How I Didn't Get Rich Quick With Amway
by Joe Acton
So the phone rings and it's an old business pal who says he's got an opportunity he's looking at and would I take a look. Sure, says me, what is it? Well, it was pretty complicated and hard to explain over the phone so, he suggested, how about if me and my wife come over to his house and he'll lay it out for me.
You see, when you get to be my age your hair falls out, you fatten up and your brain goes on sabbatical. Right about here I should have said something like, "Look, pal, if its too complicated to tell me what it is over the phone I'm probably too stupid to understand it in person, so you should probably call your next best business advisor and ask Gates what he thinks about it."
But instead I said something clever like, "Uh — well, yeah — what time?"
In fishing this is called rising to the bait. In business it's called a market ploy. And on the streets of America, you're referred to as Chump Change.
Well, my Future Former Friend said it was complicated — and he's a well known businessman in his own right — so I figured, maybe I'd better drag out an old biz book and brush up on vertical integration, marginal cost curves, market penetration techniques — like that. After all, he asked me for advice — don't want to let him down or seem dumb.
Geez, ain't it amazing the things you'll do when you think someone else thinks you're as smart as you think you are?
So there we are, sitting in this guy's living room discussing how everybody wants to be in charge of their own life, have a little extra money to get by on, put some away for the kid's college, retire early, live the good life, travel in style, rub shoulders with landed gentry, and like that.
It suddenly occurred to me no one had mentioned anything about the product or industry, we were all just sitting around talking about America's favorite pastime: how to get rich without really trying or groveling at the alter of commerce.
It really didn't start to sink in until he wheeled out the chalkboard. Now how many people do you know that have a full-sized chalkboard living in their family room?
Somewhere along the line we stopped talking about him and his "opportunity" and started talking about "us" — like we were all in this together. For just a fleeting moment I wanted to ask if "us" meant he was kicking in for my kid's college tuition but by that time we were well down the road to "building your own organization."
Basically, my Future Former Friend was going to have me selling soap for my Financial Future, which, I would soon discover was to be my Former Financial Future, least I wind up with a handful of my own Future Former Friends.
Actually, selling soap was not the trick — the real trick was to get a bunch of other dummies, like me, to sell the soap for you while corralling a bunch of their soon to be future former friends to sell it for them — while they built their own organization to sell for them. And so on and so on and so on, until America was floating in a sea of soap selling chalkboard junkies.
So I served up the now burning question, "Why would anyone buy soap from me when they can get 47 different kinds and sizes from any store in town." 15-love.
Forehand return, "Because our soap is better for your clothes and the environment." 15-15.
Volley, "Yeah, well, I ain't washing the environment and they all say their soap is better for my clothes." 30-15.
Lob to the rear, "Our soap is more concentrated than other kinds of soap, so the customer doesn't have to use as much with each load." 30-30.
Backhand to the corner, "Why would I want to sell a soap that the customer doesn't need much of and won't use up as fast as other soaps?" 40-30.
Crossing smash, "It cost's more to buy so you make more profit on each sale so you can buy more of the other products we have to sell to the customer." Deuce.
Forehand down the sideline, "How do I sell them other products if I only see them once in a solar eclipse to sell them more concentrated soap?" Advantage Acton.
Ace on the service, "By inviting them to your home for sales meetings and making them part of your selling organization." Deuce.
Backspin on the serve, "If I do that then they can buy the soap at wholesale and I won't get as much profit." Loss of point for capricious use of logic, Ad-out.
Two handed smash at the net, "If they become part of your organization and build their own groups then you get a cut of what their groups sell." Game, set and match, goes to Future Former Friend.
Obligatory McEnroe temper tantrum, "Oh, yeah, well, I ain't got enough friends willing to sell soap to each other to make enough money to buy the dumb chalkboard."
So, I did like we all did when our friends pitched us on one of these schemes: told him I'd think about it, hoped it was a phase he was going through, and he would forget about my financial independence. Unless, of course, he gets rich on it. Then I was with him all the way.
Sometimes it goes on like this for days and days. And then it gets worse.
by Joe Acton
So the phone rings and it's an old business pal who says he's got an opportunity he's looking at and would I take a look. Sure, says me, what is it? Well, it was pretty complicated and hard to explain over the phone so, he suggested, how about if me and my wife come over to his house and he'll lay it out for me.
You see, when you get to be my age your hair falls out, you fatten up and your brain goes on sabbatical. Right about here I should have said something like, "Look, pal, if its too complicated to tell me what it is over the phone I'm probably too stupid to understand it in person, so you should probably call your next best business advisor and ask Gates what he thinks about it."
But instead I said something clever like, "Uh — well, yeah — what time?"
In fishing this is called rising to the bait. In business it's called a market ploy. And on the streets of America, you're referred to as Chump Change.
Well, my Future Former Friend said it was complicated — and he's a well known businessman in his own right — so I figured, maybe I'd better drag out an old biz book and brush up on vertical integration, marginal cost curves, market penetration techniques — like that. After all, he asked me for advice — don't want to let him down or seem dumb.
Geez, ain't it amazing the things you'll do when you think someone else thinks you're as smart as you think you are?
So there we are, sitting in this guy's living room discussing how everybody wants to be in charge of their own life, have a little extra money to get by on, put some away for the kid's college, retire early, live the good life, travel in style, rub shoulders with landed gentry, and like that.
It suddenly occurred to me no one had mentioned anything about the product or industry, we were all just sitting around talking about America's favorite pastime: how to get rich without really trying or groveling at the alter of commerce.
It really didn't start to sink in until he wheeled out the chalkboard. Now how many people do you know that have a full-sized chalkboard living in their family room?
Somewhere along the line we stopped talking about him and his "opportunity" and started talking about "us" — like we were all in this together. For just a fleeting moment I wanted to ask if "us" meant he was kicking in for my kid's college tuition but by that time we were well down the road to "building your own organization."
Basically, my Future Former Friend was going to have me selling soap for my Financial Future, which, I would soon discover was to be my Former Financial Future, least I wind up with a handful of my own Future Former Friends.
Actually, selling soap was not the trick — the real trick was to get a bunch of other dummies, like me, to sell the soap for you while corralling a bunch of their soon to be future former friends to sell it for them — while they built their own organization to sell for them. And so on and so on and so on, until America was floating in a sea of soap selling chalkboard junkies.
So I served up the now burning question, "Why would anyone buy soap from me when they can get 47 different kinds and sizes from any store in town." 15-love.
Forehand return, "Because our soap is better for your clothes and the environment." 15-15.
Volley, "Yeah, well, I ain't washing the environment and they all say their soap is better for my clothes." 30-15.
Lob to the rear, "Our soap is more concentrated than other kinds of soap, so the customer doesn't have to use as much with each load." 30-30.
Backhand to the corner, "Why would I want to sell a soap that the customer doesn't need much of and won't use up as fast as other soaps?" 40-30.
Crossing smash, "It cost's more to buy so you make more profit on each sale so you can buy more of the other products we have to sell to the customer." Deuce.
Forehand down the sideline, "How do I sell them other products if I only see them once in a solar eclipse to sell them more concentrated soap?" Advantage Acton.
Ace on the service, "By inviting them to your home for sales meetings and making them part of your selling organization." Deuce.
Backspin on the serve, "If I do that then they can buy the soap at wholesale and I won't get as much profit." Loss of point for capricious use of logic, Ad-out.
Two handed smash at the net, "If they become part of your organization and build their own groups then you get a cut of what their groups sell." Game, set and match, goes to Future Former Friend.
Obligatory McEnroe temper tantrum, "Oh, yeah, well, I ain't got enough friends willing to sell soap to each other to make enough money to buy the dumb chalkboard."
So, I did like we all did when our friends pitched us on one of these schemes: told him I'd think about it, hoped it was a phase he was going through, and he would forget about my financial independence. Unless, of course, he gets rich on it. Then I was with him all the way.
Sometimes it goes on like this for days and days. And then it gets worse.