Flanked by a Ferrari, a Maserati, a Bentley, a Rolls-Royce and a Lamborghini, Dallin Larsen paced the stage, swigging deeply from a bottle in his hand. "I'll tell you what," said the tanned 49-year-old, opening his arms to the 4,000-person crowd, people are "looking for something they can count on, they can depend on, that's constant." The stirring scene would not be out of place at a megachurch revival—except Larsen's event, organized this June in Orlando, Fla., was bent on earning sales rather than salvation. The object of hope was not God but a dark purple fruit juice called MonaVie. The rich syrupy blend of Brazilian açai (pronounced "ah-sigh-ee") berries and 18 other fruits has gained a cult following among those who say it can kill pain, disease and malnutrition. Packaged in wine bottles like the one Larsen gripped onstage, MonaVie retails for around $40 a pop and isn't available in stores. Instead, the Utah-based company tore a pag...
Have you ever opened a Facebook message from a friend you haven't talked to in years ? You're excited to read their message until you notice the copy-and-paste sales pitch they used to try and rope you into their latest multilevel marketing (MLM) scheme—I mean business . Hard nope. Yeah, you had a great weekend (thanks for asking) but no, you really don't want to join their newest venture or buy the latest and greatest magic potion to grow your eyelashes. Your eyelashes are just fine the way God made them. When you hear "multilevel marketing," maybe you think of essential oils, Tupperware, beauty products or even workout programs and fitness drinks. Or maybe you think of that old friend who only reaches out when they've got something new to sell. Bless their heart. (That's passive-aggressive southern speak for "ugh.") But what is MLM, and does this type of business actually make you any money? Let's find out. ...
Eliza Briscoe was told that all she had to do was put up $500 and bring in two additional people who would each contribute the same amount of money. In a little more than four weeks, she would get $4,000 in return. Like so many others being recruited for a "sou-sou," Briscoe was nearly duped into a pyramid scheme. It's hard not to be sold on the altruistic and cultural backstory of the sou-sou, also known as "Susu," "blessing loom" or "gifting circle." Promoters pitch the sou-sou as a common practice among Caribbean and African immigrants as a way to help their businesses grow. Briscoe was told she would be helping other Black folks, some of whom may have lost their jobs because of the coronavirus. "It seemed like it was legal," said the Maryland resident, who reached out to me as part of her due diligence research. "I didn't want to bring anybody in unless I knew for sure, because I didn't want anybody to lose their mo...
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