How Instagram Fostered Recession-Ready Scams, Dressed as Female Empowerment (Part II)

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In part one of this series, Raise The Bar explored how over the last decade Instagram has evolved into a platform ripe for influencing, selling and ultimately, exploitation. We shed light on MLM schemes, highlighting how their identifying methods of manipulation are now prevalent in various guises on the app. In part two, we will look at a situation that broadly encompasses why business offerings advertised and sold via Instagram can go so drastically wrong.

Influencer Sarah Akwisombe claims to have made and lost one million pounds selling courses and coaching via the app. Assertions that she did so unethically, and by using MLM techniques, were followed by an apparent apology and admission video. However, the video has since been removed, and continued refund requests have been met with combative replies. Via Akwisombe’s far-reaching platforms, we’ve heard her side of the story. What of the dozens of women who claim that much more than their finances were damaged in the fallout?

As far as business offerings for ambitious women finding their way through a global pandemic go, “fun, straight-up courses to help you build your business and brand” will have read to some as borderline sublime. This is the tagline of No Bull Business School (NBBS), founded by Instagram influencer Sarah Akwisombe. While her personal website claims it was founded in 2015, NBBS was actually incorporated in January 2017. For three years, Akwisombe built a largely satisfied client base and enjoyed the fruits of her entrepreneurial venture. She doesn’t hold formal qualifications, and how much self-education and hands-on experience Sarah has is unclear. However, her clients were happy and her services were reasonably priced.

As the business grew, so did the roster and scope of courses on offer. As 2020 rapidly unfolded as a year when making rewarding connections and attending IRL events stood somewhere between difficult and impossible, digitised versions stepped in. Offering a glimmer of inspiration in an otherwise bleak year, Akwisombe formulated a right place, right time service by pivoting the nature, structure and delivery of her offering, and her sales methods. The courses and subsequent 1-2-1 and group coaching services on sale this year were well-suited to her tens of thousands of social followers. With 47,000 followers of her personal Instagram page, and 28,000 on the NBBS business page, Awkisombe’s fans were engaged, trusting and ready to invest in her.

It was in mid-July that Akwisombe announced two pieces of news that would be pivotal to what was to come. In a now-deleted Instagram video, she announced, “I’ve recently gone into becoming a coach”, and revealed that 10 weeks prior she had begun working with a coach of her own, “who you now know and love thanks to me as Llewy Davies.” The pair subsequently set up No Exit Ltd. on 14th September 2020.

She goes on to describe him as someone she “randomly found”, who “represented a lot of things that were not how I do business or how I thought things should happen.” Characterising him as “quite intimidating” she says, “I overcame every bit of resistance in the fibre of my being, being like what the fuck are you doing Sarah, this guy could just be completely nuts.”

Financially, her gamble paid off. Akwisombe proudly reveals in the video that, having previously “done over a quarter of a million in the lockdown period,” that “currently in taking and booked business for the rest of the financial year we are at £602,720. 600 grand in turnover in the last 10 weeks. Not including business I already have, or business coming in in the future. Purely new business.”

In the midst of a worldwide pandemic, claims of a £600,000 10-week turnover are enough to turn most heads

In the midst of a worldwide pandemic, claims of a £600,000 10-week turnover are enough to turn most heads. Coming from a straight-talking woman in her mid-30s, it was not just impressive, but a beacon of what women could achieve for themselves. And while a great deal of Akwisombe’s success was self-made, it seemed that Davies had been the catalyst to this blast of income. So when Akwisombe announced that she and Davies would be teaming up to teach their ways, there came an avalanche of interest. What was this secret sauce Davies had injected Akwisombe with, and how could her followers get a dash of it too?  

Llewelyn Davies is the co-founder of Champions Of Mind, described on the businesses website as the “UK's leading performance coaching, mindset and motivation brand”. The other founder is his brother, Rhys Davies; together they also go by tttofficialuk, which stands for The Terrible Twins. On a Champions of Mind Facebook video from February 2019 entitled ‘How To Become A (PROFITABLE) Influencer Using Social Media’ Rhys breaks down “three of the top market places that are trending currently in the world.” They are property/entrepreneurship, fitness and finally “MLM, trading, people that are trying to get your attention to push you into a vehicle or a business model in which they can monetise."

Champions of Mind co-founder Rhys continues, “you know, for the people that are not highly educated in that system, you know, we could call that a pyramid scheme type things, but I won’t go into that today.”

Ladies and Gentlemen, you then rinse and repeat

The video goes on to advise influencers on social media to “position yourself (as) a person that somebody trusts”, then advises them to create low-tier products, medium-tier products and then high-tier products. "Whilst taking people through the transition, you’ve created the belief and the trust,” he says, before adding, “Ladies and Gentlemen, you then rinse and repeat”.

The “pyramid scheme type things” that Champions of Mind, the coaching company Akwisombe hired, refer to in their Facebook video are, in fact, illegal. The Consumer Protection from Unfair Trading Regulations 2008 Act describes the practice as “Establishing, operating or promoting a pyramid promotional scheme where a consumer gives consideration for the opportunity to receive compensation that is derived primarily from the introduction of other consumers into the scheme rather than from the sale or consumption of products.”

Whether Akwisombe was being taught these lessons and methods by the other Davies brother is unknown. But there were similarities between Champions Of Mind’s advice and Akwisombe’s offering. Using her Instagram, Akwisombe had gotten attention and pushed her followers into a business model she was actively monetising. To this day, her courses span three tiers; courses such as ‘How To Caption Like A Boss’ are £35, while a ‘Customer Conversion Machine’ course is £179. There are the high tier offerings, such as her £1,200 Business Accelerator course.

So, I made a million

In September, four months since she began working with Llewellyn Davies, and two months after her £600,000 turnover announcement, Akwisombe shared that intake of a new course stood at 570 with “minimal promo, no ad spend and two mailouts”, making it the first “six-figure course launch. 120K and counting” for her school. On September 14th, No Exit Ltd was set up, and just four days later, on September 18th, Akwisombe made a 30-minute Instagram Live with Davies entitled “So, I made a million.” Congratulatory videos and messages populated her Stories, adorned with emojis of clapping hands and confetti. Whether clients were in contract with NBBS or No Exit is unclear, as is which business clients were paying their money too.

The tone was starkly different in the video Akwisombe posted 10 days later, on September 28th.

“I feel like I kind of almost like owe you all an apology. A lot of what I stand for got lost in a lot of what I’ve been doing. I think it’s important to say that I recognise that and a lot of shit is going to change. I started fucking around with beliefs and values that I’ve held for a long time.”

I’ve neglected delivering good work for people which has always been something that I massively pride myself on

“I’ve neglected delivering good work for people which has always been something that I massively pride myself on. I’ll sell a product or a service but it will be fucking banging, and it will be worth 10 times what you paid for it. And recently that’s fallen off and it hasn’t been like that, it’s just been money, money, money. Get the money in, get the money in. Sometimes the pursuit of it can pull you away from what you were originally trying to do.” 

“I’m looking back over the last few months and I’m questioning a lot of things,” she says. “I get it, a lot of what everybody’s been saying about who I’m becoming and how I’ve been and all of that kind of stuff, I get it, you’re not wrong. I’m a really strong person and I got swept up” Akwisombe told her followers.

“I’ve basically made a million and then lost it in the same fucking day.”

***

When Caroline Fey* watched this video, her relief was immense. Having spent £4,500 on three months of 1-2-1 coaching from Akwisombe, she kept an eye on her emails, expecting her ex-coach to reach out and give the apology she’d had been waiting months for. Maybe she’d even refund her? After all, here was a video admitting she hadn’t delivered her usual levels of service. Contact was inevitable, she thought.

The email never arrived. Instead, the video was deleted. And so began weeks of controversy.

For Fey, her dealings with Akwisombe began before the subsequent partnership with Davies.

“I did Sarah’s 4-week Money Manifesting course,” Fey tells me. “It was done in collaboration with another woman, and it wasn’t rocket science, but it was still really good. The content was interesting, the course was well structured and there were a lot of materials provided and contact made.”

Happy with what she’d received, Fey began considering signing up for 1-2-1 coaching.

It’s designed like that; you’re zoomed along and made to feel like someone else might snap up your place if you don’t move fast

“It seemed like perfect timing; I’d just had a good month financially. I mentioned it to Sarah and within a day she called me directly. I told her my specific goals for my business, including earning a five-figure monthly income and she was adamant she could get me there. It was a spur of the moment decision, but it’s designed like that; you’re zoomed along and made to feel like someone else might snap up your place if you don’t move fast. The cost was £4,500 for 3 months.” Fey understands that there were around 20 others signed up for 1-2-1 coaching at the same time.

“Around three weeks in I started to feel a little uncomfortable because we still hadn’t made a roadmap for the 12 weeks, and phone calls were only 15-45 minutes and often ad-hoc,” she says. “I realised in hindsight that there was no XYZ agreed. The roadmap never materialised. I asked and asked and eventually, she said we can’t plan because I don’t know what you’ll be dealing with each week. But that wasn’t what she’d promised me on the sales call. When we did speak, she would ask me basic questions that didn’t feel tailored to me. When I asked for concrete financial and strategy advice she told me to work on ‘personal development’ and that was it.”

The numbers didn’t add up

 “A few weeks in, she offered me a ‘VIP slot’ to work with her for a year. It would be £23,000.” Fey’s hesitation was immediate. “The numbers didn’t add up; I was paying £4,500 for 3 months; she wasn’t offering any more value for the year, so the cost should have been £18,000. Where did she get extra £5,000 for her fee from?”

“When I asked for help looking at my financial projections for the year, partly based off the work I was doing with her, she lashed out, making me feel guilty and confused saying things like “I don’t know why you think this has got anything to do with me?” Fey tells me. She declined the offer – “when people are throwing those numbers around, you’re not really in reality anymore” - but having already paid for her three months of coaching, pushed on. She says the dynamic took a toll on her mental health and self-worth.

“I was constantly made to feel like I was letting her down. I was following all of her advice – like exercise at 6am, for example – she’d say, “if you know something isn’t working, don’t just do what someone else tells you to do”. But if I didn’t do exactly what she would say, she’d say “what can I do if you don’t do what I say?” I hadn’t made any more money, and as time moved on I got less of her time. Over the last two weeks, we spoke for an hour. Given the fee, that hour worked out at £800.”

As Autumn arrived, Fey was considering requesting a refund, “but everything exploded and lots of people started asking for them. I didn’t want to look like I was just jumping on the bandwagon. She posted and then deleted the apology video. I started therapy. This was one of the first topics that came up. I’ve still not found the confidence to ask.”

Beccy Watkinson, who spent around £1,400 on various courses by Akwisombe, tells me that at least 100 women who took her courses and coaching, both with and without Davies’ contribution, have been in touch saying they feel that they are due a refund or apology.  

When she began talking about her quest for a million and was really hyping up her business, I was inspired

“I had followed her No Bull Business School for a while, and over the summer it seemed like she was popping up constantly. I’d bought a few accessibly priced £35 courses. Business was down for me due to the pandemic, so when she began talking about her quest for a million and was really hyping up her business, I was inspired.”

Along with 250 others, Watkinson signed up to Akwisombe’s first course in partnership with Davies, called Smashing It.

“It was sold as a mix of personal development and business skills. They would deliver a low-cost version of what they were doing together; £1,200 for a six-month course, paid monthly. But in the 2nd month, they announced that they were going to do a Business Accelerator course also, and that Smashing It had only ever been sold as personal development focussed. Now, if you wanted help with your business, you also had to sign up to the Business Accelerator course, which would be £199 on its own, or £149 if you were already signed up to Smashing It.”

There was boasting on social media that it had taken them just two hours to create the course and get it out for sale

Watkinson notes that some concerns were raised about this between course attendees in private conversations but echoes what Fey said about realising they had never been furnished with a syllabus or action plan. “It was difficult to prove what had been promised verbally. Looking back, there were warning signs in the first session; there was boasting on social media that it had taken them just two hours to create the course and get it out for sale. It was only when things began to unravel that we began kicking ourselves for having placed our trust in them in the first place.”

“We were told lots of people were still desperate to get into Smashing It, and I think that they made the Business Accelerator course to catch the extra interest of those. I also think they looked at the 250 people already signed up and realised that by splitting their offering in two, they could make twice as much money.”

Sarah was achieving financial success when the rest of the world was struggling, and she didn’t seem to have any self-doubt, worry or anxiety either

Sian Astley also signed up for Smashing It alongside Watkinson. Astley, who had met Akwisombe a couple of times socially, saw how Davies “was revolutionising her business and seeming to propel her forward to earn a lot of money. Sarah was achieving financial success when the rest of the world was struggling, and she didn’t seem to have any self-doubt, worry or anxiety either; it was remarkably attractive. I wanted to understand what she was doing, how, and whether it could be replicated.”

Astley notes that when the Business Accelerator course was announced, she had the same concerns as Watkinson. 

“There was a lot of upselling from about a month in. Within the first two months there had already been a couple of sessions where there wasn’t much content, and another day where she squeezed our weekly call in between other things and was very distracted, as though they were more important. I was surprised when they launched the second Accelerator; how were they going to service hundreds more people, when we weren’t getting enough attention now? It felt like the course was being set up to ride the wave they’d started, rather than servicing people already signed up.”

Everyone felt unnerved

When Akwisombe and Davies announced via an Instagram Live the names of 10% of the cohort who had been handpicked to be treated to a special day with their coaches, Astley was on the list. Along with 24 other women, she travelled to Down Hall in Essex for a day of networking, discussions, talks and workshops. Shortly after, the two coaches unfollowed each other on social media, and “things fell apart”. After Davies missed one of the weekly 1-hour Zoom calls, Akwisombe “disappeared”, and neither coach posted in the private Facebook group for several days. “Everyone felt unnerved and panicking about what was happening, both from financial and emotionally invested perspectives. We were genuinely worried that someone was seriously ill,” says Astley.

In transpired that the two mentors were no longer on speaking terms. Smashing It was cancelled three months in, and Business Accelerator was cancelled before it even began.  

***

Fey*, Watkinson and Astley all believe that Akwisombe got swept up by her quest to make the most money she could, using her followers and customers to get there.

Astley tried to remain supportive of her ex-coach and to give her the benefit of the doubt. However, as details unfolded on and off social media, she saw a different side to what she had been a part of.

I feel like I was just somebody being shaken down for cash

“I feel like I was just somebody being shaken down for cash. Smashing It looked like it was created to lift people up, to make them part of something fabulous. Instead, it was a vehicle to make Sarah a million, a train gathering momentum to take money for a service that wasn’t what they’d promised. People weren’t treated like valued customers, because they weren’t; they were just stepping stones. Women used their savings and took out loans for her course and coaching and it was all smoke and mirrors.”

“I admired Sarah,” says Astley, “and had they run the course it was supposed to be run, they’d have ended up with something quite special, but greed took over, and it exploded what could have been a brilliant business.”

Astley adds that a significant part of her disappointment in Akwisombe lies in the fact that she has “washed her hands of unhappy customers and failed to take any responsibility for the damage her mentor did to some of her followers.” As one user on the forum Tattle phrased it, “As an outsider, Llewy looked like a con man. However, as Sarah said he was legit, that makes you think he was.” Astley agrees; “she brought Llewy into the fold, into these women’s lives.”

On a now-deleted Instagram Live made on October 13th, Akwisombe discussed her relationship with her mentor. She begins by saying “In May I started working with a mentor who I’m not going to name because they say we’re being libellous,” but twice uses the name Llewy.  

Over the course of the 45-minute video, Akwisombe categorises the mentor as manipulating, narcissistic, controlling, abrasive, gaslighting and other such terms. She says that she was worried he was going to “fuck off with the money” from their Business Accelerator course, and that he was the catalyst for making her take on additional clients and add more courses, “I was pushed to take on more work; in his eyes, this is what it was going to take to make a million.” She also recalls that she was reticent to announce their mentorship “I don’t think my audience are going to like you,” she recalls telling him. “I don’t even like you really.”

Akwisombe goes onto explain her side of the story; namely, that Davies was controlling her.

I had no idea that that’s a control tactic, I didn’t know any of this I just thought that’s a nice idea…

“Over a period of time, he made me more and more co-dependent on him for all aspects of my life, work and career” she says, claiming that after one disagreement early on, the mentor threatened to refund her money and cut off her coaching and all contact. “I was really worried and begged to stay on; it was a first control tactic.” She refers to various other ‘control tactics’ through the video; when referring to the event Sian and 24 others attended, she says “I had no idea that that’s a control tactic, I didn’t know any of this I just thought that’s a nice idea… I had no idea that that’s an MLM tactic.”

Davies was approached by Women On Top with the opportunity to reply to claims made against him. He made no comment, but passed our communication to his legal team. Akwisombe was also approached. She requested that her previous comments, made in part 1 of this series, were reused. You can read these here.

Fey believes that these MLM tactics crept into her own coaching sessions once Llewy began mentoring Sarah. “I felt trapped. People on her courses were constantly warned to not be negative; good vibes only! Anyone who spoke up was shut down. And she claimed that she had become a millionaire, but it was a lie. A million in booked business is not the same as a million in the bank. She’d use pet words like ‘babe’ to make me feel like we were friends, but that’s disorientating when someone can flip on you suddenly. And she had been training in Neuro-Linguistic Programming (NLP) with Llewy, which can be used in a manipulative manner.” Since the No Exit courses were cancelled, Davies has launched four new companies. One is named “NLP Worldwide”. Another, “Hypnosis Training UK”.  

I was just completely fucking hustled

Akwisombe also says in the video that she became aware of 30 or 40 people who were asking for “10s if not 100s of thousands of pounds back” in refunds from her mentor and his business partner. “The more that come forward, it’s like a wildfire… to the point where we’re hearing about the exact same thing that happened to me. When a sea of people come forward… when you start hearing all these stories, and reading up on it, the abusive cycle it’s just like oh my god I was just completely fucking hustled.”

However, Akwisombe seems unable to comprehend that this time for retrospection, and realisation of being mistreated, is why her own ex-clients are asking for refunds and apologies. “(People were) asking for refunds for other things that I’ve run, so I’m starting to see this as kind of like a cancer,” she says “I can understand at first on things we were involved in, but it started to become things that I’d been doing on my own. At first, we were doing them out of goodwill”, she says, but adds that people would share these refunds on Tattle and increasing numbers of people began coming forward, which she found disingenuous. As such, she stopped giving refunds for previous courses. “I don’t feel like it’s a fair request to ask for money back for stuff that you did and completed in June and now on reflection, now all this is coming to light, don’t like it.” She adds that while she has previously said she wasn’t at her best, she says that she actually meant “mentally, behind the scenes.”

Elsewhere in the video, Akwisombe appears sympathetic towards people who haven’t wanted to come out against her own mentors. However, when queries about her own behaviour and services are raised on her Instagram, she dismisses them. “I delete and block comments from spam accounts or those with lies/ accusations that are false,” she wrote on 16th November.

I am not your fucking poster girl for making your life a success

Occasionally, comments remain, and Akwisombe becomes combative. She has also taken to posting long captions under her photos that could be construed as deliberately inflammatory. “Why you shouldn’t give a shiny shit what anyone thinks about you”, reads one. “I am not your fucking poster girl for making your life a success,” proclaims another.

This trend of deleting comments and posts is something her followers have grown accustomed to; the video in which she admits her services have been subpar has also been deleted. But it’s this apology that riles many women; why did she apologise for inferior services and then dismiss complaints and refund requests? Why can she not see how her coaching was impacted by Davies, not just her courses? And why won’t she acknowledge that clients’ retrospections on their time with her, knowing the full story, are just as valid as her retrospections on her time with Davies? There are still no answers to these questions.

At the point of publication, all refunds for the Business Accelerator and some refunds for Smashing It have been processed. However, we are aware that some women have asked for refunds that have been denied. Other women haven’t asked for refunds, for fear of repercussions, including Fey, who paid out £4,500 for her coaching.

customers have been blocked by her on Instagram

Despite Akwisombe’s claims to Raise The Bar that she has an open door policy, customers have been blocked by her on Instagram. In response, some have set up their own communities to share experiences and advice, offering reassurance that they are not the ones to blame for the damage done. Akwisombe may claim that she made and lost a million, but women like Fey, Watksinson and Astley put their trust into a woman who ultimately, they say, let them down and then refused to take comprehensive steps to make sufficient amends. They wait in limbo to see what the pair will do, say, or indeed sell, next.

This bubble of unsustainable and undefined coaching and cross-selling was always going to implode; Akwisombe and Davies were the first of potentially many who could’ve been the centre of this story. How they choose to end this story is up to them. For us, we’ll be coming to an end of our series with our third and final instalment, available next week on our podcast.

*Names have been changed to protect identities

written by Grace Holliday


If you have been affected by the topics discussed in this article and need support, here are some free organisations you can get in touch with:



 

 
 

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Grace Holliday

Grace Holliday is a freelance journalist and journalism lecturer. She specialises in features and opinion writing, particularly on issues of identity, including explorations of race, gender, age and class. Bylines include the Guardian, Independent, Psychologies, Glamour and Gal-dem, amongst others. A proud Northerner, she lives in Leeds with her husband and an exhausting bengal kitten called Nora.

http://www.graceholliday.co.uk/
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How Instagram Fostered Recession-Ready Scams, Dressed as Female Empowerment (Part III)

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How Instagram Fostered Recession-Ready Scams, Dressed as Female Empowerment (Part I)