a cup of tea. I reckon friends can be made in all sorts of places, and with all the moving around I do, I can always do with some friends. So we spoke, about scrubbing gloves (the best), work, and DC in general. She seemed nice. No red flags, just pleasant conversation. Usually a good sign. We exchanged numbers. She said "Come over for dinner some time. My husband and I would really like to get to know you. We have a business proposal we may share with you. Just come over." And that was it.
Cool.
Fast forward a weekend to the night before my birthday. I had just flown into DC, and I very quickly showered, bought a present, and got a ride over to this new couple's house, hoping for a good chat, and an early night in. Fairly low key.
Everything was going okay as I got there. I stepped in, we started talking about the kinds of things strangers talk about before they're going to be friends, and BAM! Suddenly, somehow, I was being steamrolled by The Business Proposal. (If you think this sentence is abrupt, you are on the right path about how I felt that day, my friend.)
The Business Proposal, as it turned out, was essentially an invitation to be part of a pyramid scheme/business cult. This was not going to be a chill, hang-out-and-chat kind of night. Oh no.
- There is an online store, [name undisclosed] that supplies household products.
- You put down a deposit to be a co-owner of the store and commit to using only their products.
- You make money if you convince people to buy in to the scheme and use their products. Your recruiter made money when you switched to buying those products. And so on, perpetuated by a long line of people who have paid in to the scheme and are forever tied to the idea that their wealth depends on the number of people they can persuade to join this long-winded endeavour.
In other words, a pyramid scheme.
So here I was, at 7 pm, sitting across the kitchen counter from this lady I'd just met who was now frying chimichangas while her husband - who had been on the verge of leaving for a business meeting for at least an hour and a half - explained how whatever they were doing was a GREAT WAY TO MAKE MONEY SITTING DOWN. MONEY = SECURITY AND FREEDOM. YOU WANT TO MAKE MONEY, RIGHT? And also gems like: IF YOU TRIED A RESTAURANT AND LIKED IT, WOULDN'T YOU RECOMMEND IT TO YOUR FRIENDS? and SEE HOW GOOD THEIR WATER TASTES which did absolutely no service to explaining the actual purpose of the business.
I guess money makes some people tick more than others.
After an hour of endless droning, with no less than three "YouknowwhatImean?"s per sentence, said at a pace so rapid and with such little pause after that there was no way to respond or convey any actual feelings other than the Indian head bobble, I was whisked away to a meeting who-knows-where by my new lady 'friend'. Stranger danger much?
Let me clarify: I'm not sure when I agreed to this, or why. Going in to a social engagement after many high activity days, I had just wanted to chat, have dinner, go home, watch TV, sleep, welcome my birthday in gently. Simple things. But there I was, being driven at high speeds (and badly) to a full-blown cult meeting in the middle of a Virginia suburb.
To answer any questions you may have at this point: yes, I contemplated jumping out of the moving car several times. Yes, I considered playing the "I'm tired and I just want to go home" (i.e. the Truth) card. Yes, I wondered how we had gotten here. All these thoughts and more, repeatedly.
But I got there safe and sound somehow, to a carpeted hall in a Crowne Plaza filled with what seemed to be exclusively Gujaratis. In business suits. A six-dollar entry fee later, a man with a heavy Indian accent was at the front, pointing to a very outdated powerpoint to explain the business model. It was like simultaneously being in a time warp and being in college again, this time with lots of Gujarati drones in black. Very strange.
9:15 pm.
The presentation eventually ended, the networking began. I was introduced to a bunch of people who tried to convince me to become part of the community. Great financial opportunity. Great values. Great business sense. Great way to help people. You can do this!
Wait a minute. Great financial opportunity? With yields in maybe 10 years? Great way to help (which kind of) people do what? Moderately well-off Gujaratis, to make more money? America, to buy more things? That's not exactly helping people, it's helping the capitalist machine. Seriously.
I was done. But you know, smile and nod. Or in this case, still the head bobble. On and on for a while. Potbellied Uncles, Aunties with a distracting amount of makeup, their collective children, and way too many clingy, half-assed handshakes.
"You should make an appointment with whoever recruited you in the coming days. Talk to them. Sort out your doubts. Tell them your decision. Don't read all that shit they say online." I was instructed by everyone we talked to. Good training, because they all said exactly the same thing.
Anyway. I managed to get a ride home and at the same time let my new friend down gently ("I'm not at a point in my life where I can commit to this"). As I left, she signed off "Let's hang out sometime, okay?"
Suuure.
