Chapter Ten - Charlotte

CHAPTER TEN

Charlotte

WE LEFT MURFREESBORO late and we were heading to Charlotte. It was over six hours, and I was already exhausted before we even got in the car. I hadn’t slept well. I was dying, truthfully. But whatever. I had a job to get to.

I remember stopping for fast food twice. Not proud of it, but I needed something to keep me awake. Me and Caleb finally got there sometime after midnight. We thought we were pulling up to an Airbnb. That’s what Zack had told us. We’d assumed there would be four of us in a house or something halfway decent.

Nope.

It was a one-bedroom extended stay motel.

Not a hotel.

Not an Airbnb.

A motel.

The kind with entire families living in it long-term. Kids running around screaming. People fighting. Every single sound coming straight through the paper-thin walls.

Inside, we had two twin beds placed nicely next to each other. There was some nasty brown shit caked to the bottom of the bathtub that wouldn’t come off. The room was small. Cramped. Claustrophobic. But hey, better than nothing, right?

We passed out immediately. Next morning, I woke up to my phone buzzing. It was Connor. I half answered, then fell back asleep. He called again. Still didn’t wake me up fully. Caleb? That man never moved.

At around 11 a.m., we woke up to someone knocking on the door. Zack and Chris. Apparently, the rest of the team had already gone out knocking.

To be clear, these guys had woken up, taken some kind of test, and were already out in the field knocking doors while we were still drooling on our pillows. No mercy. Not even on day one.

Connor told us we could take the day to practice the pitch. So we got settled. We unpacked the car, which was absolutely stuffed with everything we’d need to survive for the next six months. I drove a Malibu, and it was carrying half my apartment and the entirety of Caleb’s life. Miracle it all fit.

We hit Walmart that afternoon. I was already broke, so I bought chocolate, cheese, and two kinds of milk. Just dense food that would give me whatever energy I could get for the cheapest cost. Then we spent the rest of the day trying to breathe in that miserable room.

That night, we got a text from Connor.

“Come downstairs.”

We headed to Jacob’s room. Jacob and Connor were the two main managers running our crew. I could use other words for them, but let’s stick with managers for now.

They had us take a look at a Google Doc:
The Knoxville Sales Rep Commitment.

We were told it was a mandatory contract and to sign it on the spot. Not later. Not after reading it. Right there.

Which is funny, considering we were 1099 contractors.

No benefits.

No hourly.

No base pay.

No rights.

Just commission.

And yet here we were, being told to sign a contract with strict behavioral requirements and a daily quota. Here's what it said:

1. I will show up and be on time to all sales and training meetings.
2. I will not go back to the apartment after morning meetings.
3. I will knock 100 doors or get 2 sales every day.
4. I will respond to criticism with an open mind.
5. I will elevate the tribe and help those around me.
6. I will not share complaints with team members, only leaders.
7. I will participate in team activities.
8. I will take ownership of my performance.
9. I will build relationships.
10. I will help keep the apartment clean.
11. I will not possess drugs or alcohol, nor will I have any guests stay overnight.
12. I will not drink on work nights or show up hungover.
13. I will work the full schedule everyday no matter what. I will only take the number of sick days in my agreement. I will not leave my assigned neighborhood during knocking hours without permission.

Now, let’s go ahead and break down what an actual independent contractor is supposed to be. Because this wasn’t it.

Independent contractors don’t get told where to go, when to go, how long to work, or how many doors to knock. They don’t have to follow quotas. They don’t get locked into schedules. They aren’t threatened with punishment for taking a break. And they sure as hell don’t get contracts that read like a military obedience oath.

But there it was.

We all signed it.

Had to.

It wasn’t optional.

And that was April 1st.

April Fool’s Day.

Fitting.

We went to bed that night in the loudest, shittiest motel I’ve ever stayed in. And in the morning, we’d start knocking doors in Charlotte. No pay. No security. Just the script, the quota, and the street.

Welcome to sales.