Chapter 1: Introduction to the Chaos

In this narrative, all identities have been altered to safeguard both the guilty and the innocent. The events depicted are recounted to the best of my recollection and understanding.

After much effort, we finally got our database operational using a subpar CRM tool because Brett was hesitant to invest in Salesforce. Christina accepted Brett's tightwad nature, although it was evident she believed that his frugality was short-sighted. Regardless, with our database brimming with potential clients and having completed our sales training, Christina concluded that George and I were ready to initiate calls.

It was a significant moment. For some inexplicable reason, we opted to begin on a Friday, which quickly proved to be an unwise choice for sales calls, as most people were too fatigued from the week to engage with someone attempting to sell them a product from an unfamiliar company that could jeopardize their job. Tension hung in the air at Phil's residence that day.

George and I were assigned different areas to operate from. He settled in the sitting room by the kitchen, while I took over Phil's daughter's former bedroom. Our objective was to make calls and arrange meetings for Christina to present our offerings in person. I vividly recall sitting down with my laptop and headphones, dialing my first number while trying to ignore the fact that Christina was listening from the other side of the door. Voicemail. I moved on to the next number. Voicemail again. It turned out that many individuals in higher education left early on Friday afternoons. Eventually, I did connect with someone. The conversation went reasonably well; I inquired about their services and whether they provided students with mock interviews. Initially, the person on the other end thought I was a student and grew irritated upon realizing I was a telemarketer. Fortunately, things improved from there. Although I didn’t secure any in-person meetings, I did manage to schedule a follow-up call.

In contrast, George successfully arranged an in-person meeting. I have to admit I felt a tinge of disappointment that I wasn't the one to set our inaugural meeting, albeit a trivial concern. However, I was pleased for George and the company, as it meant we were one step closer to achieving our dreams of success.

To celebrate, Christina insisted we go out for drinks in downtown Milford at a bar named Citrus. It was a dimly lit space with ample seating that buzzed with activity but never felt overcrowded. We settled into a booth in the back corner and began our festivities. Present were George, Christina, Jason, Phil, Phil's wife, and Brett. The atmosphere was charged with euphoric excitement as we downed beers, took shots, and toasted to our company’s future. At one point, Christina suggested we each share something nice about Brett. When it was my turn, I recounted our first meeting in elementary school, conveniently omitting the fact that Brett had often been a bully during our childhood.

After we finished complimenting the boss, Brett expressed his thoughts. He spoke passionately about the company’s potential and his gratitude for having us all involved in realizing his vision. He emphasized that we faced a unique challenge as a "true start-up," clarifying that we weren’t merely launching a new business but were trying to create an entirely new market. He raised his glass of aged scotch in a toast, and we all joined him.

Looking back, I realize that Brett was indulging in fantasies of grandeur. The concept of helping individuals prepare for interviews through mock sessions was hardly revolutionary. Nor was conducting these sessions via Skype. The pursuit of the considerable funds available to educational institutions wasn’t groundbreaking either. Yet, for reasons I still can’t grasp, Brett believed we were pioneering something extraordinary.

It was an enjoyable evening and, in hindsight, it marked the peak of our experience as a company. The camaraderie felt genuine, as if we were on the brink of seizing wealth, influence, and recognition—everything we each desired. We continued to indulge in shots and mixed drinks. At one point, Christina and I found ourselves in a private conversation. With glassy eyes, she asked why I seemed to harbor such resentment about sales. The question caught me off guard. I had been open about my disdain for being pushed into sales, feeling it squandered my talents as a writer. Moreover, Brett's incentive structure was dismal—ten dollars per arranged meeting, without any share from the resulting deal. Christina insisted I had a knack for sales and could earn a lot of money if I applied myself. Yet, I had no interest in doing so and was merely waiting to receive my equity in the company. I refrained from sharing this with her, opting to shrug and say I would consider her advice. The remainder of the night faded into a haze of intoxication.

The joy was fleeting. Brett began to grow increasingly anxious about the number of hours we were working and the money being spent. His stinginess escalated daily. He was compensating Phil a small amount for allowing us to work in his home, covering Christina's modest needs, and losing money with the design firm. He owed them a substantial amount, which seemed illogical given the mediocre quality of our website—adequate but certainly not worth tens of thousands of dollars. Consequently, Brett struck a deal with the firm’s owner, possibly trading some equity for a reduction in debt. He was vague about the details, but George occasionally shared bits of information while we worked at Phil's house. Due to this situation, Brett informed us that we would need to take a pay cut, framing it as our responsibility to secure the equity in the company he promised we would eventually receive, which could be worth hundreds of thousands of dollars. As a result, my already modest pay was halved, leaving me with minimum wage.

This pay cut left me feeling bitter and created challenges for me. Prior to the reduction, I was barely managing to get by. I was still tutoring in New Haven, which provided decent income, but that only accounted for about a quarter of my weekly hours. The majority of my time was committed to Brett’s venture. I hadn’t pursued new clients for my own business in months, lacking both the time and energy to do so. However, I was determined to obtain that equity. It was about more than just financial gain; I had played a significant role in building Brett's company. Every piece of writing had passed through my hands before being published online or sent out in emails. I felt deserving of a share in the company, so I remained involved despite the devastating pay cut, which made my life significantly more difficult.

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