Unsolicited Takes

Aside from the United States’ mishandling of the coronavirus, the Fyre Festival (2017) is the biggest shitshow of my time. This sorry excuse for a music festival landed Fyre Media CEO Billy McFarland behind bars for two separate counts of fraud. McFarland and business partner, Ja Rule, promised a once-in-a-lifetime experience amongst up-and-coming talents, self-proclaimed influencers, and ~5,000 well-endowed millenials. Festival goers shelled out tens of thousands of (nonrefundable) dollars for two “transformative” weekends in the Bahamas, “on the boundaries of the impossible.”

Fyre’s marketing team was unmatched. People bought tickets faster than you can say “Bush did 9/11.” The promotional video featured Hollywood’s A-listers having a grand ‘ole time on an island once owned by Pablo Escobar. The website advertised eco-friendly domes and luxury villas, but as one festival attendee tweeted, “There (were) no villas, just a disaster tent city.” Attendees were also promised a culinary experience, so imagine the shock that befell the masses when festival staff passed out (…cheese?) sandwiches and two-ingredient salads. For me, it’s the influencers who leveraged their fame to promote for an event that never happened. (Kendall Jenner paid out $90K in settlements, though $90K is but a slap on the wrist to a family whose collective net worth exceeds $1 billion!)

“That’s not fraud. That is, uh, I would call that false advertising.”

– Ja Rule

No event of such scale unfolds perfectly to plan. Even when shit hits the fan, one thing is certain: The show goes on. But the Fyre Fiasco is one of two times that the show did NOT go on, the other time being Zoey 101’s tragic ending following Jamie Lynn Spear’s unexpected pregnancy. Fyre sold tickets to more people than they could house, and the resulting chaos that ensued is best described as a “Lord of the Flies-esque” free-for-all. As night fell, festivalgoers fell victim to mass hysteria, and then came the lootin’ and hollerin.’ And if the age of imperialism taught us anything, it’s Loot Or Be Looted.

Watch FYRE: The Greatest Party That Never Happened on Netflix for the receipts.

I don’t know which Arbonne representative needs to hear this, but you’re not a #GirlBoss… You’re in a pyramid scheme. I’ll give you a few moments to let that sink in.

Now that everyone’s present, let’s dive into what constitutes a pyramid scheme, how to spot them, and why I hate them enough to blog about it. Shall we?

In a pyramid scheme, unsuspecting participants buy into a business with every expectation that their investment will generate a sizable return. Once they’ve paid their dues, they are to sell the company’s products to anyone (and everyone) in their natural market, that is, their family, their friends, and people they used to know but now avoid at their hometown Walmart. It’s not long before they Realize that they won’t sell enough products to recover their investment, much less afford the large and lavish life they were promised upon acceptance. Desperate for even so much as a lick of income, existing participants viciously recruit additional people into the venture. Then, a portion of the second-generation investments is used to compensate first-generation investors, and so on. Such operations almost entirely rely on continuous recruitment, using too-good-to-be-true products to distract from their pyramidal structure. As is the case with men, if it’s too good to be true, it probably is.

A pyramid scheme is incomplete without the psychology behind its recruitment practices. Such endeavors exploit young, entrepreneurial spirits; fresh graduates with next to no experience; or simply put, anyone in search of a greater purpose. Do not fall prey to recruiters who advertise a once-in-a-lifetime opportunity with uncapped earning potential. No matter how enticing it is to be your own boss, set your own hours, and build your own client base, I beg of you… do not drink the kool-aid. Be (reasonably) suspicious of any role that equips you with premeditated phoning language and recruitment scripts and especially so of operations in multi-level marketing (MLM), network marketing, etc. I’ve said it once, and I’ll say it again for the nursing majors. No matter how loud you speak it into existence, you will not make $250K selling anti-aging body oil.

Some pyramid schemes are difficult to detect, but all of them are doomed to fail. Unless you regularly swipe right on guys who pose with fish, you deserve to find purpose. I’m not particularly religious, which makes my closing statement that much more profound… I pray you find the courage to leave your local pyramid scheme and go on to pursue a legitimate, meaningful, and salaried career, so help me Elon Musk.

During my formative years, my parents dragged me to dinner parties, where I was expected to mingle with other prepubescent, acne-ridden teenagers for hours on end. After the awkward small talk subsided, then came the question of how (in God’s name) we would pass the time. A moment of unwavering silence passed before a brave soul, braver than I, begged the question, “Did anyone bring cards?” More often than not, someone DID bring a card deck, in which case, we played an uninteresting card game with minimal drama. But when we were caught empty-handed, it was the bravest soul, no doubt a fire sign, who suggested the game of Mafia.

At its core, Mafia is a social deduction game with an informed minority and uninformed majority. The designated all-knowing God assigns each player a secret identity, one of four options: the Mafia, the Cop, the Angel, or a lowly commoner. As the game progresses, the players outwardly question each others’ identities, while defending their own. At the end of each round, the group votes off, or “kills,” a singular player on the hunch that he or she is the feared Mafia. Players make wild accusations and resort to overly defensive monologues in an effort to win over the mob. Understandably, feelings are hurt, and decade-long friendships are tested.

What I find most intriguing about Mafia is its unique ability to lay bare the group’s psychopaths, those individuals among us who use skillful persuasion to strategically manipulate the weakest link(s). Albeit a party game, the psychology of Mafia reflects that of mob mentality and the cult experience. A successful Mafia sways the mob to go against logic and reason and vote off a defenseless commoner in the same way that cult leaders brainwash their members to abandon their family, friends, and former ways of life. Cult leaders often “gaslight” their members, or gradually distort their realities, so much so that they no longer trust their own perception. Similarly, master Mafias condition the mob to ignore their gut instincts and trust the natural leader. The game of Mafia is perhaps one of the first avenues for such individuals to prey on impressionable minds, and so is bred a line of mass manipulators, who employ their good looks and natural charisma to achieve undying power and influence. Simply put, if you consistently do well as the Mafia, you possess the necessary skill set to be successful as a cult leader. If you do poorly as the Mafia, or you find yourself leaving the game with a host of new trust issues, you are generally more susceptible to manipulation and thus more likely to join a cult. Do with that theory what you will, and if you’d like to sleep soundly tonight, do NOT by any means read about the People’s Temple of the Disciples of Christ. Goodnight!