Thursday
After a long day of medium-hard labor— walking on redundantly themed white tile, and unboxing the same big box into the same small box— it was time for the most glorious moment of the day. The walk towards the time clock is arguably better than actually clocking out. With each step, the excitement grows. The sweat-stained cotton shirt shows your manager how hard you worked, and your coworkers how long your shift. I let the store know that I was headed out, and I quickly shut off my walkie to avoid any last-second requests from managers who might try to get their money’s worth. At the time clock, there’s a small line of employees who relate only in their job title and their exhaustion.
It’s generally customary to engage in small talk by the time clock while you wait for your turn to type in your eight-digit identification number. These conversations almost always go the same, though not in content, but in form. Generally, people express their excitement about being off tomorrow or painfully admit their frustration about having to come back in only a couple of hours. Today was strikingly different. One of my coworkers, nearly a friend, explains to me that he was pitched to go to an event for business-minded individuals seeking new opportunities. Excited by this proposition, I agreed to go with him, and I invited a close friend to make us a solid group of three. Being that today was Thursday, thankfully we only needed to wait until tomorrow for this opportunity meeting.
May 6th, 2021
Friday
We found ourselves at the back of another line of people. This long line of people related only in their desire to look rich and in their useless attempt to hide their desperation. Their outfits had the jarring blend of Walmart garments with designer accessories that painfully resembled the contrast between where they were and where they wanted to be. Through the murmuring of people waiting in line, I turned to someone I didn’t know and asked, “You have any idea what this opportunity is about?”
“Yea, you’ll just have to see, it’s hard to quickly explain but it’s life changing.”
With slightly raised eyebrows and a smug smirk on my face I replied, “ah, i see.”
The doors opened and high energy rap music buzzed through. The booming bass made the atmosphere nearly viscous. Cutting in between each boom of the bass was a crystal-clear euphoric melody that ended its phrase right on time with each boom. We were ushered into the room and directed towards empty tables that sat 4 to 6 people each. Once we sat down, I noticed that the layout of the room felt oddly familiar. In front of the sea of faces, there was a group of 5 people in front of a screen that read: eMarketsLive Academy. I was shocked to see how many baby strollers were in between each table—new parents. But it was the back of the room that was the most interesting. At every exit door was at least one guy with his arms crossed in front of him smiling only with his teeth.
As the music bubbled down, a guy of medium height in a bright blue suit with a powder white turtleneck stormed to the front. I could see his bedazzled loafers, fresh haircut, and aviator gold framed glasses that only serial killers wear. With a loud and painful hoarseness: “Raise your hand if you want to add value to your life this year; raise your hand if you’re ready to expand your horizons and elevate your financial altitude.” As if the room were coded machines, 95% of the hands in the room went up. Me and one of my friends shot glares at each other in disbelief. Then from what seemed like nowhere, one of the room monitors came up behind us and said with a fabricated nice voice, “Hey bros— next time, let’s bring some paper and pen— this knowledge is priceless.” Reflexively one of my eyebrows perked up and just before I could fire back, he had already slid to the back of the room.
The presentation slide clicked forward and these words animated onto the screen: “Forex Trading Education Software”. Just as teachers would, the Forex Speaker went on to explain and provide useful examples to show students— I mean, future individual business owners— how the Foreign Exchange Markets operate. Abruptly, like a staccato note at the end of a measure of sheet music, the Forex Speaker halted his lecture with: “Most people have a television in this room, right? I see people Netflix-and-chill, and play video games every night afterwork, but how many people in this room tell–a–vision?” The Forex speaker was to a teacher what a real cheeseburger is to a cheeseburger made of perfectly cut slabs of wood. The forms of the two cheeseburgers are strikingly similar, but the bites are radically different.
Finally, the opportunity: “COMPENSATION.” “If you take the knowledge from us and apply it to your life, you’ll end up here— at the top of this chart and at the front of this room.” Inside every row of the purposefully square chart was a rank title and a monthly income associated with it. If you recruit 3 people, you’re ranked F100. If each person you recruit “introduces 3 more people to the business”, then you rank up to F200. Seem easy? Just wait for it. To make 5k a month (60k/yr pretax and before business expenses), individual business owners need 2 F200 members and 1 F100 member with a minimum group volume of 3,000f per F200 downline. Wait. What are we supposed to be selling? What is group volume? How is it measured? What if people leave the “business”? Does it cost money to join? Questions like these ran back and forth in my mind. “Guys, what if I told you that you could make 10k a month selling our Forex Trading Education Software? Not only could you trade money on exchange markets using our service and brokerage, but you could also make money selling our service to your friends and family—how does that sound? All of this would only cost you 200$ a month.” From this point on in the presentation they continued to harp on the 6-figure earner benchmark as the golden goose everyone should chase after. “Being a 6-figure earner in this company will change your life. You want to be able to retire your parents— right, or right? There are people in this room who have seen their parents work all their lives at dead-end jobs— don’t you want to give them financial freedom?”
Then came the testimonials. Everyone at the front of the room lined up and starting from left to right each person told their story.
The first: “You know, I used to be sitting in your seat…”
The second: “I was flat broke…”
Third: “I dropped out of college…”
Fourth: “I just got fired from my job…”
Fifth: “And, and I can’t even lie to y’all I was skeptical, just like I know some of y’all are right now; I thought this was some kind of scam. But I realized that it was my mindset that was holding me back. Do any of y’all even know what S.C.A.M. stands for?
Still Cooking At McDonald’s,
Still Chilling At Mom’s, and
Still Can’t Attain Money.”
It felt like I was watching a group of people sharing their own version of the same mad libs sheet. The baby blue suited Forex Speaker came forward again, peppered us with a few more poetically motivational lines that were simultaneously meaningful and meaningless, and with sweat across his forehead and a hoarseness from his voice he shouted, “WHO IS READY TO JOIN THE TEAM?!” The music slowly seeped out of the speakers and it gradually made the room float again. Like sharks that taste blood in the water, representatives from the “team” surrounded us with their teeth-bearing smiles and sweat stained designer clothes.
With anxiety-odored breath, the guy who talked with us before the event opened asked us, “So guys, how did you feel about the presentation?” After a loosely positive answer, everyone who surrounded us pressed inward. Feeling awkward, I stepped back into the guy behind me and everyone shifted around us into a semi-circle. Into the panel of objection obliterators I asked, “Can’t I just trade Forex on my own? Aren’t there free options that I don’t have to pay $200 a month for?”
“Yea man totally,” The Chief obliterator directly in front of us reported back. “There are free options out there to learn Forex; but our service saves you time, gives you the tools to practice, and presents you with an additional money-making opportunity.” He counted on his fingers, a sort of visual aid, but it was hard to tell if it was for me or him. “Before joining this company, I tried to teach myself Forex, but I couldn’t stop blowing up accounts. The YouTube videos online only go so far and in many cases the guys making them ultimately want you to buy their course too.” By this point, the others in the semi-circle were all nodding their heads in sync. “But once I joined this company, not only did I get great instruction from world-class traders, I also got a community of like-minded growth-oriented individuals.” I nodded with the corners of my mouth pulled downwards as if to signal that I acknowledged his answer. Then in rhythm, I followed up with, “I don’t think I would even have time for this, I go to school full time, work part time, trade stocks on the side, and I’m really trying to get into writing.” He reached into his pocket and pulled out his phone. A couple of steps into our personal space, he and the others closed in again. He pointed to his phone and showed us the app that the company uses and explained to us the differences between the stock market and forex markets.
After his lecture, the Chief obliterator showed us some of his winning trades where he pulled in serious amounts of money. Trade after trade it seemed that he was making more and more money. It looked like he couldn’t lose. From the bottom of his chest, he horned out: “I went from knowing nothing to trading with 5 figure accounts! With this opportunity, I will be able to retire my parents, buy nice cars, take luxury trips, and own that home in the gated community!” Changing screens and with his phone facing upward, I saw at the top of the screen in small red block print: DEMO ACCOUNT. My eyes darted away in disbelief, and I spotted his green blemished skin from the small stacks of gold bracelets oddly placed around both of his wrists. Like a camera settling into focus and the frame becoming clear, I began to see even the most minute falsified representations of status and success. I cleared my throat from the shock, and I quickly gave my friends the wide-eyed stare and a covert neck scratch. They got the hint; so we began the process of pulling ourselves out of their salesman death grip, objection finger by objection finger. After volleying the conversation back and forth and with neither side giving up, I could tell that we were wearing them out. I decided to take the initiative of walking and talking towards the exit door at the back of the large room. As we punched through the exit door, the salesman death grip finally loosened and they fell back into the hotel. Outside, the moonlight glared off of the jet-black asphalt; the air was clear, refreshing, and the sound of silence was cleansing.
May 7th 2021