Rebecca Barry: Dreaming of instant wealth? Dream on

I've never been suckered easily. As a teenager I bought some moisturiser off an infomercial and it gave me a rash so I cancelled the next 15 years' order, packed the product back in the box and couriered it back to Hong Kong with a bottle of Guerlain to show them how it's done.

When the couple in tracksuits invited me to set up my own business that would make money "while you sleep", I said: "I'm not superwoman! You be on your way."

And when the friendly lady rang and said I'd won the last amazing prize and I'd just have to secure it by giving her my credit card details, I said: "I'm not really the last prize-winner am I?" as I got out my wallet.

So I was a bit wary when the VIP invitation arrived in the mail, although strangely I noticed it only after I shook the newspaper open and some flyers dropped out. "Walk Away with Cutting-Edge Secrets" it promised in big, red, underlined lettering.

"How the Smart Money is Made Today" it proclaimed, at which point I realised the money I'd made in the past really was a bit dumb. "WARNING" it screamed, and I dropped it in case it exploded. "First 150 People to Respond Come for Free - The Rest Pay $295." And then in red lettering, italics and brackets: "Still Good Value."

There were at least two wealth creation seminars held in Auckland at the weekend, presumably timed to entice recession victims to leave their financial woes behind and embark on a "first-class lifestyle". They're obviously on to something.

Most of the speakers have seductive rags-to-riches stories, including the former gangster who now makes $100,000 a month online. I don't know how it works and, try as I might, I can't for the life of me figure it out by attending the speakers' free tutorials on YouTube either.

This in the same week that self-made millionaire, "fearless leader" (his words) and USANA member Kevin Abdulrahman allegedly fled the country, leaving behind a Ferrari bought on credit and a fascinating website offering such telling gems as "a fiction today, a reality tomorrow".

Does that make me want to spend 10 hours in the company of marketing gurus who've written a brochure teeming with sensational sales copy designed to sell a seminar in which you learn to write sensational sales copy?

Do I want to know how to make people desperate to buy my product thanks to words designed to make me desperate to go to the seminar? There's something a bit weird about that, like staring at a spiral for too long.

On Friday afternoon, only 55 people had taken up the offer of free tickets to one of these events, so I guess the amazing sales pitch only works on the desperate few. I sincerely hope that whoever attended is now busy creating more wealth than they know what to do with, and that they haven't given up their day jobs.

What's suspicious is the premise that anyone can supposedly do it and yet "it" remains so elusive it doesn't appear to have anything to do with making money out of your current business. The more you try to learn how it works, the less you seem to know.

I can't help but think of all the "successful" people espousing the doctrine of The Secret. Weren't they all self-help gurus?

You don't see Eric Watson pumping people up on how to get rich. He doesn't need to.

"Out of every group that I talk to, I select a few individuals to work with me closely side by side, teach them everything I know, transform their life," one of the gurus explains for helping us deluded 9-5ers. That implies that by the time you've reached that ecstatic, I-will-be-rich high at the end of the seminar, he tries to sign you up to something else.

If that doesn't work for you, there's a whole world of entrepreneurs keen to make you rich online. It's pretty vague but I must admit I'm a fan of The Rich Jerk, an anonymous, online marketer who gives such helpful advice as "Make sure your sales page doesn't suck donkey balls". I also quite like the guy who sells fake dogs on eBay. That has to be a good pet for the recession.

I suspect this motivational, money-making business is going to take off this year, with cults and discount lobotomies. And while I have no doubt that the smiling faces on the VIP invite are spending their days eating gold-plated oysters on their heli-yachts, I'm not worried I missed their sermon.

I've got 1,000,000 being delivered into my account this week by a Ms Zainabu Burani from British Telecom.