Introduction

She signed up for the sisterhood, free cars, and the promise of a successful business of her own. Instead, she ended up with an addiction, broken friendships, and the rubble of a toppled pyramid . . . scheme.

Hey, Hun: Sales, Sisterhood, Supremacy, and the Other Lies Behind Multilevel Marketing

 is the eye-opening, funny, and dangerous personal story of author Emily Lynn Paulson rising to the top of the pyramid in the multilevel marketing (MLM) world, only to recognize that its culture and business practices went beyond a trendy marketing scheme and into the heart of white supremacy in America.

A significant polemic on how MLMs operate, Hey, Hun expertly lays out their role in the cultural epidemic of isolation and the cult-like ideologies that course through their trainings, marketing, and one-on-one interactions.

Equally entertaining and smart, Paulson’s first-person accounts, acerbic wit, and biting commentary will leave you with a new perspective on those “Hey Hun” messages flooding your inbox.

THE EXPERTS ARE RAVING:

“This book is a must-read for all women, especially those struggling with the deep ache to belong, be successful, or feel their self-worth. HEY, HUN is at once a cautionary tale, an educational service, and a vulnerable memoir. It’s essential reading for anyone considering joining, trying to escape, or healing from the toxic, culty structure that is MLM.” — Sarah Edmondson, actress, host of A Little Bit Culty podcast, author of Scarred: The True Story of How I Escaped NXIVM, the Cult That Bound My Life

“Emily’s experience is so raw, honest, and relatable that HEY, HUN should be required reading for anyone involved with MLM—past, present, or future.” — Roberta Blevins, anti-MLM adovcate, host of the Life After MLM podcast, and star of the LulaRich documentary

"I expected Emily’s account of her time in an MLM to be eye-opening. I didn’t expect it to shine a light on so many dark aspects of American culture. HEY, HUN blew me away. An incredibly smart, vulnerable, and jaw-dropping expose. As entertaining as it is important." — Laura McKowen, author of We Are The Luckiest and founder of The Luckiest Club

"As a former boss babe myself, I thought I knew everything I needed to know about multilevel marketing. I was so wrong. HEY, HUN delves into the underbelly of how women are targeted to feed a deeply patriarchal system under the guise of empowerment. You will laugh, you will cry, but most importantly, you will see the truth. And it’s more nefarious than you ever imagined." — Celeste Yvonne, author of It’s Not About The Wine

“If sunlight is the best disinfectant, HEY, HUN throws open the curtains! Emily Lynn Paulson’s insider take on ‘girl boss’ culture brings transparency to an opaque world and offers real-life insight into the difficult choices women face when realigning our work with our values. A riveting read.” — Becky Vollmer, empowerment expert and author of You Are Not Stuck

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Excerpt

Introduction

“Okay, ladies, before our morning session, let’s get together! Pose, hang on . . . Kelsey, I can’t see your face, get over to the left . . . Amy, I can’t see you! Okay, here we go . . . Smile!”

I stand up straight in the back row, like I’m posing for a cheerleading photo, except I’m thirty-five, I’m slightly drunk, and technically, I’m at work. Becky takes the picture with her iPhone and looks at it. I can tell she’s not pleased with every woman in it, but clearly, it’s good enough for the ones who count. I’ll let you in early: I’m one of those who count. I have been a consultant for Rejuvinat, a multilevel-marketing com- pany (MLM), for two years—and already, I am one of their top earners. If all goes well, I’ll be getting the white Mercedes by the end of the year. Fair warning: This is the pretty much true, absolutely ridiculous, definitely catty story of my life in an MLM, but it’s more than that. It’s also about how MLMs operate, their role in the lives of suburban women across the United States, and the belief systems, systemic rac- ism, and white supremacy that course through their trainings, market- ing, and one-on-one interactions. (Think white supremacy is a stretch? To that, I give you the Merriam-Webster dictionary definition of supremacy: “The state or condition of being superior to all others in

authority, power, or status.”)

Because what I learned during my time at one of the biggest MLMs in the world is that it wasn’t just a way for stay-at-home moms (SAHMs) to earn money, it was actually a way for women to exploit other women, demanding that they be remade in their (well-filtered) image. We required that initiates subscribe not only to the products we peddled but to a worldview that championed old, imperial ideas of success, class, race, and beauty.

And to think, all I wanted was a stupid white car.

MLM is a marketing strategy for the sale of products or services where the MLM’s revenue comes from contractors who are non-salaried, selling the company’s products or services to friends and family, while the participants’ earnings are derived from a multilevel commission system. This strategy is also called direct selling, network marketing, pyramid selling, and social commerce, among many other monikers. The compensation plan pays people based on product sales and recruit- ment of more people to sell the products. It requires people like me to sell to and attempt to recruit others into the same organization. You probably know many people in MLMs. You might purchase products from them without even knowing it.

At first glance, it seems so benign—women selling leggings and makeup and cookware in their spare time, with the hope of building more income and more friendships. “Cute” social media posts suggest that lonely suburban gals can build meaningful community with other success-oriented women and become the best version of themselves. What’s wrong with a little girl power? As it turns out, a lot. What makes the whole enterprise so sticky (and icky) is the fact that distrib- utors make more money from recruitment and the sales of those they recruit than from the products they sell directly. To succeed in the industry, sales reps must consistently recruit new distributors. This is sold as a flexible option for busy moms, but it can be very hard to suc- ceed if you don’t have a large network (and firm resources) to draw from. It’s easy to overlook these factors because MLMs are everywhere, so they can’t be that bad, right? I didn’t think so. In fact, to my last days, I still defended and wanted to believe in what I had done, even though I felt immeasurable guilt and shame. It took me a long time to gather the guts to write this book, for fear of offending people I loved and still do. A part of me wanted to say it wasn’t that bad, but if you keep read- ing, you’ll probably disagree. After I left the world of MLM, I began to see it for what it was. I began to see that Rejuvinat, and the many MLMs just like it, employed specific methods to maintain control over people, just like cults. Steven Hassan, former cult member and defector, describes this phenomenon in his dissertation as the BITE (behavior, information, thought, and emotional control) Model, which I will ref- erence in greater detail in this book.

Using these methods, MLMs not only promote a specific vision of feminism, patriotism, and capitalism, they also create a system of exploitation that leaves many women financially, emotionally, and mor- ally bankrupt. During my time at Rejuvinat, I saw deep-rooted racism, classism, religious discrimination, antisemitism, bias, and cult behavior, which isn’t surprising, because MLMs work like most colonial struc- tures: They recruit their members through social engagement, eco- nomic control, exploitation, and entrapment, creating a breeding ground for white violence in the absence of any economic, racial, or ethnic diversity. And if you decide to leave, exiting MLMs can feel akin to taking on the class bully in middle school, except the mean girls are all in their thirties and forties, wielding luxury SUVs and Louis Vuit- ton Neverfulls. And once you do escape, the healing process can be overwhelming.

Important note: Yes, I am a white chick talking about white suprem-

acy. When I began writing this book, I didn’t think it would contain much about white supremacy and racism, because as a white woman, I was naive to how those forces were at play in the work and culture of MLM life. I thought the book would just be a juicy story about my involvement, the realizations I had during my experience, and why I couldn’t be involved anymore, and it is, but there is so much more. As I researched and interviewed former MLM members, I began to see just how insidious the culture was, and with the rise of QAnon and other conspiracy theories, I saw the links between the pseudoscience, white supremacy, and, yes, racism that permeated MLM life.

But I’m not an antiracist educator, and I have no interest in making money from teaching white chicks how to be better white chicks. I’ve benefited from the privilege of being white, pretty, financially sound, and thin most of my life. I still do, and I likely always will. I’m not here to wag fingers or win the Woke White Olympics. I’m a white chick who profited off a system that I believe exploits people (including other white women). Period. And I think it’s our duty as humans to speak out about things that are unfair and unjust, even if they benefit us. Especially if they benefit us. Because if the benefit is only for a few, the detriment is for many.

Throughout the 2010s, MLMs took off through Instagram and influencers and the cult of suburban moms who were catapulted into guru status (such as, ahem, rhymes with Hachel Rollis), all because they knew how to use a filter and parrot personal development clichés. And I understand the allure because I was one of those moms. In some ways, I still am, as I find myself counting the social media likes and nitpicking my appearance in selfies just like anyone else. But during my time at Rejuvinat, I saw what those filters did to the women behind them, and I discovered the hard way what they did to me.

Because somewhere between day 1, when I signed the consultant enrollment form, and day 2,568, when I faxed in my termination notice, I became a person I didn’t like, and I was one of the few who “made it.”

It is reported by most sources that between 96 and 99.7 percent of people who buy into MLM schemes lose money. The odds of turning a profit in any MLM are lower than the odds of winning roulette. But I did win. As I said before, I was a success story in the MLM world. I made well over a million dollars during my residency as a #bossbabe. I walked stages adorned with sparkly gowns and waved a pageant wave toward a crowd of adoring fans praying to be where I was. I earned every bonus, gift, luxury purse, and diamond-encrusted piece of jewelry the company had to offer (and I also paid hefty taxes on them). I went on so many shopping sprees and international trips that it made my head spin (and the nonstop drinking didn’t help). I led convention trainings, got to be a keynote speaker at numerous company events, and was a corporate darling for nearly my entire run in my MLM.

But I did a lot more than that. During my years at Rejuvinat, I also pushed away friends and family. I burned bridges. I wasted precious time being distracted with “my business” instead of spending time with my children, who were still very much children at that time. I spent hours parroting company scripts to my downline (the people I recruited to be on my “team”) and tens of thousands of dollars on retreats, train- ings, personal development, products, and gifts. I recruited hundreds of women into a dream that wasn’t achievable or sustainable for the majority of them, and taught others to do the same. I got wrapped up in all things #girlboss with designer shoes and white cars and the full MLM bling lifestyle. I sent cut-and-paste texts and emails that make me cringe, and I regularly added and cold-messaged random strangers on social media with the salutation “Hey, hun” (hence the name of this book), because I was following a “system of operation.” I can see now how influenced (brainwashed) I was. As horrible as it feels to compare to a mass suicide, I believe the figure of speech fits here: I drank the Kool-Aid. And I made it a double.

Speaking of doubles, I also sank into severe substance-use disorder

and deep depression. The night I got the car (oh yes, I did!), I found myself in handcuffs only hours later. If you really want to know what fuels many of those MLM sales parties, you don’t need to look much further than the bar. I certainly didn’t. My drinking took off during my time with Rejuvinat. I drank as much as I sold, and I was very success- ful at both. So successful that I got a DUI the night of my “car party.” And after I hit rock bottom and got sober, I was trotted out at every Rejuvinat event as their “inspirational tale.” Though it wasn’t long before they started to complain that my star was shining a little too bright. Because despite being camouflaged as empowering, MLMs are deeply anti-feminist. They aren’t about women succeeding; they are about using the appearance of female success to help the company succeed.

As I escalated in the ranks, the things I saw over the course of the next few years changed my viewpoint. Despite parroting every toxic-positive mantra in the MLM world, including “You only fail if you quit!,” ad nauseum during my indoctrination, I did just that: I quit. Among MLM circles, there’s a common belief that those who fail do so because of their limited beliefs, fixed mindset, shitty priorities, and unwillingness to do what it takes to succeed. But I did what it took. I earned all the things. Yet I still felt the entire time that I was failing, and by the end of my seven years of captivity, I couldn’t wait to get the

hell out.

When I left, I began to wonder, Why aren’t more people talking about this? And I found out that they were.

As I began diving into podcasts, reading books, watching YouTube channels, surfing Reddit pages, looking at the sources of information (formerly banned by my company), as well as personally interviewing hundreds of current and former MLM members who describe their experience as “cultlike,” I realized we were a silenced majority. Though there are many people who gleefully attack and condemn MLMs, few of them have actually been in one. Most women I spoke with are embarrassed and afraid to tell their story.



This book is my amends, my celebration, my cautionary tale, and a glimpse into the stories of many. The women who have lost money, friends, self-esteem, and more, all because they wanted to join a “life-changing opportunity.” This is me not staying silent.

Though I may (will) be labeled a hater by those still in the MLM community (it’s a common practice to shun anyone who dissents from MLMs), I don’t hate MLMs, and I don’t hate the people who run them or join them. I have friends who are still in them, many of whom I recruited into the system. Many of the people I met who are involved in MLMs helped me a great deal in my personal life and my sobriety journey. Some are my best friends. If anything, I feel extremely con- nected to women (especially moms) who are still immersed in the culty MLM world, on a level that people who haven’t been involved in them don’t understand. I love MLM people. One of my favorite quotes from Roberta Blevins, host of the Life After MLM podcast and star of the documentary series LuLaRich, is “Everyone in an MLM is a victim and a perpetrator.” And I believe that. I now view people in MLMs as victims and predators, simultaneously, whether they want to see it that way or not.

Just like almost everyone who joins an MLM, I joined believing I

was helping people, helping myself, and creating a legacy for my family. I joined for a community and a purpose. I sold that dream to others, and at the core, I do believe most people who join MLMs are good people who believe the exact same thing. They want to make a differ- ence in their own and others’ lives. They want to have fun, friendships, and community, all the things that MLMs promise. Like I once did, they truly believe the things they are saying: that they intend to sell a dream. But intention and impact don’t always match.

Speaking of intention and impact: I use a fictitious company name and list arbitrary products. There is no Rejuvinat. I do this not to protect the particular company, but because I believe they’re all similar. Though there are minute differences in structure and finances, MLMs all function the same way and exploit the same characteristics and vulnerabilities in people. Regardless of their rank, time in their MLM, or background, the women I talked to who left MLMs had so much in common with me: a desire for self-improvement, to help their family, or to be part of something bigger than themselves. There were more commonalities than differences, which is a nod to the homogeneous nature of the people targeted to be in MLMs, and also the blueprint for how vulnerable people get sucked in.

I’m certainly not winning any popularity contests, but I’m not here to ruin the party for anyone else. I’m no stranger to dissenting from something that mass amounts of women love and consider a personal- ity trait. Along with speaking out about the harm of MLMs, I am a vocal recovery advocate who shares about substance-use disorder and prevention regularly. I shout my sobriety from the mountaintops and sing the praises of living alcohol-free. I’ve written a book about it, run a large community app for moms in recovery, and have talked about it openly for almost seven years. Yet I have tons of friends and loved ones who drink, and I could give a shit if alcohol is sold or consumed around me. I’m pro-sobriety, not anti-drinker. I’m also not anti–people in MLMs. This is simply my story woven in with what I’ve learned throughout.

Additionally, the women I write about in this book don’t actually

exist. There is no Becky, Kimberly, Hannah, or Madison; rather, they are composites of the hundreds of different women I interacted with over my tenure in MLM. While similar qualities and behaviors were combined into these protagonists and antagonists, the truth is, there might be a little Becky, Kimberly, Hannah, and Madison in all of us. Timelines have been lengthened or shortened for storytelling, and some circumstances such as location have been changed for context or to protect identities. However, all the conversations, scenarios, and interactions took place, and they are shared here with as much accuracy as my memory can provide. Though I have a hard time looking back and believing some of the things that were said to me and the circum- stances I placed myself in over the past decade, it’s all true. A dozen years ago, I would have thrown this book in a fire. And now, I’m writing it instead, because I think this is how we change things.

So, whether you’ve been in an MLM, hate MLMs, or just want to read about white women behaving badly (and why), hey, hun, I hope you enjoy this book. view abbreviated excerpt only...

Discussion Questions

Questions from the author:

1. What was the most surprising thing you learned from the book that you didn’t know before?

2. Have any of your perceptions about multi-level marketing changed as a result of reading this book? If yes, what impact will this have on you going forward?

3. What are some ways you believe we can empower women on a social/cultural level?

4. Do you notice an intersection in the cultural zeitgeist of paid ‘self-help’ leading to things that are ultimately damaging (for example, alcohol, multilevel marketing, compulsive shopping etc.)? If so, how can you be more aware as a consumer?

5. Which scene has stuck with you the most, and why?

6. If this book is made into a tv series, who should play the main characters?

Weblinks

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