Where Can I Buy Advocare Products
Charles Ragus founded AdvoCare in 1993 as a multi-level marketing (MLM) company to distribute dietary supplement products.[7][8] The name AdvoCare is short for "Advocates Who Care".[9] Before founding AdvoCare, Ragus worked as a regional vice president for Fidelity Union Insurance, and as a MLM distributor for Herbalife. He had initially founded the MLM company Omnitrition International in 1989. Ragus was in training camp with the National Football League's Kansas City Chiefs in the 1960s.[9][10] He died in 2001 at the age of 58.[11][12]
where can i buy advocare products
AdvoCare sells dietary supplements and related products, such as an energy drink. AdvoCare also sells products under the brand names Trim, Active, Well, Performance Elite, Fit, and 24 Day Challenge.[19]
In 2009, a Dallas County jury awarded $1.9 million in damages against AdvoCare after finding that the company had engaged in deceptive trade practices and unfairly canceled agreements with two of its distributors.[52] According to the lawsuit, litigants Bruce and Teresa Badgett of Arlington, Texas, had been active and profitable marketers of AdvoCare products for more than a dozen years before their distributorship was canceled by the company in 2006 "based upon vague and trumped-up charges." The jury found that AdvoCare engaged in false, misleading, or deceptive practices that damaged the Badgetts and that the termination provisions of the distributor contract with AdvoCare were unconscionable, according to court documents. AdvoCare disputed the ruling[52] and on April 30, 2010, filed to appeal the decision on the basis that the plaintiffs were not customers and therefore did not fit the statutory definition necessary to be covered under the Texas Deceptive Trade Practices Act.[53] The appeal was dismissed on March 13, 2012, and the company was ordered to reimburse the Badgett's for court costs related to their defense in the appeal case.[54]
The quarterback wasn't wrong. Today, the company boasts an army of 640,000 salespeople, up from 97,000 in 2010. These independent distributors sell energy drinks, shakes and supplements directly to consumers. But AdvoCare is pitching more than nutritional products. It's also offering people a pathway to financial freedom -- the opportunity to "design their own lives" by selling those products and to earn even more money by recruiting others to join the fold. This business model, called multilevel marketing, helped the company generate $719 million in net revenue last year.
And while the company claims its primary objective is selling products, many of its distributors tell a different story. ESPN interviewed more than 30 current and former salespeople, the vast majority of whom said their focus, and the focus of their superiors, was on recruiting other distributors. These new members, many of whom are drawn to the business' strong religious culture or convinced of its credibility by its ties to the sports world, infuse the company with new funds -- money that ultimately flows up to the powerful people who walk the stage at Success School.
By 2013, Chavez had spent three years trying to build an AdvoCare business. He had taken out a loan on his 401(k) and quit his government job, dropping $15,000 on products that he struggled to sell. He had hosted innumerable parties in his living room, handing out samples to reluctant attendees, and printed business cards with Brees' face on them. He barely broke even -- but he kept at it, convinced that someday he would be the one on AdvoCare's stage.
AdvoCare is a company that sells energy drinks, shakes and supplements directly to consumers, via a model called multilevel marketing. Salespeople are recruited to sell the products, and then encouraged -- and financially incentivized -- to recruit others to sell them as well. AdvoCare, which has used athlete endorsers and event sponsorships to cultivate deep ties to the sports world, portrays itself as a company that "offers the average American the chance to make an above-average income," but, in truth, only a tiny percentage of salespeople ever make significant money.
It's also less controversial. While MLMs do rely on direct sales of products to customers, they also pay their salespeople commissions based on their recruits' purchases and, in turn, on the purchases of their recruits' recruits. These chains -- known as "downlines" -- continue to grow as long as members sign new salespeople, so some distributors can reap significant earnings without selling much on their own. This innovation, which kept MLMs afloat as traditional direct sellers fizzled out (remember encyclopedia salesmen?), also sent some companies down a slippery legal slope. Because MLMs reward people for recruiting others, they can run the risk of mutating into pyramid schemes -- illegal scams in which new members, who often make big initial buy-ins, are constantly sought so their money can be funneled up to the original members.
By 2007, though, business began to boom again. When the economy collapsed, millions of Americans were either out of work or looking for extra cash; AdvoCare's message -- work from home, make more money, design your own life -- glimmered like an oasis. The company hired an experienced CEO and doubled down on sports marketing. In 2010, AdvoCare brought on Brees as its national spokesman; the company pays him for his appearances, gives him products and donates to his charity. Brees, who declined an interview with ESPN but answered questions via email, says he's been an AdvoCare user since 2002. "AdvoCare products have had a big role in my success as an NFL player and have certainly prolonged my career," he says.
William Keep, the dean of the College of New Jersey's School of Business, says these sports deals are crucial to MLMs because they legitimize murky companies to the outside world. "If you're inviting someone into a situation where they can't verify a lot, how do you help them feel better about the decision?" asks Keep, who has co-authored research on MLMs with an FTC economist. "You bring in these kinds of sponsorships."
Brees, along with the other athletes who sign with the company -- Carli Lloyd, Sam Bradford and Wes Welker are all past endorsers -- are integral to a popular AdvoCare sales and recruitment technique called the "Bulletproof Shield." Distributors preach this method with the help of a chart: The salesperson sits in a bubble in the middle, flanked by "endorsements" and a "scientific and medical advisory board." The basic concept is that the distributor should deflect questions about the company by replying, "Well, I don't know about (X), but what I do know is" -- and then referencing specific athletes or doctors who have vouched for AdvoCare. "You sell the products and the opportunity with the heart and the eyes, not extensive knowledge," explains one training manual.
AdvoCare and its athlete endorsers pitch the company as a way to change lives and achieve "financial freedom." Salespeople can make money by selling products, though the big bucks come from recruiting members. But the odds are long. Of AdvoCare's 517,666 salespeople in 2014, only 0.54 percent made $10,000 from the company and just 0.06 percent exceeded $100,000. Here are the numbers from that year, the most recent available. All data from AdvoCare's official 2014 income disclosure statement.
Several days later, a DVD arrived in their mailbox. They watched a video of a younger couple driving a golf cart around their expansive property, boasting about how they had quit their jobs and sent their sons to private school. The Crossans were mesmerized. They decided to enter at the "advisor" level, purchasing more than $2,000 worth of products in order to gain access to a 40 percent discount. (Top distributors pitch this as "the fastest, most economic way" to build a business.) By then, Lori had gotten a job at a local utility company, but she was making significantly less than she did before the recession. "I wanted an income supplement," she says. "I wanted the lifestyle that we used to have."
When you become an AdvoCare distributor, you sign a long, complicated contract -- the latest version is 33 pages -- that outlines the company's pay plan. AdvoCare's products are generally pricier than their store-brand equivalents, but advisors can buy them at a discount to resell. (AdvoCare forbids distributors from using sites like Amazon or eBay; widespread availability would undermine the direct-selling model.) If advisors sign people up, they can earn up to 3.5 percent of the retail value of products bought by their recruits and the people below them, and receive bonuses for growing their downlines.
Like many distributors, Crossan found it hard to sell the products. She says she moved only three 24-Day Challenges over the course of a year, two of which went to her sister, so she tried to recruit other advisors. This too proved challenging. "People don't have that kind of money in a small logging town," she says.
In order to qualify for commissions each month, AdvoCare distributors must achieve a certain amount of sales volume, a mandate that drives some members to purchase products for the sake of meeting the quota. Crossan wasn't bringing on new recruits, but she kept buying products, goaded by the people above her in the organization. "They said, 'You gotta spend money to make money,'" she says. She bought AdvoCare-issued magazines; she listened to prerecorded calls, trying to glean tips from her superiors. At one point, she clicked on a training video that offered scripts for inviting people to mixers. One line jumped out. "It said, 'I've been thinking about you, and you've been heavy on my heart.'"
When Crossan and her husband did their taxes after leaving AdvoCare in 2011, they realized they had spent more than $6,000 on products, most of which had expired before they decided to return them. (AdvoCare gives salespeople 30 days to return products or up to a year if they forfeit their distributorship.) Unlike people who had started a business, they had built no equity -- it was just money down the drain. "I was like, 'Holy crap -- we went through our savings,'" she says. "'What on earth did we do?'" 041b061a72