The Work-at-Home Diaries

I write a check, fill out an order form that I've printed out from the Web site, and stuff the paper in an envelope. I thereby demonstrate that I have what it takes to become a valuable member of the Rainbow Expressions team. As proof positive, I drop the envelope in the mail.

September 11

I answer my phone, and a woman named Rena Logan introduces herself. She is following up on my telephone message of a few days ago, in which I expressed interest in an E-mail solicitation from a company called CSR. I'm still atwitter about the E-mail, which holds out the possibility of an at-home career in the "growing" field of child-support collection. It promises that people who enroll in the company's child-support- collection course can earn thousands of dollars a month performing the "valuable community service" of forcing "deadbeat parents" to pay up.

On the other end of the line Logan is brisk, businesslike. She tells me that CSR employs 25 people at its home office, in Boise, Idaho, and has 40 associates around the country who work on child-support-recovery cases. Logan explains why CSR is a terrific opportunity for me. There is a huge demand for private collectors because of the states' dismal performance in enforcing child-support orders. As a CSR associate, I can earn as much as 30% of the money I collect, which can add up to $15,000 a month. Even as a part-timer I can "work" two or three cases a week. "Can I do it in the evening when I return from my day job?" I ask. "Sure," she says. "You may need to make a phone call every once in a while during your lunch hour."

The price of course materials is $139, which covers 60 days of consulting. If I sign on, Logan says that she will personally break me in. I promise to get back to her.

September 12

It's been more than a week, and I have yet to do any actual income-producing work. It's time for action. On the ProCard Web site I enroll as an associate, downloading the contract, which I sign and fax to the company. I pick a zip code as my "own personal territory." I also fax ProCard a form that authorizes withdrawals from my checking account. I will be a ProCard associate in no time. Alone in my study, I high-five my Compaq.

September 13

Still debating the child-support opportunity, I call CSR for more information. I try several times but can't get through, so I leave a message for Logan. She calls back at 7 p.m., just as dinner hits the table. Regretfully abandoning my spaghetti and meatballs, I answer.

Logan explains that CSR will sell me 25 leads for $250, or I can develop them on my own. "The trick is to go out in your community," Logan says, suggesting that I post ads in such places as day-care centers and pediatricians' offices. Of course, that task would have me venturing outside the house, probably during the day, but I let the objection slide. Instead, I ask how to track down delinquent parents and make them pay up. The CSR materials will instruct me step-by-step, Logan promises. "I've seen people who make $2,500 a week," she says.

I ask for references from CSR associates, but Logan says the company doesn't provide them. "If I was out to scam you," she says, "I could give you anyone's name. I could give you my cousin Vinnie, and you wouldn't know the difference." She laughs, and I join in. "You should know," she adds, "that CSR has a 30-day, no-questions-asked, money-back guarantee." That clinches it. I'm in.

September 14

At the post office I hand over $139 for a money order payable to CSR. It's a lot of money. But in business you must invest before you earn, as some wise man must have said, probably in an E-mail message.

September 17

Hooray! The day's mail brings a large envelope from Rainbow Expressions containing an 11-page "Insider's Plan to Mailing Circulars From Your Own Home!" A photo of a woman who is smiling broadly and clutching a fistful of dollars adorns the cover. There are also 40 standard-size envelopes, 40 slightly smaller envelopes, 39 flyers, and four bulletin-board notices. Now I really am in business!

But something gives me pause. Rainbow's business is the careful addressing of envelopes, yet my name, written in blue ink on the big white envelope, is misspelled: "Rosenblum." Rainbow's other core competency is stuffing envelopes, yet the one I have just opened contains one flyer too few. Perhaps it is a test to see if I am careful and notice mistakes. Proud to have passed, I roll up my sleeves and prepare for some serious stuffing.

On one side, the flyers display an ad for The Work at Home Guide, which costs $34.90, shipping included. The flip side has an offer for a CD-ROM ($84.90) comprising unspecified reports, reference materials, and "money-making ideas," as well as the right to reproduce and sell the CD-ROM to others. The flyers promise the guide will show a purchaser how to "make hundreds of dollars a week from home by simply mailing sales literature from various companies, stuffing envelopes, or doing simple, fun, easy assembly work such as jewelry assembly, toys assembly, or crafts." There's also an order form with the mailing address of Rainbow Expressions.

The "Insider's Plan" lays out the deal for envelope stuffers. Before I start stuffing, I must hunt for people (like me) who will respond to an ad offering work for envelope stuffers. Huh? The circularity is breathtaking.

Fine. But how to advertise for customers? Many of Rainbow Expressions' recommendations sound rather like what CSR suggests to promote a child-support-collection service. I can post bulletin-board ads around town or on Web sites. I can buy "hot prospect" leads from Rainbow Expressions. Or I can consult the company's Submission Blast Site, described as a "completely free" online tool. Each time I generate the name and address of a prospective customer and forward that information -- in a stuffed envelope, natch -- to Rainbow Expressions, I earn a dollar. Each time I send a stuffed envelope directly to a prospect and that prospect buys The Work at Home Guide or the company's CD-ROM, I collect $10. That's cool.

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