(It’s even more expensive than you think!)

Written by Frosty Rose

The pinnacle of success for a Mary Kay director is the coveted Pink Cadillac. It’s that trophy on wheels that sells the sizzle of a “career” in this company, the mark that you’ve made the big leagues, and a tangible sign to the rest of the world that you’re rolling in the dough with your little hobby selling lipstick.

The public at large believes if you’re in a pink Cadillac, then you’re making a lot of money in MK.

Of course, there’s so much more to the story. Being in possession of a pink Cadillac doesn’t tell us anything about the copays, the ridiculously priced insurance that you must buy through Mary Kay, and the ever-increasing minimum production requirements. Not to mention the swindling of consultants and front-loading newbies with astronomical initial orders they’ll never sell.

In most careers, once you master a certain level, it’s relatively simple to maintain your position. One would imagine that the same could be said for the “greatest opportunity for women,” right?

Wrong!

Mary Kay at any level is nothing more than a castle built on sinking sand, and if you doubt me, dear reader, journey with me into sales director Rachel Ryan’s most recent Caddy qualification process.

For the blissfully uninitiated, directors in Mary Kay must re-qualify for their cars every two years. Requalification is exactly the same as qualification—a six-month period during which you must hit minimum production (for the Caddy, it currently works out to an average of $19,000 wholesale per month). Between those periods, once you earn the car, you generally keep it.  But if you dip below minimum production requirements, you pay a copay. Or you “choose to step down” and allow the car to be repossessed, usually with much unnecessary fanfare to ensure that you’re sufficiently embarrassed by your failure. The second-hand humiliation of watching a sister director lose her car is generally enough for other directors to keep quietly making those copays.

Rachel Ryan, one of the few directors left in Jamie Taylor’s crumbling national area, just completed qualifications for her third Cadillac, which, by all normal rules of career progression, should have been a breeze. But, naturally, it wasn’t. It involved much begging, pleading, leveraging her daughter for social media points, and many tears. (And an “extension” of a couple days from corporate to finish buying more inventory. When did this become a thing?)

All of the begging and crying is completely normal for your work, right?? Right?? Okay, fine. I’ll stop rambling. Let’s watch Rachel spiral on her social media updates.

(“Mentor sand friends who will do anything to make sure they don’t lose their own precarious position in the pyramid.” There. Fixed that for you!)

(Oh! The cutesy poster! I was wondering when that apex of professionalism was going to show up!)

(Oh, and a sale! So much for 50% profit!)

Tears, check!

Double credit for cutesy poster plus exploiting your kid.

More tears, because this biz is super profesh and oh-so-easy. You want her life, right?

Gratuitous dog pic for those annoyed by small children.

And an extension from Corporate. Because of course they did. Can’t afford to lose more free marketing driving all over the country!

And the inevitable gratitude filled, miraculous finish! How many credit cards got maxed out to accomplish this act of God? (Note: Placing orders in the names of new recruits to finish out the production isn’t a miracle.)

And the kicker?? Rachel’s unit was #5 in the whole country for the month of September. Yes, her purchasing of products to finish the Cadillac pushed her into “top unit” status for orders (not sales). See, anything is possible if you’re just willing to use your own credit card to make it look like you achieved something. This “business” is sick and demented. Applaud yourself for going into debt because your upline convinced you it will be “worth it.”