‘Constant Rejection’, Big Rewards: The Life of a Door-to-Door Salesman | Company
TAMPA, Fla. — The Tesla Model 3 pulled to a stop on a quiet residential street near the airport, and Liam Kunkel pulled out in a misty November rain.
He wore white Alexander McQueen sneakers, slipped a Sharpie into the band of his Mets cap and quickly pulled out a purple vape pen. His eyes scanned the modest homes for telltale details as he walked.
“The way this car is parked indicates that they are not the primary decision maker.”
“Do you see their lawn? He’s probably an analytical buyer.
“That roof looks rough.”
He consulted his Sun Seeker app to determine how the sun would hit a house, a silver cross hanging from his Spartan Solar shirt.
“I’ve never been too religious,” he said, “but I believe everyone has a path.”
In a landscaped house with large purple cordylines, Liam knocked and a white terrier began to lose his head at the window. Liam backed up six feet and bent his body, to look less threatening.
“Can I help you?” said the woman who answered, in a tone that was anything but helpful. She crossed her arms.
“Hi, I’m Liam, we’re just here to talk to people about solar power, I’m sure you’ve noticed a lot of solar panels going up…”
“Is there anything you can just leave me?”
“Potentially it depends,” he said. “Basically, what do you pay monthly for electricity? Hundreds?
“Potentially? Potentially?” said the woman. “You come here and want information from me, but you can’t give me anything to show the owner?”
Of course, his pitch was going badly. Who in 2022 wants a stranger knocking on their front door? And who, in the age of Amazon, would try to make a living this way?
Far from being a lost art, door-to-door shopping persists, despite ubiquitous retail options, the convenience of the internet, and the fact that it’s a tough way to earn a living. Its ranks may be thinner than the mid-century heyday of the Fuller Brush man and encyclopedia peddlers, but thick-skinned campaigners like Liam are still around, talking deals, collecting rewards.
The federal government estimates that about 104,000 Americans work as door-to-door or street vendors.
The Tampa-St. The Petersburg-Clearwater metro area now has the highest concentration of door-to-door sales reps in the country — a major jump after failing to make the top 10 in 2020.
Pest control, home security, and Florida’s burgeoning solar industry all depend on door knocking.
Seventeen months ago, Liam dropped out of college to move from New York to Florida to become a door-to-door salesman. He knew a guy here who sold rooftop solar systems. His Instagram posts have made great money.
Nobody thought it was a good idea. Liam’s parents thought it was terrible.
But Liam, 22, remembers being advised to give up on his dreams before. A coach once told him that he would absolutely never play college basketball. After that, he practiced free throws late at night and later played for Long Island University.
He got off his flight to Orlando last year with $80 in his account and moved into an apartment with seven other door-to-door reps.
The pressure was incredible.
“I lost a ton of weight,” he said, “and not in a good way.”
He made a sale – “served a family” as they call it in the biz – on days one, two, four and five. They didn’t all come so easily, but he studied videos of the world’s best door-to-door reps in action and learned to be “a chameleon,” matching the energy of each potential customer.
He knocked on thousands of doors. People were saluting him with their finger, with an F-bomb, with their naked bodies. A grumpy man was holding a shotgun. Liam complimented the gun, sold him a system and then drank one of the guy’s Busch Lights with him in celebration.
He was asking people to make a major purchase, he knew that, but he learned to believe in what he saw as helping families break free from utility companies – not by convincing them, but by “having chat”.
The money was fantastic. Reps make around $1,000 to $4,000 on a deal. He bought the Tesla, got matching chains for himself and his brothers, and great Knicks seats for his parents. It was the kind of thing they didn’t have when Liam was growing up, even after the family moved from a small apartment in Queens to a house on Long Island.
“We moved there and all of a sudden my new friends had money,” he said. “People around us had money, but we still didn’t have any. I was like, what’s a country club? It stayed with him. Today, he is looking to invest in real estate. It is investing in its own app to help door-to-door reps and another for restaurant menus.
At Spartan Solar, he transitioned from an appointments manager to closer to his office’s senior rep to lead the brand new Tampa office. Most of the time, he still takes to the streets to sell.
On a typical day, Liam wakes up in his Westshore apartment.
He used to feel resentment and a bit of anxiety. He read in ‘The Happiness Advantage’ that he would never be happy in life until he learned to be happy in the moment and that he wouldn’t love others until he was happy. wouldn’t like.
He takes a cold shower, works out, eats oatmeal, showers again. He drives to a nondescript business park and unlocks a nondescript office that smells strongly of new carpet.
Ten sportily dressed and impeccably groomed men arrive, one only 16, the oldest in their twenties. They play cornhole as electronic dance music blares through a Bluetooth speaker.
Liam sips sugar-free Red Bull, turns off the lights, and leads them into a Wim Hof breathing exercise of deep, rhythmic exhalations.
He stands beneath a blood-red logo splattered on the wall reading “300,” like in the epic film about desperately outnumbered warriors valiantly fighting invaders. He talks about “milking the turf”, “re-hitting”, “question-based selling” and the “10 pillars of solar”.
He tells reps to share what they’re grateful for and set a goal.
The people in this room… Three families served by Thanksgiving… Two quality conversations this week… Paying for my knee surgery… Buying my mom a better house.
The job is not for everyone. People come and go.
“It’s a constant rejection,” Liam said. “But if you push through that, you can do anything.”
People who try it may be a bit lost, a bit restless, big dreamers. Often, it seems, they’ve been through something, like a crushing breakup or the death of someone close.
Colton Johnston, 19, moved from South Dakota to Tampa two months ago after discovering solar power sales online. So far he has served five families. He met 16-year-old Marcos Fuentes-Rodriguez at the gym and brought him in. Fuentes-Rodriguez, who was in his first week, said he plans to leave high school for work. Brennan Farr, 19, said he would leave Upstate New York Community College six months ago to come work for Spartan.
“They’re all people like me,” Liam said of his team. “People who don’t come from a lot.”
They bond, especially when they “blitz,” which is when a bunch of them rent an Airbnb in another city and knock on doors relentlessly for days on end. Most of them live together, study sales techniques together, go out to dinner, and reenact their interactions on the doorstep together. Their mutual support, Liam said, goes far beyond work.
“Alright, I love you,” Liam told one of the guys as he left to hit his territory for the day.
A tally of everyone’s sales for the past eight months hung on the wall of an office. Liam was at the top, with 60.
He knows how quickly you can lose your spot. When he played varsity ball, the university consolidated its campuses, eliminating its Division II team in favor of a single Division I team. He had previously struggled with injuries. He got offers, but just like that, he never played again.
Meanwhile, the restless woman with folded arms was slowly backing towards her door, seemingly ready to bail.
Liam pointed to a Navy license plate on a car in the driveway.
“My sister is in the Navy,” the woman said.
“OK, well, thank you for your service and Happy Veterans Day,” he said. “Fun fact, I’ve had a relative in every American war since the Revolution.”
Something softened, ever so slightly.
“May I ask you, why did you choose TECO? ” he said.
“It’s the only option.”
“Okay, and since they’re in a monopoly position, they raise the rates and there’s nothing you can do about it,” Liam continued. “Air conditioning is a necessity in Florida, isn’t it?” … We just want to move you to a flat rate, so you’re not basically paying a second car payment for electricity.
It earned him a smile, a nod, and even his name, Alex. Although Alex finally gave it another breath.
“Just give me your card.”
He convinced her to take his eco-friendly ‘digital business card’, delivered by text message, opening up a new channel of communication.
Liam knocked on other doors. He had tenants, aggressive people, confused people, people pretending they weren’t home.
“It’s raining, it’s almost Friday night, I don’t know,” he said, back behind the wheel of the Tesla, looking dejected. “I can’t even strike up a conversation.”
Of course not. No one thinks they want a salesman on their doorstep. Liam knows it. Who would make a major purchase this way?
He parked in a Wawa to use the bathroom and his iPhone rang with a text. It was Alex. She wanted him to come back and sit down with her and her mother to talk about it.
Liam smiled. Who is it.
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