The Pyramid Scheme

Maya's older brother Jay had started a multi-level marketing company, which he insisted was NOT a pyramid scheme. It was definitely a pyramid scheme. I should know — I'm the one who drew the triangle diagram showing how our family's money would flow upward to Jay while we got stuck with boxes of unsalted organic almond butter.

"It's about financial freedom, Leo," Jay said, spreading his arms wide like he was Jesus Christ but for cryptocurrency. The cable news channel played silently in the background, some talking head yelling about inflation. Our entire extended family was crowded into Aunt Sarah's living room, most of us strategically avoiding eye contact with the pyramid-shaped almond butter display in the corner.

I was there because Mom said I had to support family. Also, Jay promised me twenty percent of whatever I managed to sell, which was exactly how much my phone bill cost each month. The sacrifice we make for unlimited data.

"Just get three people under you," Jay whispered, flashing his entrepreneur smile. "They get three people, those people get three people. That's how you build your team."

He made it sound like assembling a Marvel superhero squad instead of pressuring our grandmother into buying forty bucks worth of raw honey.

Then I saw Alexa across the room. Alexa who sat behind me in AP Bio and had that mysterious cool-girl aura that made my brain turn into static. She was watching me with something like amusement, which was honestly terrifying.

"What's your angle?" she asked, sliding into the seat beside me. She smelled like vanilla and trouble. "You don't seem like the direct sales type."

"Family obligation," I said. "Also, phone bill."

Alexa laughed, and I felt something weird in my chest, like water rising in my lungs but in a good way? Does that make sense? Probably not. I was fourteen and emotionally constipated.

"Listen," she said, pulling out her phone. "My cousin runs this TikTok account exposing MLMs. Gets like, fifty thousand views per video. What if we documented this?" She gestured at Jay, who was now deep in conversation with our uncle about the power of residual income. "It would be hilarious."

We did it. We spent the whole "family business presentation" secretly recording Jay's worst moments — when he accidentally called the products "life-changing superfoods" instead of their actual names, when our grandma asked if the products were gluten-free and he said "I'll have to check with corporate" (they weren't), when he tried to explain the compensation structure and used the phrase "infinite wealth potential."

The video blew up. Like, actually viral. Comments poured in from people sharing their own family MLM disaster stories. Jay was furious, but also weirdly proud because some comments said his presentation was "so confident it was almost convincing." He's still working on his business, but now he calls himself a "serial entrepreneur" on Instagram.

Alexa and I made another video the next week. And the week after. Sometimes you don't climb the pyramid — you knock it over and build something better from the pieces.