Yes, IAPWE is a Scam. Here’s How It Works.

I should know better.

I’ve worked as a freelance writer online and marketing agency owner for decades.

(No, that’s not a typo, I got started in the late 90s when people still believed working remotely was a scam).

I swear I’ve come across every writing scam there is. From “but it’ll give you exposure,” to, “you should pay us to write,” I’ve heard it all.

IAPWE, however, came highly recommended from a fellow writer that I trust. “They pay $60 for 300 words!” they gushed. “Seriously, go check them out.”

So here’s my sordid story of checking out IAPWE, getting scammed inadvertently, finding out 31 days later when my bank contacted me about the NSF fees, and just how I fell into this ridiculous trap.

Don’t be me. Don’t be fooled. Yes, TL;DR, IAPWE is a scam. Scroll on to read the details.

(Or, if you’re more interested in finding legitimate paid writing work, check out my newest article here on Medium).

The Application Process

If it weren’t for the pandemic, I wouldn’t have even considered signing up for IAPWE. But, like many of us in marketing, content or the intersection of the two, the market got saturated when everyone started wanting to work from home. My 25+ years of experience were no match for all these fresh-faced newbies, eagerly reducing their rates to get their first byline.

And, truthfully, I get it. That’s where I was at when I started writing for profit: willing to take pretty much any writing gig, as long as it paid me enough to eat. Add a few decades in there though, and a pandemic that pretty much shut my business down for two years? I wasn’t willing to work for pennies any more.

So, when my former colleague suggested I check out IAPWE with their better-than-pennies rates, I didn’t think it would hurt to apply.

The process was simple: fill out a Google form, offer up some samples, submit, and wait. I applied on April 1, 2022, and heard back May 17th, 2022.

I should’ve deleted the email then and there.

Upon Further Review…

“… we have determined your sample meets our quality standards…”

The phrasing should have alerted me. I mean, any other job posting where the reply sounds so… forced… written by AI… poorly translated into formal form… would have me ditching the possibility of working relationship. I should have heard the warning bell clearly in my head: “Do not pass Go. You will not collect $200”.

Alas, I didn’t.

I didn’t even do a basic search, to discover other people’s experiences. I’m not even the first to complain on Medium, even, about IAPWE being a scam. Or the second, and so on.

The language was so odd, I got confused. Even reading it now, several months later, I’m perplexed by it. I think they were trying to tell me that A- I was accepted into — something, not quite sure what — and B- I would also receive an invitation to the freelancer portal.

Cool, a portal for freelancers? Sign this nerdy girl up.

The Details — Email #1

In retrospect, the genius of this scam is that the language is so bizarre, and there’s so much information thrown at you in short order (four emails, all with things to do), you just, well, do it.

First stop was to sign up for Freelancer.com, where IAPWE pays all its writers.

Yet another red flag — why can’t they pay me through any other method of payment? PayPal? Stripe? Invoice? Carrier pigeon? Anything but a freelancing website that I have no interest in joining or paying for their fees. And while IAPWE says it’s free to join Freelancer (it is), they still take a chunk out of whatever you earn in fees. Ugh. No, thank you.

I didn’t sign up, thinking I’d wait until I absolutely had to.

Email #2

Next was to “accept an invitation to our freelancer portal where we will assign writing and editing tasks”. Okay, cool. Let’s see what’s available.

However, I wasn’t able to sign up to get the freelancing work until looked at IAPWE’s membership. Uh… what?

The details were in the second email I received, and unlike the freelancer portal, it’s housed at the same URL as the IAPWE main site. Yet while it’s housed at the same URL as the main site, the email address is from, you guessed it, the freelancer portal.

It’s confusing. At the time, I didn’t notice. Bad Bonny.

So I went back into my email to find the membership details. This membership email consisted of merely a log in link, whereas the initial, welcome on board email said, among other things, “… we offer several different membership options, including a free option…”.

Okay, it’s free, I’ll take it.

I sign up / sign in, and again am presented with a choice: lifetime free membership, or paid? Free, definitely, no question, so I click that option. Then I’m told I have to give my PayPal information, but don’t worry, it’s a free account, we just need something on file.

DON’T BE DUMB (LIKE ME) AND GIVE THEM YOUR PayPal INFORMATION.

I did, because I was drawn in by the promise of good paying work, and couldn’t sign in to see the freelancer portal until I’d finished this step. So, I did.

I want to slap my hand right now just thinking about it. What was I thinking?!

Sigh. Yes, I was scammed. Moving on.

Email #3

Finally, I was able to sign up for the freelancer portal. Phew!

Signing up, however, took a good 30 minutes for this tech-savvy girl, and I had to click on the lost password button multiple times to get access. (That was email #4, and #5).

Eventually, however, I discovered what looked like a scrolling table from the late 90s, with a list of articles I could take.

But… there was nowhere to take them. Straight out of the 90s, before web forms were a thing, you read the details, you wrote the piece if you thought it was acceptable, and then you submitted it via email.

I honestly can’t make this up.

There was absolutely no way I was going to attempt an article under these conditions.

Sure, the FAQ discussed what happens if someone inadvertently writes the same article as I did. Language like, “In the event that...” and, “unlikely occurrence” someone would submit at the exact same time as you, you’d both get paid.

Even I didn’t fall for that baloney.

So, what next?

What I Was Convinced Was the Free Membership Tier With IAPWE

I decided I’d check in again in a few weeks to see if there was more in the freelancer portal that interested me. Until then, I’d just check out the membership benefits.

However, since I was a free member, I didn’t have access to much, or I was told I needed to pay for a different tier to get access. (Again, why I didn’t think there was an issue).

Every day from then forward, I received an email with IAPWE job listings. At first, I thought they were work offered by IAPWE, but then I realized no, it was a job board of freelance writing and editing gigs from mostly the US.

Were they good jobs? Yes. Most that I looked at paid well, required extensive qualifications and experience, and seemed legit. They were also all brand-new jobs, seemingly just posted. But did I want to pay for these emails? Gosh no, never in a million years.

To note, I have paid for aggregated, curated job post listings in the past. They were the same monthly price as a Basic IAPWE membership ($5.95 USD a month), but it was more targeted and tailored to my needs, sent as job postings went live, and offered me way more details than just a link and a job title (which is all the IAPWE emails give you).

Throughout the duration of my first 30 days with IAPWE, I received multiple emails telling me I now had access to new content. When I checked, however, it was only for paid members or available à la carte, for a fee.

Next, My Bank Tells Me I’m Overdrawn

31 days later, I receive an email from my bank. “Your account is overdrawn, please log in now to remedy”.

Uh, what?

I rarely use PayPal. In fact, until I investigated this charge with my bank, I’d convinced myself I didn’t have a PayPal account any more.

Regardless, when I do connect payment sources like PayPal to a bank account, I always use an empty account to avoid these kinds of situations. Meaning, there’s no money in there to take, so it can’t go into overdraft and gets sent back.

I guess in this case, my bank decided to charge me an overdraft fee, but not charge me the $5.95 USD membership fee.

After a 20-minute phone call with my bank, I contact PayPal, discover the forgotten account, and discover a monthly subscription that I’ve somehow agreed to for $5.95 USD a month.

I am 100% certain I did not consent to a paid membership. PayPal is investigating. IAPWE didn’t get any money (it’s stuck in “Pending”), and cancelled both my ‘free’ membership access, as well as my freelancer portal access. Immediately.

UPDATE on Cancelling Your IAPWE Membership

While the IAPWE website says you can email them to cancel, it’s not true.

The only solution is to cancel the membership on PayPal, and then do your best to contact them to get a refund. Keep all these emails, screenshot them, and then forward them to PayPal after about a week.

How do I know this? A- This is what I had to do, B- when I deleted the PayPal subscription, it said as much in the description directly from IAPWE, and C- other people’s experiences here, here, as well as many others.

The Fine Print at IAPWE

Usually, I’m a proponent of reading the fine print, first. I even write about the fine print for dating site reviews, so you’d think it would be the first place I’d look.

I’m still unsure how or why I overlooked so many red flags. Maybe it was my state of mind (i.e. I need to work), perhaps it was the toll of the pandemic, but it’s more likely I was tired and not thinking straight. Regardless, I did, and missed the fine print the first time.

When looking around for a refund, I found their Terms of Service and Privacy Policy pages. I don’t want to link to IAPWE and give them any sort of link juice, so I’ll paraphrase. Essentially, if you want a membership refund you have 30-days to contact them. (I discovered the charge on day 31). They might, out of the kindness of their hearts, refund you, but there’s no guarantee.

Yes, it said that, and yes, that’s another red flag.

I’ll have to wait about a week for them to reply, before I can contact PayPal. I guess it’s good I called my bank first — who cancelled the charges — and that the payment still shows as ‘Pending’ in PayPal.

I didn’t find anything else worthy of notation in the fine print, but now I’m second guessing myself and will double-check. Stay tuned.

TL;DR IAPWE is a Scam, Don’t Sign Up

… unless you like old school duke-it-out article allocation, and/or…

… unless you want daily curated emails with writing-related jobs, and don’t mind paying $5.95 USD for the service.

Otherwise, their ‘free’ membership isn’t free, and while they might have some great paying work available, there’s no way I’m investing two hours into a gig that may or may not pay me to find out, and where I need to sign up for another service to get said payment.

UPDATE

I eventually received a full refund from PayPal, and my bank waived the overdraft charges.

Most of the comments and replies I’ve received to this article have been supportive, grateful, and appreciative. I too am grateful for the audience, and happy to help fellow writers (aspiring or old pros) whenever I can.

The few negative comments and emails received were, I suspect, from whomever runs IAWPE, accusing me of having an “ulterior motive” for posting. What, I’m not sure, but they’re vehement I’m a bad person and have some sort of vested interest in tearing down a small business.

This isn’t new to me. When I first started writing for the New York Times, there were several online stalkers. The ‘best’ one followed me around for a decade online, telling me “irregardless” wasn’t a word, and how dare I use it. That is, until irregardless made it into the dictionary.

The ‘worst’ one terrorized me and my family until the legal system got involved. That person was banned from using the internet, for the rest of their lives; they were already incarcerated.

Because of these, ahem, experiences, I’m careful about what I share online. Is it factual? Can I back up my experience? Do I have proof?

So, to be clear: I support writers, and have zero tolerance for scammers. That’s why I posted my experience, and why I continue to stand by it.