Getting rich quick is a magical notion. Magical because it is bewitching and beyond life's normal economic parameters. Magical, also, because rapidly obtaining exceptional wealth is, on the whole, an imaginary state for the average person.

People looking to supplement their income, retire early or have enough to live on when they stop work have myriad opportunities to participate in wealth-boosting systems. Whether a major bank's financial planning ideas, a Nigerian letter, a cleverly disguised Ponzi scheme or a "risk free" system to trade shares, there are plenty around.

Some offer moderate, steady, "guaranteed" gains over a broad period. Others spruik fast-track rides to economic freedom. Almost all offer free "education" seminars.

But what are these education seminars like? Most claim people with the most basic knowledge of finance will understand the product or scheme after attending. As a financial simpleton, my concession to building wealth has been meagre – buying a home, adding to super, investing in shares and devising a complicated weekly savings system involving individually labelled plastic bags filled with small amounts of cash.

The latter collapsed after two years due to impracticality, chubby fingers and unforeseen plastic bag erosion. Significantly, no money was lost (it simply lay at the bottom of a handbag).

So can a financial simpleton fathom the opportunities available? I attended some seminars to find out.

First, though, was a talk given by Steve Keen, the associate professor of economics and finance at the University of Western Sydney, who has been attributed with predicting the 2008 financial crisis.

After this came three seminars, all free and lasting one to two hours. The first was a company offering trading software systems, with coaching and technical support. The second was a retirement presentation held by a major bank and the third was a seminar hosted by an international financial services consulting firm outlining tips and strategies to build wealth and ensure a retirement, early or not, that is not financially precarious.

The Academic's Talk

On a cold, wet evening, Keen is about to speak as part of the Australian Museum's regular monthly talks. As the author of Debunking Economics, which, as he says, "details the many critiques which have been made of economic theory by economists, in a fashion which is accessible to the intelligent non-economist", he sounds perfect for an economic dullard.

His talk is titled, encouragingly, The Next Great Depression? and it is prefaced in publicity releases with questions such as: "Struggling to meet mortgage repayments? Wanting to buy or sell property? Looking for tips to ease the financial strain?"

The museum's website goes further: "How could the economy suddenly go so bad? How could economists have got it so wrong? Join Steve, if you've always wanted to know about debt ratios and the best time to sell your house."

The picture painted is terrifying. Total financial desolation for Australia is clearly just around the corner.

The crowd, mostly over 50 and dressed in tweed jackets and sensible jumpers, files in. A woman in the row behind asks her companion what the talk is about. "Something financial," she says. "It was abnormal psychology last week."

Keen introduces his talk as "being about a topic we all wish wasn't here".

Over the next 90 minutes, to my amateur understanding, Keen portends a dire economic forecast. He expresses surprise that the global financial crisis is, "according to most Australian punters", already over.

"[That's] something I find rather intriguing," he says. "It's like saying you can make a recovery from a disease before you actually suffer from it."

He talks about the Ponzi economy, super bubbles, debt ratios, the neo-classical school of economic theory, Hyman Minsky's financial instability hypothesis, zombie banks and a debt jubilee. It is bewildering and engrossing.

On a large screen he shows complex statistics and animated diagrams indicating a parlous state of affairs if certain actions are not made. After 90 minutes, it's clear Keen feels debt is the root of our problem. On those who consider the global financial crisis "a minor hiccup", Keen is even clearer. "I believe they're deluded."

After fielding questions from people concerned about banks collapsing and homes falling in value, Keen is swamped at the lectern by a large crowd.

"He was good," says the woman behind. "I think it's ancient Egyptian religion next month."

Trading software system seminar

In a city boardroom, I join 12 others to learn about trading the stockmarket via a software system. After booking in, an email told me the seminar would show how to create a second income, along with proof the system worked. But first, an hour of bewilderment.

The group features young couples, middle-aged men and young women in business suits. Everyone seems nervous.

A young man with pointy black shoes and a shiny tie introduces himself. Switching between a PowerPoint presentation and a whiteboard at opposite ends of the room, he says he will talk about short-selling, what happened in 2008 and the benefits of trading from the spare room.

He says he is not selling black boxes and this is not a get-rich-quick scheme. "If any of you thought you could come in, do a weekend workshop and drive out in a Ferrari, you're in the wrong place," he says. The group laughs quietly. We're directed to information packs featuring a dummy trading plan, notepaper, a free pen and examples and photographs of investors who have made big profits using the program.

We're given a quick rundown of contracts for difference (CFDs), their high risks and are told the US has banned their sale to retail investors. A speedy explanation of shorting the market follows with rapid-fire questions to the audience. As the financial lingo and high-speed mathematical equations run thick and fast – backtesting, pyramid trades, volatility gates – only one attendee has any real answers. Little makes sense except the price: membership costs almost $6000 for 12 months.

"We're not greedy," our speaker says. "We're not after your money."

He says those who have joined "make a consistent income" because they take the system seriously, have a plan and let the plan tell them what to do. He has given plenty of warnings about the risks, but, as we shuffle out, the air rings with the sound of salesmanship.

Retirement seminar by a bank

Sushi, fritattas, cheese, wine, orange juice and cakes. Five of us are hoeing into this unexpected spread in a suburban bank branch. We've been warmly greeted by three staff members, including the financial planner, a cheery woman in a trouser suit who knows almost everyone by name.

Information packs, including a free pen are given out and the presentation begins. The mood is conservative but the focus is the same as the trading system spruiker: generating income for retirement.

An overview of different strategies is given. The options are superannuation and investment. We're told about average life expectancies, average income expected in retirement and possible tax benefits of salary sacrifice, allocated pensions and splitting super with a spouse. Diagrams and dot points refer to pre-retirement pensions, longevity risk and the difference between concessional and non-concessional contributions.

Things are going swimmingly until one attendee, frittata slice in hand, can no longer hold his silence.

"I'm sorry," he says. "I've heard this all before. You're talking to someone who has just lost their superannuation to a bunch of bastards."

He names a major financial services company that "guaranteed" a level of return on his investments. Now they refuse to release what's left.

Tension fills the room. It's a stark reminder that, although this is a basic seminar run by a major bank, we're still being sold something. Another attendee breaks the silence. He is enjoying reasonable returns from a fixed-term savings account. "Why should I risk that?" To her credit, the financial planner agrees – investments can be risky – and promises to look into it with him. Some agree to follow-up calls but the party vibe has gone.

Financial services firm seminar

Of all the seminars, this one made this financial simpleton's heart leap. Starting with simple ideas about cash-flow management and day-to-day financial planning, the female adviser says, we can create an investment-ready surplus, "even if it's only $50 a month". The temptation to discuss my plastic bag system is overwhelming.

Four women are attending, in another city tower boardroom. We're given the ubiquitous information pack. This time it includes a four-page budgeting guide – the first to offer such a practical tool.

The adviser lauds women in control. "Get a spreadsheet and work out your ... income and fixed expenses tomorrow," she says. "Allocate money to a fixed expense account and know what you're doing with your money."

A wave of sisterly alliance strikes. One attendee, initially quiet, asks about share trading versus investment property and the benefits of keeping her flat in her own name after marriage. Discussions range from what All Ordinaries means to income protection, life insurance, salary sacrifice and the difference between bear and bull markets.

"Your greatest risk is not being part of the markets," the adviser says. It's convincing but suddenly we're a long way off from saving $50 a month.

Should a personal loan be paid off before investing? "Paying off debt is always good but it also has a dead feeling to it," she says. "There is something so positive about seeing even small investment balances go up."

The four of us are almost punching the air with empowerment. The adviser explains we can book a free consultation to discuss joining up, with an annual fee of about $2000. Two attendees agree to a follow-up call. We share a lift down, gripping our budget sheets and mogul dreams close before the euphoria fades.