Built on the doors,
not in a boardroom.

MapMyTurf started as an in-house tool. We run a pest control company in Brisbane, Australia, that grows by knocking on doors — real crews, real suburbs, every week. We went looking for software that could split a suburb into fair territories, and everything we tried thought in rectangles.

Rectangles are how a map looks from a desk. On the ground, a territory is streets: both sides of the road, the whole cul-de-sac, not the creek and not the school oval. A "fair split" means every rep gets roughly the same number of actual doors — not the same number of square metres.

So we built the tool we couldn't buy. A split engine that thinks in street blocks. Door counts from official government address data — G-NAF in Australia, the National Address Database in the US — so a 150-door patch means 150 letterboxes. A live map tied to the shift clock, because crews deserve to know location sharing ends the second they clock off.

Our own crews run on it every week. Every feature on the features page exists because a rep or a manager hit a real problem on a real street — the callback that got forgotten, the cul-de-sac split between two reps, the evening lost to colouring maps by hand.

Then other companies started asking about it. So we white-labelled it: your name, your colours, your web address, our engine underneath. That's MapMyTurf.

What we believe

Fair patches make honest leaderboards. If one rep gets 90 doors and another gets 200, the numbers mean nothing. Fairness isn't a nice-to-have — it's what makes every other number in the app worth looking at.

Location sharing belongs to the shift. A rep on the clock is a dot on the map. A rep off the clock is a private person. We built that line into the product and we won't blur it.

Real data or no data. Door counts come from official address databases, not guesses. When the map says a number, someone can stake a day's work on it.