Step into the Way Back Machine, set it to late 1999. Senior year of high school, living life, having fun, driving around in the Space Van. Good times were had by all. I was in Williamsport, PA, and my friend Tom Smith lived in Mansfield, one hour to the north, so we rarely saw each other during the week. I was excited when he called me on a Tuesday afternoon, with the following message, the gist of which I remember, but as for the exact wording, I'm paraphrasing this an entire presidential administration later - "Dylan, I've got a ride down to Williamsport tonight, so I can bring you that cable you need. Also, the ride is with a family friend, and he's starting this business involving computers and the Internet, I'm not sure about the details, but he wants us both to go to the meeting, and he'll buy us dinner afterwards."
So, hell yeah, I met Tom at a hotel downtown that evening. The marquee reads, "Welcome Market America" but that doesn't register with me till later. We end up with "Hi, my name is" name tags and are seated in a pretty full conference room, with probably about one hundred fifty people. I'm curious as to what the nature of this "computer business" is. We see home cleaning products displayed on a table in the front of the room. We begin to get suspicious. The program starts. I don't remember many of the details, but it was a multi-level marketing scheme. There was an up-front cost of a few hundred dollars, I believe, and you were supposed to sell a few hundred dollars worth of Market America products each month. Of course, the products were of such great value and quality that you would probably use nearly that much each month, just for yourself!
We were supposed to be impressed by the fantastic products we would have access to once we joined Market America, and blown away by the next part of the presentation - we could all become fabulously wealthy by joining. Once we had joined and (I think) sold our first month's worth of products, it would be time for us to start recruiting. The first, and most important step, was to quickly recruit your "001" and "002." These two people would start building the pyramid, er, prosperity triangle, below you. This is when the money would begin rolling in, generated "by the system."
About this time, I did some mental math and then leaned over to Tom. I told him that a plan that required you to recruit two people could survive a maximum of twenty-eight generations of "001s" and "002s" before we ran out of men, women, and children in America. Obviously, I was ignoring the foreign market, but I was having none of this plan. Tom, for his part, liked my line of reasoning, but had done some easier math. He was seventeen still, and couldn't possibly sign a contract.
Still, he needed a ride home, and we both wanted free dinner, so we stuck it out without causing a scene. An hour or so later, it was over, Tom's "friend" (Was his name Bob? I'll call him Bob) took us to Perkins, along with a local guy in his early twenties, wearing a Troy Vincent Eagles jersey. I think, but am not sure, that the plan was for Tom and I to be this guy's "001" and 002." Bob wanted to know what we thought. He seemed excited. Vincent was excited too. Tom and I were uneasy, our food wasn't there yet, we didn't want to piss anyone off. One of us said something like, "Well...I'm not sure..." Bob and Vincent jumped in, repeatedly telling us about all the money we could be making very, very soon. We did like making money, didn't we? Well, of course we did. (For the record, this is where the "computer business" came in. Bob knew Tom and I "did computer stuff" and thought we could sell our Market America products online.) I tried to ascertain exactly how the system created wealth, after being assured that you most certainly did not take advantage of the people below you. Bob's answer for that one, no matter how I asked it, was some subtle variation on, "You see, the nature of the system is that it creates wealth." This tactic was going nowhere.
Our food came. This was a highlight of the evening. Sure, food is great for eating, but these particular greasy scrambled eggs also provided us a respite from the "conversation." That break was over a few minutes later when Vincent dropped this one on us - "You know, if you aren't sure about the program, you should really come to the next presentation. I didn't really like it at first either, but then I went to three or four more, and I started thinking about how I have a baby to support now, I'm going to need to make some real money, and I signed up."
The mind recoils in horror. This guy, with a child, no less, kept going to Market America presentations until he brainwashed himself into joining. Stunned silence from our side of the table. I looked into drowning myself in my orange juice. Tom, I think, wanted to get out of there nearly enough to try faking a case of leprosy. Bob finally rescued us, asking when we would be signing up. Tom, done with his meal, ready to go home said, "I don't think we'll be joining. I'm not eighteen, and Dylan's good at math, so this just doesn't work for either of us." I thanked him for the dinner. My understanding is that it was a quiet ride home.
