My Multi-Level Pyramid Problem

Nothing makes me happier as a teacher than seeing my students become successful in the field I introduced them to. And when a former student reaches out, I am always happy to reconnect, catch up, and hear where life has taken them.

Recently, a former student who has built a long-standing career for herself in the beauty world reached out, telling me she had something extremely exciting to share.

As the teacher who first introduced her to makeup, naturally I became excited. Perhaps she wanted to collaborate on an educational project. Maybe she wanted me to travel somewhere as a guest speaker. Within a few minutes, apparently I had already mentally accepted my Oscar.

The next morning, I answered her message, thanked her for reaching out, and asked what this exciting news was all about.

The exchange began innocuously enough: a few how-are-you’s, some catching up. Then she pivoted and asked whether I had heard of a beauty brand called Riman.

I had not.

She began telling me how much she loved the products, the colours and textures, how South Korean beauty continues to expand globally, and how well she had been doing financially selling the line. The company, she explained, was interested in expanding into my region, which naturally made her think of me.

As she was writing, I began researching the company myself.

And looking for the catch.

The product line appeared relatively straightforward, positioned at a fairly premium price point and frequently offered in bundled groupings. More importantly, the company operates through a multi-level marketing structure in which sellers can earn commissions on product sales and, potentially, through the recruitment and sales activity of other representatives.

This is where my heart sank.

I have always been deeply uncomfortable with this type of business model.

Not because selling products is inherently distasteful. I have worked in beauty for more than three decades. Selling, recommending and introducing products is part of the industry, I know the game well.

What troubles me is what happens when the people around you slowly begin to look less like friends, relatives, colleagues or former teachers—and more like potential customers.

Family. Friends. Lovers. Coworkers.

Everyone becomes a prospect.

And then we wonder why certain family members stop getting invited to events.

Multi-level marketing has existed in beauty for decades. Brands such as Mary Kay, Avon and Arbonne have all used variations of direct-selling or representative-based business models, and these structures have long generated debate about recruitment, market saturation, income potential and the pressure placed on personal networks.

I have been approached several times over the years to represent or sell companies operating this way. I have also watched friends invest substantial amounts of money into products that eventually sat untouched on shelves—unsold, unwanted, unloved and unnecessary.

What bothers me most, however, is the recruitment aspect.

The promise is often not simply that you can make money selling a product. The appeal becomes that you can bring other sellers into the structure and potentially benefit financially from their activity as well.

And that changes the nature of the interaction.

What bothered me about hearing from my former student was not simply being offered a beauty product. PR representatives offer me products regularly; that is part of my professional life.

What bothered me was realizing that a relationship I associated with mentorship, history and genuine affection had become the doorway to a commercial opportunity.

Perhaps she sincerely thought of me because she believed I would be good at it. I am willing to give her that generosity.

But that is also exactly what troubles me about this type of business model: it encourages people to look at their relationships and see potential markets.

I cannot begin to describe how strange it felt to have a former student approach me with an opportunity from which she might ultimately benefit financially, knowing that it was my own knowledge, patience and teaching that had helped introduce her to this industry in the first place.

The gall. The gumption.

And, admittedly, the irony.

I understand the temptation. We live in a world where everyone is trying to do too much yesterday, increase their revenue, maximize their time and create additional streams of income.

I am trying to do exactly the same thing.

But there must be ways to generate revenue without cannibalizing our social circles and turning every person we know into a potential client.

In the end, I politely declined.

I told her that I was happy she had found something that worked for her, but that I was not interested in investing in another beauty brand.

Right now, I need to invest in myself.

And since we were apparently discussing professional opportunities, I asked whether she might be willing to write a testimonial about her experience studying with me.

She very kindly said yes.

At the time of writing, I am still waiting.

Perhaps there is a lesson in that too.