The bigger scam & other Swindle Jones stories

"So, the only thing you have to do is to get three new salesman, and they have to get three new salesman, and etcetera, etcetera. Any questions?"

Some people raise their hands. They were at closed door meeting to hear about a change to increase their incomes easily and quick. And they were lucky, because the meeting was hosted by the person behind the project, Ringo Jones—but his friends called him Swindle Jones, and that's why he never mixed friendship and business.

Swindle picked one of the raised hands randomly. The picked person was a single mom pretty young and pretty indebted. One of the staff members reached her and gave her a microphone.

"Yeah, hi, name's Becky."

"Hi, Becky, it's so nice to have you here today," said Swindle. "Give it up for Becky, ladies and gentleman."

Everyone started clapping for Becky, who smiled coyly.

"Thanks," she whispered to the mic.

"Tell me, Becky, what's your question?"

"Yeah, thanks, Ringo, it's just that I don't get why we need to get that many salesmen. Ain't we supposed to sell shampoo bottles or something?"

"You see," Swindle replied, "the business scheme is pretty simple: we focus on getting new salesmen because we will be their suppliers, and when they get new salesmen, we will supply them all. In other words, we will be in a better position automatically and we will increase our sales without doing anything. I know it sounds complex, so I'll give you an example: let's say you get three salesmen who need each 100 units of our product monthly. You will be selling 300 units monthly. And if each one of your salesmen gets three new salesmen who need 100 units monthly, then each of your salesmen will need 300 units monthly, and you will be selling 900 units monthly, and that number will increase every time there's new salesmen under your wing. Any other question?"

A middle-aged man raised from his seat with his hand raised. He had a long and black beard that contrasted with his bald head.

"And what's the different between our product and the rest? How do we know it will sell?"

"Well, unlike most of the hair loss treatments in the market, this is made with snake oil. The original recipe comes from the native American."

"And does it work?"

"Have you ever seen a bald native American?"

Everyone glanced at each other, nodded their heads and started whispering positively.

"Well, then, to be a part of our team you only need to sign our contract, and you will get your first 100 units to sell. Make a line right here, please."

Everyone stood up and made the line. Little by little they signed their contract and got their first 100 hair loss treatments.

"Police! Nobody moves!" Suddenly a swat team knocked down the door and started arresting everyone. The new salesmen watched the scene confused, while the old salesmen tried to run away. And Swindle took advantage of the chaos and confusion to get to the bathroom and get out the window, which it conveniently lead to the Street, where his car was conveniently parked—he knew more than anyone one of the most important rules in business: "always have an escape route."

Swindle got in his car and escaped at a moderate speed—not too fast to be suspicious, but now to slow to let himself get caught if something goes wrong. At the stoplight the turned to his mom's house—he could hide there for a while.