"If any of this information came to be true, it is as shocking to me as it's shocking to all of you."
--Ali Ayad, before dropping all contact with his staff.
Suppose you're a young professional looking for a good job, and a pandemic hits. Suppose, however, your specific talents (graphic design, for example), make it comparatively easy for you to work online. Suppose that a company with a ten-year history was looking for fresh people with your skills. You research the company, and discover they have worked on design and advertising for the likes of Samsung and Facebook. Their projects, highlighted at the corporate website, look exactly like what a hip, successful agency would do. You even recognize some of them. The people listed on the corporate banner all boast impressive resumes. You get interviewed by the charismatic CEO of the agency, Ali Ayad, formerly of Nike. It goes very well.
Suppose they hire you. You would have to work on a six-month internship when you could only expect a commission on deals closed. At the end of this probationary period, you're promised a contract with a respectable professional starting salary.
Suppose that, after nearly six months of hard work, often involving sacrifices in pursuit of a more secure future, you learn the company does not actually exist. You've racked up considerable credit debt. Some of your associates left steady jobs that they're not getting back. At least one of them, operating out of Dubai with its notoriously strict regulations, could face legal charges as a result his ingenuous participation in this charade.
The hip and cheerful head of the "human-centered" company, Madbird Designs, is now ghosting you and everyone you've seen in the Zoom meetings.
The downfall of Madbird began when a couple of its bright young employees grew suspicious. Gemma Brett checked out the firm's physical address, and discovered an upscale residential building which had no business suites. She contacted Antonia Stuart, another employee she'd come to know, and they investigated further. What they found was that Madbird's portfolio consisted of projects completed by other agencies. Despite their claim to have been operating for a decade, founder Ali Ayad had registered Madbird in 2020 on the same day he started interviewing his prospective employees. A handful of the company's senior employees, people who had sent out memos and emails, did not appear to exist at all. This included two of the men on the masthead, "Dave Stanfield" and "Nigel White." The photo for one was a Getty stock image of a "ginger man." The other was of a photogenic beehive maker from Prague who had no awareness of Madbird's existence. Their resumes, Linkedin profiles, and other e-traces were manufactured. Someone had spliced together biographies from those found at other corporate websites. The design company had even swiped the design of their website from another design company.
Brett and Stuart compiled what they knew and sent a mass email to Madbird's employees, using the pseudonym "Jane Smith." As the non-existent company faded, outside sources-- most notably, the BBC-- began investigating further. What the heck was going on? And who, among Madbird's top executives, actually led a flesh-and-blood existence?
One was quickly tracked down. He had a legitimately impressive resume which gave Madbird mad credibility. However, he worked for another agency entirely and had never heard of Madbird. He did not appreciate their use of his name. Another has proved problematic. She has claimed, at various times, to be another victim and to have met with the imaginary Dave Stanfield. Then she stopped talking to the media altogether. The rest of the company's top talent were hanging around the executive lounge with Harvey the Rabbit and the Tooth Fairy.
That left the top dog himself, Ali Ayad.
According to his bio, Ayad graduated from the University of Southern California and Concordia University He'd worked for a range of companies before founding Madbird-- most notably Nike. A self-described "Influencer," he had a popular Instagram account with 90,000 followers. He enjoyed flouting his appearance in the British edition of GQ.
Of course, Nike had no idea who he was. Neither did his alleged almae matres. Concordia doesn't even offer the degree he'd reportedly achieved there. The GQ appearance? Photoshop. As for his social media presence, we can only speculate how many of his followers really existed.
Reporters from the BBC tracked him down. After several attempts to get an interview, they confronted him in the street. In a tone reminiscent of the squeaking and hissing of a cornered rat, Ayad claimed the company existed, that there are two sides to the story and they didn't know his, that they had no proof that some of Madbird's employees were fictional, and that he had only tried to provide people with opportunities.
Unsurprisingly, he became the subject of lawsuits. He lost and appealed. He lost the appeals. As of this writing, he has not paid, nor has he faced criminal charges.
What, then, was Ayad's endgame? Antonia Stuart suggests that, at best, he may have been running a "fake it 'til you make it" scheme, and hoping that real sales would gradually replace fake past triumphs. At worst, he perhaps hoped to close the deal with a company or two, take the money, and run.
A BBC article wonders if he was living some kind of narcissistic fantasy and "got a kick out of pretending to be a boss" (Sands, et al). Sort of how a kid might enjoy playing "firefighter" or a gamer might escape as a warrior elf-- except Ayad's make-believe left a trail of victims.
Most of Madbird's staff lost significant amounts of money when they could least afford it. Mad Bird Design, a real company based in Olympia, Washington has had to address the confusion and distrust created by Ayad's similarly-named pretend one.
Search Ali Ayad now, and you'll mostly get articles about the Madbird debacle. A personal site also exists. I do not know if that is a holdover from his pre-exposed-as-a-fraud-days, a recent attempt to reform his reputation online, or some kind of fake troll site.
That last possibility would, at least, represent an appropriate monument for the entire Madbird debacle and the con artist who summoned it into existence.
Some sources:
Jobfished. Catrin Nye. BBC Three. 2022.
Sophie McEvoy. "There's A Reason You Can't Find Jobfished's Ali Ayad Online." Bustle. February 22, 2022.
Andrew Radford. "Jobfishing and How It Affects Business." Securus Communications. March 7, 2022. https://securuscomms.co.uk/jobfishing-and-how-it-affects-businesses/.
Leo Sands, Catrin Nye, Divya Talwar and Benjamin Lister. "Jobfished: the con that tricked dozens into working for a fake design agency." BBC. February 21, 2022.
Joe Wade. "Madbird: The Least Glamorous Scam of Our Times." The Drum. February 25, 2022. https://www.thedrum.com/opinion/2022/02/25/madbird-the-least-glamorous-scam-our-times.
Unfortunately, this really happened. However, since it's the story about a liar, I offer it for Liequest 2022.