The Solicitation Situation

I work very hard for my money and my leisure time so when I'm at home, I don't want to be bothered. I'm annoyed by people all week, so the last thing I want when I am chilling in front of the TV or the computer, spending time with my family, or with a good book, is to hear a knock on the door or the chime of my doorbell, unless it's Publisher's Clearinghouse with one of those over sized prop checks that's bigger than my car or Jessica Alba asking me to go away with her for the weekend - for two reasons:

One, Duh, she's hot, and two, she's bright enough to see Bill O'Reilly for what he really is, and confident enough to say it publicly.

However, I am never lucky enough to have a front door visit from either the Clearing House or Jessica. No, these unwelcome front door visits are always solicitors.

If I am going to buy a product or service, I am going to purchase it on the Internet or in person from a legitimate business. Does anyone who isn't a time traveler from the pre-color TV era buy anything at the front door anymore?

This solicitation situation has gotten out of control. They come after dark now and it's reminiscent of the Night of The Living Dead. A while back, one of these solicitors came to my door. I looked out the peep hole because it was after dark and I wasn't expecting anyone with any kind of social etiquette at that hour, but I crossed my fingers for Jessica, or the over sized check just in case. I saw someone with a spray bottle with some type of cleaner I assumed, and a washcloth. That is all I focused on, because you know everyone looks like an organ grinder's monkey through those peep holes so it's useless to try to get a safety reading on a person's face. I shouted through the door, "No Thanks, I'm not interested." The solicitor replied with, "Bless you," and left.

I thought that I was safe for the night, but a few minutes later, someone rang my doorbell again - not a polite, soft "hope your not sleeping" ring of the doorbell, but a rapid succession of multiple machine gun DING DONGS, the kind reserved for, "I cut my foot off with the lawn mower and I'm bleeding all over your front porch" situations. I got up from the couch again. Still, in the back of my mind I was harboring a small hope that Jessica REALLY was desperate for my company, but no, it was one of the spray bottle pixies again. I looked through the peep hole and there was a group of them lurking ominously in my yard and driveway like Amway zombies. I yelled again through the door, "I'm not interested! Someone already came by!" And this person had the nerve to shout back, "When?"

Does it matter? If I wasn't interested earlier, what makes them think I would be interested now? This is America. We are resourceful. I can go to the store and buy a bottle of Windex myself. I don't need a stranger cleaning my kids' face prints and boogers off the window.

I yelled back,"5 minutes ago!" That seemed to do the trick. The solicitor said "Thanks," and stumbled away in the darkness with the rest of the bottle carrying automatons.

What makes these front door invasions worse is that some solicitors that show up on my doorstep aren't selling physical unnecessary products and services, but they are trying to sell me their non-tangible unnecessary products and services, like salvation.

If there's a God and He wants to talk to me, I am sure he knows my cell number. If He wants to call me on my land line, I'm in the book. Not the Book, but the phone book. Oh well, if He's omniscient like they say, He will know which book. I don't think He is going to send two bicycle riding Joe Friday look-a-likes to convince me to sit in a building full of a temporarily, mindless group of overdressed, hypocritical strangers to communicate with Him when he can just give me a ring or send me an e-mail. You know He has got to have the fastest Internet service available.

Don't come to my door to recruit me into your flock, or to save me from my evil ways. Don't waste my time or your own by even walking up my driveway. The bottom line is, attention door-to-door profits/prophets: I'm not buying what you're selling at my front door. I think I am going to have to post a No Solicitors sign on my door to keep the zombie peddlers away. Jessica Alba and Publisher's Clearing House, of course can disregard it.

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