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Money bags and motivational tapes >> Most people are smart enough to turn Amway salesmen away at the door--but not Mirror contributing editor Jacquie Charlton. Forthwith, a close encounter of the avaricious kind by JACQUIE CHARLTON
I said something like okay, gave him my phone number and we shook hands. He called a few days later and suggested he come over to show me the business plan. Being curious, I agreed. "What we've got here is money. A money generator," he said at the outset. He proceeded to tell me about something called personal business ownership through interactive distribution, drawing a bewildering series of circles and boxes with figures inside. He spoke of large amounts of money and distributors who, depending on their rank, were headily called rubies, emeralds or diamonds. He asked me where in the world I would most like to go, where in the city I would most like to live and what my favourite car was. And then, after three-quarters of an hour, he quietly told me the company was Amway. Encouraged by my polite curiosity, he took out a book called Profiles of Success, "a beautiful, beautiful book," he told me reverently. The book contained a series of profiles of Amway-distributing couples who had made it big, photographed in front of their mansions and luxury cars. "When I'm working and the boss isn't looking, I take out the book and read it," the young Amway distributor said. After allowing me to flip through his book a bit he got up to leave, promising to visit me again and leaving me some tapes to listen to. The tapes--recordings of speeches by eloquent high-ups in the company--were testimonials of people who had been jerked around by banks and creditors, laughed at and called losers by their families, worked like dogs for little money and then become screamingly, triumphantly rich with Amway. >>>
I was getting used to his relentlessly cheerful tone. When I asked him how he was, he would say something like, "Everything's awesome. Everything keeps getting better!" He'd constantly bring "fantastic" or "awesome" new tapes over, and once said that if he threw a party he'd probably play Amway tapes instead of music. At this point, I was beginning to think my distributor's love of Amway was a little too fervent for comfort. But, curious, I accepted his invitation to an Amway rally. My Amway man drove me and another prospective distributor, a computer programmer from Beijing, to an opulent reception hall one night where about 2000 Amway people had gathered to hear an American speaker. He was a dark-suited, middle-aged man with large rings that flashed in the lights. He soon had us eating out of his hand with an account of how Amway had lifted him from overworked schmuck status to millionaire double-diamond. His speech was peppered with references to his luxurious lifestyle, but made in such a way as to appear accessible to all. I had picked up this same democratic attitude from the tapes. For all its disturbing greed, there is no elitism in Amway, : Amway people speak freely of past employment as upholsterers or car stereo installers. The audience loved his speech. Spirits were so high that when the speaker announced that Amway was developing a deluxe line of food-storage containers, a lady next to me whooped with excitement. "Bet you're going to have a tough time sleeping tonight!," the speaker shouted to roars of approval at the end. I declined invitations to other rallies. I began to dread his visits. At a certain point, he was arranging to come over as often as twice a week to discuss such things as the luxury items I would someday buy, heroic Amway salespeople, new motivational tapes and the lists, always the lists, of names of people I could recruit into the organization. I began to hint that I didn't think the direct selling business was for me. One day the young Amway distributor finally picked up on my lack of excitement and came over one day, oddly young-looking and carefree in sweat shirt and jeans, and took back the last of the motivational tapes he had given me. He said, "We'll talk. Soon!," and I never saw him again.
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This May, Amway entered my life. It came in the form of a young man in a suit who smiled and introduced himself to me as I was walking out of the Mirror offices in Old Montreal. "Hi! I'm expanding a business and I'm looking for people to work with," he said cheerfully. "Are you interested in helping me out?"
The young Amway distributor would call me frequently in the next couple of months, suggesting he come over and offer me new tapes and talk some more about Amway. He brought over a brochure on the 1997 Lincoln Continental (the car I told him I liked), and talked lovingly about the luxuries in store for me as an Amway distributor.