Wait… What is this place?
Sumida Ward, Tokyo.
The company had been launched by purchasing a dormant corporate registration and reviving it with a new name. Its declared business? Selling health supplements.
Even the name—Lifestyle Uplift (pseudonym)—sounded warm and caring, as if it had the customers’ health in mind. I was genuinely looking forward to meeting the president.
No listing with NTT. I called the number provided by the client—but no answer. I tried several more times. Still nothing.
As mentioned before, even when companies refuse interviews, we’re still required to visit the premises.
By then, I was experienced enough to know that such visits often wrapped up quickly and smoothly.
“This’ll be an easy one,” I thought as I headed toward Sumida.
At the location, there was no sign bearing the name Lifestyle Uplift.
Instead, I found a wide, unfurnished floor filled with a dozen or so older women busily stuffing things into a mountain of white cardboard boxes.
“Excuse me, I’m from a credit investigation firm. Is President Tatsuko available?”
The women turned their gaze toward the back of the room.
Ah, that’s what this is.
“That would be me.”
Mr. Tatsuko stepped out to greet me.
“So, a credit agency. What brings you here today?”
Apparently, this was his first-ever credit interview.
“A client company of ours is interested in your firm and requested a credit check. I’d like to ask you a few questions about your operations.”
The standard opener.
He led me into what was clearly a president’s office—elegantly wood-paneled, a complete contrast to the room full of boxes. The huge whiteboard in the room stood out.
“What we do is sell health supplements to our members—so that Japanese citizens can live comfortably in retirement.”
Huh? What does retirement have to do with members-only supplement sales?
Seeing that I was confused, Mr. Tatsuko picked up a marker and began drawing on the whiteboard.
“So this member sells this supplement to someone, right? Then that person sells to someone else. And each time a sale is made, a percentage is shared with the people above. It all adds up—eventually, the original member earns enough to retire comfortably without doing much at all.”
Ah. Multi-level marketing. Even a green investigator like me could see it clearly.
Mr. Tatsuko continued:
“Japanese people tend to demonize this kind of model and call it ‘MLM’ or ‘pyramid scheme.’ But in America, it’s totally normal. There are big MLM companies that are socially accepted over there.”
“When Japan imports ideas from abroad, we always get it wrong. Take motels, for example—they’re practical roadside lodgings in the U.S., but here they ended up all pink and shady.”
Yikes. I didn’t know enough to argue. Sure, MLMs had a bad rep, but I couldn’t say why. I had no solid counterargument.
“I see. That’s very interesting. By the way, where do you source this blueberry health supplement from?”
He gave me the name of a regional supplier: XXXX.
The interview dragged on for about two hours. I apologized for the unexpected visit, thanked him, and got ready to leave.
“You know, this is the first time I’ve felt like someone actually understood my business. I believe in this! What people call MLM—this business can save society! Thanks for today.”
Post-Interview Research
I went back and started researching MLMs—why exactly are they viewed so negatively?
Turns out, legally there’s a difference: multi-level marketing (MLM) is legal, while endless chain schemes (Ponzi schemes) are not. It was hard to determine which one this was.
Then I found this clause in an article:
“…However, when reselling products, one must not secure profit margins that clearly exceed reasonable social norms.”
Mr. Tatsuko was passionate, no doubt. But I couldn’t shake the sense that something wasn’t right. I didn’t feel good about reporting the company as clean, so I decided to dig deeper. That clause about profit margins was my only shot.
“Hi, I’m with a credit agency in Tokyo. Do you do business with a company called Lifestyle Uplift in Sumida?”
“Oh yeah. Lately they’ve been ordering a ton. I hear they resell our stuff at crazy markups and have tons of requests coming in.”
“Do they ever talk about how much profit they make?”
“Ninety percent, they said.”
Bingo. That was the proof I needed.
Final Report
Personally, I kind of liked Mr. Tatsuko. He had passion, conviction, and a calm personality.
But… something about the whole operation felt off.
The purchased dormant registration, the lack of signage, the piled-up boxes, the busy part-time workers—it all felt like a textbook shady setup.
The final nail in the coffin? That excessive profit margin.
I submitted my report: “Caution Advised.”
Goodbye, Mr. Tatsuko
The Tokyo Metropolitan Police’s Economic Crime Division arrested Tatsuko Nogo on suspicion of violating the Act Against Endless Chain Schemes. According to reports, over 11 billion yen was collected from members…
It happened weeks after my visit. I was eating a late dinner when the TV showed Mr. Tatsuko—bold and defiant—on World Business Satellite.
And I could hear his words echo in my ears:
“I believe in this! This business can absolutely save society!”
