Chapter Eleven - Knock Knock, You're F**ked

CHAPTER ELEVEN

Knock Knock, You're F**ked

I WOKE UP that morning to one of the most dreadful texts I’ve ever received. Honestly, I’d rather get dumped over text than see what I saw that day. Up until this point, I had been imagining a degree of autonomy. I thought I’d be driving myself to the neighborhood, maybe keep a few waters in the backseat, some Gatorades, a couple snacks, and maybe run back to my car if I needed something. You know, basic human freedom.

Then came the text about car buddies.

My first thought was, Don’t tell me I’ve gotta drive somebody. But it was worse. The update came in: New car partners. It said that Aaron and I would be riding with James. Riding. Not driving.

So not only were we forced to share cars, we weren’t even driving our own. We were being chauffeured by managers. We were independent contractors, technically. But now we were waking up early, being told where to go, when to go, and who to ride with. So much for “independent.” We had to leave shortly after eight so we could get to the morning meeting by 8:30, and from there, we were gone for the entire day.

That was the rule. Once you leave, you’re out all day. That’s the contract. Or rather, the second contract. The one they had us sign through a fucking Google Doc.

I wasn’t thrilled. And to make matters worse, I didn’t even have a clean uniform. We were given one shirt. One. My only Alta shirt had a stain on it from the cruise. So I threw on a black shirt and some shorts and just went with it. I wasn’t trying to get written up for “looking like a slob,” but hey, what else do you do when the company gives you one shirt?

The meeting that morning wasn’t much. Just some basic stuff. It lasted an hour or so. Nothing crazy. They’d get better later on, if “better” is the right word. After the meeting, I got in the car with James and Aaron. They were alright. Not terrible people. We got along well enough.

They dropped me off in my assigned neighborhood. Literally just pulled up, let me out on the side of the road, and that was it. No instructions, no guide, no nothing. Just good luck.

I asked if I could stretch before I started. I mean, I was about to be walking for ten-plus hours. Seemed reasonable. But I was reminded, Don’t curbsit. That’s the number one Alta sin. Curbsitting is the enemy of sales. If you’re curbsitting, it means you’re not knocking. And if you’re not knocking, you are sinning.

You want to make six figures? Then you knock. You knock until your feet bleed. You knock until your soul evaporates. You knock until your humanity dies screaming. That’s the mindset.

Anyway, a few minutes into stretching, I get a text from James: Hey, you’re actually gonna shadow me today. Huge relief. I honestly wasn’t ready to go knocking solo yet. I’d have done it if I had to, but mentally, I wasn’t there. So I waited, he picked me up, and we drove off to a different neighborhood.

At the entrance of this new neighborhood was a huge “No Soliciting” sign. You want to know where we parked? Right next to it.

And then we started knocking.

We barely talked to anybody. And the ones we did talk to? No one wanted pest control. Not a single soul. I need to make that very clear. These people already had a company. They didn’t want to switch. They weren’t curious. They didn’t seem to care. You’d have better luck selling umbrellas in the desert.

We talked to one guy, Jamal, who was literally throwing a party for veterans. He was a veteran himself. James had him stuck outside for 20 minutes, just badgering him, even though Jamal kept saying, “Hey man, I gotta get back inside.” Common sense says you let the man go. But I guess when you’ve been knocking long enough, common sense stops registering.

We talked to a hacker at one point. A white hat. He didn’t even want to open the door, but we wore him down with a 30-minute conversation. The only reason we even got close to selling him was because I jumped in and kept the energy going. I doubt the sale even went through.

Most people weren’t rude, but they weren’t nice either. And they definitely weren’t interested. James wasn’t closing. I wasn’t learning much. And the entire thing felt pointless.

We went to Jimmy John’s for lunch. I couldn’t even eat. I didn’t have money to spare. And you don’t get to pick where to eat. The manager picks. You just go where they say. And while they say lunch is an hour and a half, it’s really more like 45 minutes. You get picked up late, dropped off early. And the whole time you’re still under watch.

I stepped outside during lunch and called a lawyer. I was hoping for a jailbreak. I called HKM, a firm out in Charlotte. The intake guy was no help. I gave him all the info I could, but it didn’t matter. He didn’t care. I don’t think anyone would have. There’s no money in helping broke kids working commission-only door-to-door jobs.

After lunch, James dropped me off in another neighborhood. This one was even worse. I bombed the first door. Hard. I was still trying, though. I had my sales framework memorized. I was locked in. But the whole neighborhood was a ghost town. Half the houses had “No Soliciting” signs. The ones who didn’t still didn’t want anything to do with me. I knocked for hours. Nothing.

It started raining, of course.

I called more lawyers. None of them could help. And again, why would they? There’s no money in helping someone who isn’t getting paid. The only hope I had left was the $250 stipend they’d mentioned during off-season training. That was gonna hit Monday. I just had to survive until then. I had less than twenty bucks to my name, and it was only Wednesday.

James came and picked me up around 9:15 p.m. We didn’t get home until 9:30. I’d been out since a little after 8 a.m. Thirteen hours. And then, naturally, a mandatory gratitude meeting. We all sat around and talked about what we were grateful for. I wanted to scream.

I went back to my apartment and ate half a block of cheese and drank some chocolate milk. That was dinner. That was morale. That was the dream.

That was my first day on the doors.

The day I’d been waiting for.

The day I’d been hyped for.

The day that made it very, very clear:

I had been tricked.