Zia was having a day.
First, her roommate drank the last oat milk. Then, she got a flat tire while trying to dodge a squirrel (who, for the record, seemed completely unbothered by her sacrifice). And to top it off, she checked her bank account—right after reading an article about financial scams, no less—only to find a balance that looked more like a software version number: $2.71.
So, when an Instagram DM pinged with:
“Hey boss babe 💸 Ready to make passive income from your phone?”
Zia didn’t even flinch. She should have flinched.
But instead, she blinked at her screen and thought, “Maybe this is the universe giving me a break. Or at least… a down payment on a break.”
She tapped on the profile. It had aesthetic reels, a bunch of inspirational quotes, and lots of emojis. The person behind it—“Mandy💎Mentor to Millionaires”—claimed she’d helped literally thousands of people make six figures from home. The whole thing screamed “financial freedom.”
Also, it whispered “financial scams,” but Zia’s brain was currently in airplane mode when it came to red flags.
Mandy invited her to a Zoom info session. That same night, Zia sat on her futon, notebook ready, and logged into what looked suspiciously like a multi-level marketing group chat. Except they called it a “community of wealth builders.”
One woman claimed she went from ramen noodles to real estate in six months. A guy said he fired his boss last week. And the host kept saying things like, “If you’re not getting rich, it’s because you’re not plugged into the right energy.”
Zia loved the energy. She also loved the idea of not eating instant mashed potatoes for dinner. Again.
So she signed up.
And she paid $99 for the “starter kit.”
And $39/month to stay in the “mentorship circle.”
And then… she started noticing things.
Like how the only way to actually make money was to get other people to sign up. And how they kept saying stuff like, “Don’t overthink it—just post your link and let the universe handle the rest.”
Then came the phishing email.
Zia got a note from her “bank,” saying there was suspicious activity on her account. She panicked and clicked the link. It took her to what looked like her login page. She typed in her info.
Moments later, her phone buzzed.
$400 was transferred out of her checking account.
She screamed into her hoodie like it was noise-canceling.
This time, the squirrel should have flinched.
Zia called her bank and froze her account. Then she sat on the floor and started Googling:
“How to report a financial scam.”
“Is ‘mentorship circle’ a pyramid scheme?”
“How to turn off brain before clicking dumb phishing links.”
The articles didn’t pull punches. She had walked into a digital Bermuda Triangle of financial scams—classic phishing and a pyramid scheme appetizer.
Zia was officially a cautionary tale.
She was also mad. Not just at the scammers. But at herself.
The next day, she made a TikTok called:
“Girl Gets Scammed—Saves YOU From Doing The Same.”
It racked up 58K views.
People shared their stories.
Some even thanked her.
Zia replied:
“Thanks! I now specialize in spotting financial scams the way my roommate specializes in ignoring the trash.”
She even made a checklist of scam red flags and added it to her bio.
Her followers doubled.
And someone offered her a real part-time job writing content for a personal finance blog.
Her payment came via direct deposit—not a sketchy PayPal request from a username like “$$GUrLPrEnEUR24.”
Zia’s Final Thoughts:
“If an opportunity smells like reheated spam, it probably is. And if someone says the only way to succeed is by dragging your friends into a ‘wealth-building circle,’ run faster than you did from that gym membership you never used.”
