So there you are, minding your own business, when some friend, coworker, old classmate, distant cousin, or guy from the gym who definitely uses too much cologne slides into your messages with an exciting business opportunity. It’s exclusive, it’s time-sensitive, and, for reasons that will never be fully explained, it absolutely has to be discussed over coffee. At this point, you have two options: decline immediately or lean into the spectacle, fully aware that you are about to witness capitalism at its most evangelical.
The pitch is always some variation of the same thing: Have you ever dreamed of owning your own business? What would you do if money wasn’t an issue? Don’t you want to retire by the time you’re [insert arbitrarily young age here]? And just like that, you are on the receiving end of a monologue about some mysterious someone who supposedly pulled this off—usually a shadowy figure who “mentored” them and is now living a life of passive-income-fueled leisure.
The recruiters tend to follow a uniform aesthetic: men in flashier-than-necessary business suits, women in cocktail dresses that suggest they are en route to an upscale lounge, not a Starbucks off the interstate. Some opt for a business-casual look, but regardless of style, the effect is the same: THEY WANT TO LOOK SUCCESSFUL. Which is why they seem wildly out of place in a setting where the median customer is wearing sweatpants and debating whether they can afford oat milk.
If you actually go to one of these coffee meetings, try to make them pay for your drink. They won’t want to—after all, they’ve got a dozen more suckers lined up for the day, and they can’t be out here blowing their residual income on venti lattes. But if they do pay, it’s because they’re trying to prime you into feeling indebted to them before they spring the real sales pitch.
The most insidious recruiters work in pairs, often as a married or engaged couple, because society has conditioned us to inherently trust people who are in a stable, loving relationship. They will act like they really want to get to know you, shower you with oddly generic compliments (Wow, you seem really smart!), and maybe even go in for a hug at the end of the meeting because they’ve read some pseudoscience about how physical touch increases compliance.
When asked what they actually do, they’ll say something vague—something about “mentorship” or “entrepreneurship” or “helping people build generational wealth.” They will dodge any attempt at specificity. Instead, they will talk about their own mentors, people whose success they describe with an almost religious fervor. (My mentor owns the most expensive apartment in Seattle!—an actual thing a real person once said.)
They will not discuss the mechanics of their business. They will avoid saying names like Amway, Herbalife, or Primerica, because they know you can Google those things and instantly realize you’re being courted into a financial death spiral. Instead, they will ask if you’ve ever read Rich Dad Poor Dad or The Go-Giver, because apparently no one in a pyramid scheme has ever heard of a book that wasn’t printed in Comic Sans on a purple background.
If you work retail, food service, or any job where your soul feels like it’s actively being extracted from your body, congratulations! You are their prime target. They know you hate your job. They know you want out. And they will dangle the illusion of financial independence in front of you like a cartoon villain holding a dollar bill on a string.
Most recruiters are young, white, and deeply convinced that wearing a suit makes them a mogul. But lately, they’ve started targeting immigrants who might not recognize the scam immediately, because what’s more American than exploiting someone’s belief in the American Dream?
At some point, they will try to preemptively dismantle your skepticism by saying, It’s NOT a pyramid scheme! And if you ask why people say that it is a pyramid scheme, they will claim those are just lies spread by bitter quitters who didn’t hustle hard enough. If you’re feeling extra cruel, ask them why all these hyper-successful business moguls are hosting job interviews at Panera Bread.
Their schedules are predictable: meetings are always on weekends or after 7 PM on weekdays—conveniently, the same hours that people with actual jobs are off work. They’ll spend a lot of time talking about how soul-crushing traditional employment is, despite the fact that they still have day jobs to afford their Starbucks habit.
And if you have a friend who posts nothing but motivational quotes and cryptic status updates about grinding and killing it—yeah, they’re in one of these schemes. Inspirational quotes are basically scripture to pyramid recruiters.
When in doubt, use common sense. If someone really had the secret to unlimited financial success, why would they be sharing it with you? Why is this guy in a sharkskin suit conducting business meetings at a Dunkin’ Donuts? Why is he trying so hard to convince you that he’s not running a scam? Why won’t he just pay for your damn coffee?
No one is offering something for nothing. Stay skeptical.
