The Sunnyvale Sun

Letters & Opinions

Wealth Expo presenters say, 'Get in the game'

By Sandy Sims

I went to San Francisco recently for the Wealth Expo. I don't believe in these huge pump-you-up motivational events, but I thought I might learn something about investing in property. My niece had trumpeted praise for Robert Kiyosaki--the guy who wrote Rich Dad Poor Dad--and now she's out buying property like crazy.

So OK, I thought, I'll check it out, and so, too, did thousands of others.

The ticket I received for my National Public Radio donation got me into the main hall at Moscone Center, where keynote speakers the likes of Kiyosaki, Suze Orman, Tony Robbins and Donald Trump were scheduled to give their spiels in the flesh. We soon-to-be millionaires poured into the cavernous hall through double doors, greeted by lines of young people on either side of us. They wore T-shirts sporting the word "FUN" in big red letters. The dears were cheering and clapping us through the door as if we were football stars entering the football field. And there was room for several football fields in that place.

The white chairs were set close together. In fact, they were tied together with those little plastic things the cops use as handcuffs. I found a single seat close to the front (by about 150 yards), squeezed in between two people and tried to breathe.

According to some reports, there were about 20,000 people in the hall, and in an annex across the street, there were 18,000 more watching on video. They didn't get the flesh.

Sets of three enormous screens hung from the ceiling at intervals. That meant that you could sit way in the back where the person on stage wasn't more than a speck to the eye and still see him or her up close. I could see the sweat beads on Tony Robbins' forehead, and Kiyosaki's shiny scalp under his thinning hair on the screen, and if I peered around the person's head in front of me I could see what looked like a tiny person on the stage.

The man who greeted us the first morning told us what a great time we had ahead of us. He told us to get up and clap and yell for the first speaker, Bob Kittell, to give him some energy. Standing up wasn't easy; my chair mates and I almost had to do it in unison. One, two, three and up.

I could have sworn I was at a Raiders football game.

Kittell told us we needed to interact in order to learn. "Say yes," he yelled at us. "Yes," we said over and over, as he told us about a stock website that could guarantee riches. When he was done, we ran to the various booths to buy a class and the CDs and books that explained it all. Only $1,999.99, which was a discount bargain that day only. I bit. They told me they would simply get authorization to use my credit card and wouldn't use it until I completed the class I signed up for later in April. One man assured me I could call and cancel and the authorization would be torn up. I got my bag of goodies and sat back down.

Speaker after speaker got the same screaming welcome. Tony Robbins had us on our feet most of the time, teaching us to be active learners by saying "yes."

Speakers told us we could put thousands, even millions into our pockets easily if we just followed their program. And one speaker said we need $5 million and $10,000 coming in monthly to survive. "Yes, yes, yes."

"You've got to get into the game," Kiyosaki said.

He called mutual funds, 401Ks, savings and Social Security "stupid." We should get into property, oil, gold; the stock market is going to crash. Buy his board game and play it over and over to learn how to become rich, he said. The game is $200, and he has another one. He even said we could teach others how to be rich if we bought one of his new Rich Dad Poor Dad franchises. I admit, I even called my niece to ask if I should buy the game. "No," she said, "borrow mine. It's too expensive." I knew that.

But Robbins told us that getting what we wanted wouldn't give us the feeling we were looking for. He said we needed to change our "shoulds" to "musts" and raise our standards and take action. He said the two hours he had there weren't enough for us to get what he had to give and that he offered longer sessions that would effectively change our outlook and response to life and that he was going to be giving one of his training programs at the more intimate convention center in San Jose, at a cost of $895-$2,495 (depending on how close you wanted to be to the stage and how much other "stuff" you wanted included).

And all the speakers made sure to tell us that it's more blessed to serve others, and we could make big things happen, like open low-cost housing facilities and give money to Mother Theresa.

When I tore myself away on Sunday afternoon (I skipped Trump; can't stand his hair), I was exhausted, blithering, trying to figure out how to get in the game. As I drove onto 101 from Fourth Street, the sun was shining. It was gorgeous, I began to relax, enjoy the ride, breathe, let go.

I'm going to call and get out of that $1,999.99 class.

Sandy Sims is the editor of The Sun.