This story came from a Pink Truth reader who admits she cheated to get ahead in Mary Kay. And she’s hardly alone. Mary Kay supporters love to claim that cheating is rare and that the women doing it aren’t following the Mary Kay Way. From what I’ve seen over the years, signing up fake recruits, buying production, and manipulating qualifications are common practices. Here’s one woman’s experience.

I am trying to untangle myself from Mary Kay. I’ll admit that sometimes I still think about being a successful director, driving the Cadillac, getting the jewelry, and walking across that stage. I even catch myself looking through the Star Consultant prizes. I know how ridiculous that sounds after everything I’ve seen, but the desire for recognition doesn’t just disappear overnight.

My first director was a big deal in Mary Kay. She’d been a million dollar director several times and had been with the company for over 20 years. Everyone thought she was wonderful, but those of us in her unit saw a different side. She was selfish and obsessed with production. I got the inventory call almost immediately after signing my agreement, even though nobody mentioned inventory when I joined. I didn’t buy any at first.

Eventually I got sucked into wanting the praise and recognition. I wanted to move up and be one of the special people. So I cheated. I signed up friends who had no intention of doing Mary Kay. I paid for their starter kits and I placed their $225 activating orders myself. Then I sold the products online at cost. I even managed to become a Star Consultant doing this. LOL. Looking back, I can’t believe how normal it all seemed.

The final straw with that director came at the end of the Seminar year. I swear I got about 50 emails in one day about how close our unit was to its goal. Could we stretch a little more? Didn’t we want to support the team? Didn’t we want our director to walk across the stage, earn her trip, and get her money? It was always about what SHE wanted. I finally had enough and quietly disappeared.

Years later I joined again under a younger, very ambitious director. I thought this time would be different. It wasn’t. I was buying products to meet goals, recruiting people who weren’t really interested, and trying to convince myself I could make it work. The worst part was what I did to one of my own recruits.

This woman purchased about $8,000 wholesale in her first year. She wasn’t selling the products, and I knew it. But her orders were helping my DIQ and car production, so I kept my mouth shut. As she approached her one-year anniversary, I was actually praying she wouldn’t return her inventory because I didn’t want to lose the commissions. How awful is that? I cared more about the money than I did about my friend.

Then I started seeing what other directors were doing. One director was paying for her DIQ’s recruits, spending $600 each to make them qualified. That helped her earn Court of Sharing recognition. She also made Court of Sales, but hardly any of those recruits ever ordered again. It was all about getting the numbers on paper so someone could walk across the stage and get applause.

And she wasn’t the only one. I knew of women buying their way into Courts, paying for their own car production, and financing inventory orders just to maintain appearances. Some were putting themselves into serious debt to look successful. Everybody was cheering for these women, but nobody was asking where the money was really coming from.

What bothered me most was how normal all of this had become. Directors knew what was happening. Consultants knew. People looked the other way because everyone wanted the recognition, commissions, and prizes. I watched women ruin their finances just to get a few minutes of applause at Seminar.

I used to believe Mary Kay was different years ago, when the company supposedly cared more about women and less about wholesale orders. Maybe I’m kidding myself about that too. But somewhere along the way, everything became about production and recruiting. Nobody cared if you actually sold the products or made any money. They cared about what you ordered and how many people you signed up.

I wanted Mary Kay to be something fun that I could do part time. I wanted to sell a little makeup, meet some nice women, and make some extra money. I didn’t want to be judged by my wholesale orders or made to feel guilty because I loved my regular job and didn’t want to quit it.

I’m done chasing the Cadillac, the jewelry, and the applause. I’ve seen too much, and I’ve done things I’m not proud of. The sad thing is, I know plenty of women still doing exactly what I did. When does it end?