I was 23 when I first came across this group (or a similar group). I was looking for a chance to advance in management. Elliot, then, was the one who interviewed me and their office was on Powers Ave. Now, they have moved to Union Street.
If the first person that wrote this report made $40 per week, that was twice as much as I made in week three. My first two weeks was about $6-8. I don't know how I managed to stay for five weeks. They have a motivation session in the morning where everyone jumps up and down, chants and swears (I don't why the cussing... maybe to express freedom). They have a way of making you feel like this is THE business and all else working hard and unhappily are the idiots of the world.
They kept telling me I was doing great though hadn't sold hardly anything and gave me buttons that said I was a certain type of manager, then a manager... each one showing "promotion" and they talked about sending me to open their New York office.
The way they approach random people and businesses makes you almost afraid to apply to ANY of the business in the area just so you dont EVER run into them again.
The worst part of it was feeling like I was kidnapped. They would tell you to get in a car and that we were going to prime locations to sell a certain amount of bottles as quota. All the bottles in the trunk were "encouraged" to be gone. We were not allowed to use our cell phones, but I snuck calls to my husband whenever I could.
A horrible quality of the job was who you would run into at these stops. I walked up on a man cheating on his wife with a hooker in dark parking lot at 11 at night, a coke deal at 1 am in which I was offered cocaine and then they laughed as they bought two bottles saying a pretty girl like me shouldn't be on the streets and that they had no interest in the product but was only buying it to get me home. I stood outside of a gas station where large mac trucks parked. I went to the trucks with one of the big guys from our group. I sold nothing to them. I wonder what would happen if that big guy was not there and it was another skinny, knit whit like myself. I had one bottle left and we could not go home. Finally, a Jacksonville Jaguar pulled up in a fancy car. I practically ran to the car. All I saw was that it was expensive and maybe he'd buy. When he got out I saw he was a football player. He asked what I was doing at 3 in the morning selling products in a gas station parking lot. I told him it was my last bottle and I had a quota to meet. I pointed to the car of people sleeping in the corner of the gas station parking lot. He bought the bottle and told me to get a new job.
Usually we travelled someplace in north Florida within an hour of Jacksonville. The last straw, for me, was when we wound up was Alabama. I had no idea we were even spending the night, before we left. I would have not gone... at the very least packed fresh clothes and underwear instead of going all around in the same sweaty clothes I marched the streets in the day before. At 2 am we got a hotel and we all shared beds, guys, gals. We complained but tried to be in good humor. My husband had his share of swearing on the other end of the phone, but it wasn't motivating. He screamed that I was kidnapped if I wanted to go home but couldn't and that they had me in a cult. I quit when I got back to jacksonville.
This company changes it's name and location but the people are the same. The name is always some "Design" or "Entertainment" or "Enterprise" to make it sound legit. In five weeks I made less than a hundred dollars and that is counting tips from pitying strangers.