Have you ever imagined getting paid just to tell strangers vague stories about their future? Sounds bizarre, right? Yet that’s exactly what happened to me. I never studied astrology, tarot, or crystal balls. I don’t even believe in the supernatural. But one day, I stumbled upon an unusual opportunity: people were willing to pay me to play the role of a fortune teller.
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This is the strange (and surprisingly profitable) story of how I earned money by pretending to be a psychic — complete with awkward encounters, hilarious misunderstandings, and some shocking truths about human psychology.
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How It All Began
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It started as a joke. A friend sent me a link to an online freelancing platform where people requested “tarot readings” or “personal horoscopes.”
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At first, I laughed. Who would actually pay for this? But curiosity got the better of me. I clicked, browsed, and realized something shocking: these posts had hundreds of buyers.
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Some were asking for love predictions. Others wanted career advice. A few even wanted to know what “their aura” said about them. And most of them were willing to pay anywhere from $5 to $50 per session.
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I thought: Wait… I can literally pretend to be a fortune teller. No crystal ball required. Just a laptop and some creativity.
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My Fortune Teller Persona
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Before diving in, I needed a character. After all, no one was going to believe me if I introduced myself as “just a random guy.”
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So, I created an alter ego: “Mystic Elara.”
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Why that name? Because it sounded mysterious enough while still friendly. I even wrote a short bio:
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“With years of spiritual insight and a deep connection to universal energy, Mystic Elara offers guidance through tarot, dreams, and intuitive readings.”
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Translation: total nonsense. But apparently, it worked.
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The First Client: Nerves and Improvisation
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My first ever client messaged me:
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“Hi Elara, I need clarity about my relationship. Do you think my partner is the one?”
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I froze. I had no tarot deck, no astrology chart, no experience in fortune telling. But I did have one thing: Google.
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I quickly looked up “common fortune teller responses” and improvised:
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“I sense a strong emotional bond, but I also see some turbulence in your connection. There may be misunderstandings, but if both of you communicate openly, there is great potential for harmony.”
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Guess what? The client loved it. They replied:
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“Wow, that really resonates with me! You’re so gifted!”
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And just like that, I earned my first $10 for typing vague, generalized advice.
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The Psychology Behind It
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Why did this work? Simple: the Barnum Effect.
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The Barnum Effect is a psychological phenomenon where people believe vague, general statements apply specifically to them. For example:
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- “You sometimes feel insecure but want others to think you’re confident.”
- “You have untapped potential you haven’t yet discovered.”
- “You value independence, but relationships are important to you.”
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Almost anyone can relate to these statements. Yet when wrapped in “mystical” language, people think it’s personal.
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That’s when I realized: fortune telling isn’t really about the future — it’s about giving people comfort, hope, and a sense of control.
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Scaling Up: More Clients, More “Readings”
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Soon, I had multiple clients per week. Some wanted full tarot card spreads (which I completely made up using a random “tarot card generator” online). Others wanted dream interpretations (“If you dream of water, it often means emotions.” Thanks, Google).
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And some just wanted to chat about life. Honestly, many of my sessions were basically cheap therapy disguised as mysticism.
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One client told me:
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“You’re better than my therapist. You understand me.”
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Little did they know, I was literally eating chips while typing fortune cookie lines.
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The Money
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So, how much did I make?
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- First week: $50 (just testing the waters).
- First month: $300.
- After three months: Nearly $1,000.
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Not life-changing money, but considering I was just pretending to be a fortune teller online, it was mind-blowing.
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The Ethical Dilemma
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But then came the hard question: Was I scamming people?
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On one hand, I wasn’t making wild promises. I never said, “You will marry a billionaire next year.” My “readings” were positive, encouraging, and sometimes even helpful.
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On the other hand, people believed me. Some made serious decisions based on my words. That part scared me.
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So I drew boundaries:
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- I refused to talk about health or medical predictions.
- I avoided financial guarantees.
- I focused only on “general life guidance” and always included disclaimers like: “This is for entertainment purposes only.”
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That way, I could sleep at night.
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The Funniest Moments
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Of course, not everything went smoothly. Some experiences were downright hilarious:
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- The Lottery Guy: One client begged me to give him the winning lottery numbers. I sent him random numbers. A week later, he messaged: “You were so close! One digit off!” (Total coincidence.)
- The Cat Lady: A woman asked me to read her cat’s aura. I had no idea what that meant, so I said, “Your cat has a protective energy and sees things beyond the human eye.” She cried tears of joy.
- The Skeptic: One guy tried to “test” me by giving me fake details. I knew what he was doing, so I replied with extremely vague statements. He ended up tipping me $20, saying, “I still don’t believe, but you’re entertaining.”
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What I Learned
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Pretending to be a fortune teller taught me more than I expected.
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- People crave guidance. Most clients just wanted someone to listen.
- Words are powerful. Even generic advice can change how people feel.
- Perception is reality. If people believe you’re wise, they’ll treat you like you are.
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And the strangest part? Over time, I actually got better at it. I started noticing patterns in people’s concerns, learned to read between the lines, and gave advice that felt surprisingly accurate — not because of magic, but because of psychology.
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Would I Recommend It?
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Here’s the truth: yes, you can make money pretending to be a fortune teller. But it comes with responsibility. If you go too far, you could exploit people’s emotions. If you’re honest about it being “for fun,” it can be lighthearted and even uplifting.
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It’s not a career I plan to stick with, but as an experiment, it was fascinating — and profitable.
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âś… Sources
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- Forer, B. R. (1949). The fallacy of personal validation: A classroom demonstration of gullibility. Journal of Abnormal Psychology.
- Psychology Today – The Barnum Effect: Why We Fall for Vague Personality Descriptions.
- American Psychological Association (APA) – Articles on belief, perception, and cognitive bias.
- Personal notes and experiences from my own experiment as “Mystic Elara.”
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Written by the author, Fatima Al-Hajri 👩🏻‍💻
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