2026-02-07
Don't get a donut today.
All Marty has to do is make a single sale by the end of the day. If he doesn't, he'll be buying himself a one-way ticket to the Unemployment Office. He has been walking this neighborhood for almost two weeks now. He got this job doing door-to-door sales with Shining Circle Solar about a month and a half ago.
During training, Marty met with some of the more experienced salesmen. Some of them were twenty-year-old kids that skipped college to join the apparent gold rush. These kids were making six-figure salaries, all commission.
"I just got a sale the other day, eight-thousand dollar commission. Seriously," said Devin, a twenty-one year old who has been with the company for a year and a half. "When the money hits your bank account, it's one of the craziest feelings. I love it. If I keep pushing I'll hit 30k just for this month."
Marty and his cohort learned the technical aspects of making a sale. They received electronic tablets and a comprehensive tour of all the software the company used: lead tracking, layout designs, collecting payment information. Most people wouldn't even answer the door. Those who did were instantly hostile. "You're the third person that's knocked on my door this week. I'm not interested," people would say during his pitch.
"You just gotta air it out man," Devin told Marty during a pitch rehearsal.
"What?" Marty asked.
"Yeah check it," Devin said as he approached the whiteboard. He opened a dry-erase marker and started writing. "Agree. Ignore. Resume."
Marty looked visibly confused. "Isn't that rude? Wouldn't that make the prospect upset?"
"Nah, you gotta be assertive." Devin said. "If you don't seem like you got a purpose and know what you're talking about, they'll slam that door right in your face. You gotta get past their programming."
Two weeks ago, Marty had a one-on-one meeting with Ashton, the VP of sales. Ashton called him into his office. He went around his desk and gestured towards the seat across from him. "Have a seat," he said. The chair was made mostly out of plastic. It looked like a surplus piece from an outdated catalog. Ashton's seat was plush, made out of pleather. Marty pulled out the plastic chair and took a seat.
"So here's the thing," Ashton began. "It's been great having you around, really. Honestly, you're a really nice guy. You just haven't made any sales yet." He leaned forward a bit. "I want to help you, Marty. That's why I'm making sure that you get the best neighborhood. You know that new one that popped up, Windsor Park?" He asked.
"I think so," Marty said.
"Yeah, new neighborhoods are prime territory. Hell, you might even get two or three sales if you work it right," Ashton said.
Marty has been walking his route all afternoon. He keeps track of each house in the neighborhood on his tablet. Each house gets a dot. When someone slams their door in his face, their house gets a red dot. If he needs to circle back at a better time, their house gets a yellow dot. When he gets lucky, he gets a prospect to schedule a separate appointment where he closes the sale. Their house gets a green dot.
The neighborhood map pops up on his tablet. It's a sea of red dots with a few yellow dots scattered around. On the far west end of the map, there's a green dot. Marty met this prospect earlier in the week—an elderly woman who eagerly accepted an appointment for this evening. He just received the design proposal for her home. If he gets this sale, he's looking at a six-thousand dollar commission. The appointment is in about ten minutes, so he heads to the house.
During his walk, the sidewalk ends. The street turns from concrete to asphalt with cars parked on either side. In the neighborhood's newer sections, many houses look the same. In this section, the houses are all unique and older. He approaches the prospect's house. Its architecture is a 1970s contemporary style with distinct slanted roofs. The house is smaller than other ones around it.
He arrives at the house and goes up to the door and knocks. It unlocks and opens. Inside is an elderly man. He's wearing a white undershirt tucked into a pair of khaki corduroy pants strapped with a brown belt and tattered work shoes. His build is short and stocky. There are bags under his eyes. Balding gray hair rests on his head and white stubble sits on his face.
His eyes squint at Marty.
"Hello sir, sorry to bother you," Marty begins. "I'm with Shining Circle Solar. I scheduled an appointment with Judy to look at some designs."
"What?" The man says. He turns around. "Judy, c'mere," he hollers.
Marty and the man stand in awkward silence. Judy approaches the door behind the man.
"Marty, good to see you," she says. "Come on in."
Marty begins to walk inside, but the man stands in front of the door and blocks him.
"Now just what the hell is this?" He asks, turning his head towards Judy. "You ain't tell me bout this."
"I just wanted to see what them solar panels cost, Al," Judy says. "You been seeing 'em pop up all round, too. I was curious bout 'em is all."
Al looks back towards Marty. He sighs and rolls his eyes slightly. "Alright then," he says. He stands back and lets Marty inside.
He walks inside the house. It smells of cigarillos and honey. There are pictures all over. Most of them are of a younger couple. They look happy. Papers are scattered all over the dining room table. Small cracks scatter throughout the walls.
Judy walks Marty to the living room. There is a large leather sofa tucked against the middle back wall. To the right of it is a brown recliner chair with a gray seat cushion and some tears on its arms. To the left of the sofa is a smaller recliner chair that looks newer. Judy gestures for Marty to sit in the newer chair. She takes a seat on the large sofa. Al slowly moves over to his recliner and takes even longer to sit down. He struggles, but no one helps him.
Marty shuffles around in the recliner a bit and leans forward. He takes out his tablet and taps through to the presentation. This was only the third time he'd opened one. The title slide reads "JUDITH AND ALBERT'S SOLAR PANEL SYSTEM WITH SHINING CIRCLE SOLAR" in bold letters along with a stock photo of a roof with solar panels over a white background. He flips the tablet around.
"Can you guys see the scree—"
"Yeah, just fine," Al says.
"Do you need me to get you your glasses?" Judy says, turning to Al.
"Nah, don't need 'em. Can see just fine," Al says, eyes squinting.
Marty leans forward further towards Al. "Right, so thank you both for being here," Marty says. He swipes over to the next slide. "We ran those numbers on your house and got that credit check, and things are looking really—"
"You made them run a damn credit check?" Al says. "Last thing we need is a ding on our credit."
"We didn't get no ding on our credit," Judy says. "They told me these don't ding your credit."
"The financing companies that work with us don't report anything to the major credit reporting companies, so you're in the clear," Marty says. Al leans back and crosses his arms. Marty continues with the presentation and swipes to the next slide.
"Our design team made a layout of what would best fit your home," Marty continues. On the slide is a design drawing laid over an aerial photo of the house. "Your roof faces south, which is the best direction for installing solar panels."
"Why's that?" Judy asks.
"Sun sets east to west, Jude," Al interjects. "Gets more coverage that way."
Marty points at Al. "Yes. Yes, that's right," he says. "And because of that, your electric bill is completely offset if you end up installing the system."
"That's interesting," Judy says. "So we ain't gotta pay an electric bill no more?"
"Correct," Marty says. "Your electric company started a net metering program earlier this year. If you install the panels, they credit you by dialing your meter back. Your home would generate electricity that goes back to the grid. And so, uh, you get compensated for it."
"Yeah, until they raise the prices like they been doin' every year," Al says. "Our electric bill has doubled over the last ten years. You want us to buy today so that you're out of the picture when shit hits the fan tomorrow, kid."
Marty stammers. "Oh, uh, well—"
"We'll be out of the house before that happens," Judy says.
Marty's eyes widen. Al leans forward. "What are you saying?" He says. "We ain't goin' no where."
"You know we keep gettin' them offers from them Windsor Park people," Judy says. "They want this whole little stretch here. Debbie and Gene just closed on their house. They got fifty thousand above asking, Al."
"And where do you reckon we'll go? Huh?" Al says, his voice raising.
Judy shifts in her seat and her eyes dart back and forth. "Well. Well, maybe we can get that RV and travel the country like we talked about," she says.
Al slams the side of the recliner. "Bullshit. You know I can't get around too well no more with this damn sciatica. That ain't happenin' and you know it."
"Something's gotta," she says, her voice getting softer. "We gotta get out while we still can. I just thought that, well, if we get them solar panels on the roof it'd sweeten the deal when we start negotiating with 'em."
Marty speaks up. The tablet is sitting in his lap. "Yes. Right, that's what would happen," he says. "We've seen a home's value increase by up to eight and a half percent."
"See?" Judy says. "If we sell by the end of next year we ain't gotta worry bout no new bill or nothing like that."
Al rolls his eyes. "Jude, think with your damn head here," he says. "If we get more money selling the house with them panels. And that's if. All that's gonna do is pay them panels off and get us out of a damn loan we didn't need in the first place."
"You really think we wouldn't make money? Really?" Jude chides. "What I just say bout Debbie and Gene?"
"Debbie and Gene ain't got nothing to do with us," Al says.
"So what then?" Judy says. "What are we gonna do? Just sit here? We're getting out of this house, Al. They'll let us sell it now, but if we keep being stubborn then they won't be so kind later on."
Marty's head lowers. He crosses his arms, pinning the tablet against his stomach. The tablet vibrates. He peeks at the screen. Five percent battery life.
"And just what are they gonna do?" Al chides back. "We got this house fair and square and as long as I'm payin' that damn mortgage, we ain't leaving."
Judy's face becomes flushed. "These people don't play fair."
Marty looks over to Al. "I was at your neighbor's door the other day. Ernesto, all the way towards the end of the neighborhood that way." He points his thumb back against the wall behind him.
"What about it?"
"He told me that he received a letter from the city. They rezoned his house, said that his lot got declared a historical landmark. He has to vacate by the end of the month or the cops will show up, arrest him for trespassing."
Al's head lowers. His eyes widen. His face flattens.
"You remember when Ernesto told us about that fancy guy in a suit, said he was with Windsor Park?" Judy says, putting her hand on Al's knee. "Told him to go straight to hell after making an offer on his house, right at the door."
The room turns silent.
"Kid, just get the hell out of here," Al says. He cusps his face with his hands. "Oh God damn it! What are we gonna do?"
Judy stands up. Marty follows. "I'm so sorry about this. We'll call you back another day, see if we can reschedule."
Marty stays silent as she escorts him to the front door. She opens it for him. He walks outside, waving his hand behind him. He doesn't turn back. The door shuts. Loud muffled crying hums through it. He looks at the screen of his tablet and presses the power button.
It's dead.
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