She's the gm/vp of nike. She's not checking credit card bills. She dgaf about that lil shit.
Bruh, you see them pics.
He wasn't buying an extra 2 or 3 pair.
He was putting in orders like he was a Foot Locker..lol
She's the gm/vp of nike. She's not checking credit card bills. She dgaf about that lil shit.
Yeah he was bugging lol ?
Hebert’s leaving Nike comes days after the publication of a Bloomberg piece focused on her son, a 19-year-old sneaker reseller named Joe. The piece mentions a credit card Joe used for his reselling business, West Coast Streetwear, that was registered in Ann’s name. The reseller insisted to the story’s author that his personal connection to a Nike exec not be written about in the piece and cut off communication after it was brought up.
The Bloomberg story sparked outrage online, where commenters questioned whether the younger Hebert was gaining unfair access to limited-edition sneakers with the help of his mother. Some brought up the six pairs of rare Nike Mags, which sell for over $12,000 each, that he said he’d randomly discovered in a storage unit in January 2020, speculating they were obtained through more nefarious means. One source claims that Joe would buy pairs in large quantities from Nike outlets using his mother’s discount and resell them later.
Ann Hebert’s purview at Nike included its SNKRS app, a destination for coveted product where shoes regularly sell out immediately, only to be resold on secondary markets. The brand spends a good amount of energy and money trying to protect the platform from bots that can help resellers buy out stock faster than any human. Bloomberg’s piece on Joe Hebert’s business describes him using bots to compromise online launches, mentioning that he rang up $132,000 in one morning for a launch of Kanye West sneakers on the artist’s Yeezy Supply website.
That same card, a corporate American Express, was registered in his mother’s name.
Last July 30, Joe Hebert woke up early and drove to a small warehouse he’d leased in Eugene, Ore., the track-obsessed college town where Nike Inc. was born. He was expecting an important delivery: 600 pairs of Yeezy Boost 350 Zyon sneakers. Released by Adidas 12 days earlier, they’d sold out within hours
It likely got a bump, too, he notes, from ESPN and Netflix’s airing, starting in mid-April, of The Last Dance, a 10-part chronicle of Michael Jordan’s final season with the Chicago Bulls, which drew many older buyers into the market for the first time.
That was also a breakout time for West Coast Streetwear. “I remember the night the stimulus checks hit. My sales tripled,” Hebert said. “In May we did $600,000.”
Before the pandemic-era sneaker surge, Hebert was selling enough bricks to clear $200,000 in revenue most months.
Eventually, Hebert realized that his growing Instagram following included hundreds of entrepreneurial teens hoping to emulate his success, which led him to a new revenue stream. For $250 per month, they could subscribe to a Discord group, West Bricks, where he shared information on upcoming online releases, such as what sneakers would be discounted, when and where the sale would begin, and how many the retailer would have. As of late 2020, Hebert counted about 450 subscribers. One of the first to sign up was a 17-year-old Californian, who told me West Bricks had made him more than six figures.
Hebert’s competitors have access to the same bot software and StockX-borne real-time market research as he does. What they don’t have, according to some of his subscribers, is consistent, sound analysis of what shoes to buy, how to get them, and, crucially, how long resellers might expect demand to persist. Hebert declined to talk about his sources of information,
When the Covid boom got under way last year, Hebert found himself confronting the unexpected problem of having more customers than ever but no way of getting his hands on more kicks. The stock he needed was out there, he knew, languishing in backrooms at the retail outlets fearful American shoppers were avoiding. So he grabbed a pal, bought a 17-foot Ford E-350 box truck at auction, and embarked on a 25-day, 10,000-mile brick hunt. By the time they escaped the U.S. humidity belt, they barely had enough room in the truck for shoes, let alone sleeping pads. Back home in Portland, they lifted the steel door and a wall of orange Nike boxes spilled onto the pavement. Hebert had spent more than $200,000 on about 2,000 pairs of shoes, which he hoped would return a profit of around $50,000.
He was also taking steps to go beyond selling shoes—which I’d learned, quite by accident, ran in his blood. At one point in late June, after his trip, he’d phoned me, and the number was identified as belonging to Ann Hebert. I looked the name up and discovered there was an Ann Hebert who’d worked at Nike for 25 years and had recently been made its vice president and general manager for North America.
When I asked Hebert about the connection later that year, he acknowledged that Ann was his mother and said that, while she’d inspired him as a businessperson, she was so high up at Nike as to be removed from what he does, and that he’d never received inside information such as discount codes from her. He insisted, though, that she not be mentioned in the article and cut off contact not long after our conversation.
In the fall, he’d struck out for even less familiar terrain. When Sony launched its PlayStation 5 console in November, Hebert sensed a looming shortage of stock. “We botted Walmart and Target pretty hard,” he told me. “I ended up with 24 of them and made between $300 and $500 on each one.”
There’d been growing pains outside the family business, though. His bots had initially gobbled up hundreds of PS5 systems, but because he was working in unfamiliar territory he’d made mistakes that resulted in most of his orders getting canceled, leaving him with just the two dozen consoles. “Wish I had prepared more,” he said.