I Hear You Knockin'

As businesses have progressed from trying to sell us stuff through the newspaper, the mail, the phone, radio, television, billboards, magazines, movie screens, our e-mail, the Internet and then through our phones again, it’s hard to imagine a need for the door-to-door salesman. Not just hard to imagine, but painful. Painful to think that the practice of door-to-door solicitation still continues. But it does still continue. God, does it continue.

I would have thought that all those other advertising mediums developed out of the salesman’s desperation to end his days of being spit on and fleeing from pet Dobermans. But apparently there are salesmen out there who haven’t been spit on enough. Not enough to make them try a different method, anyway.

And if your Doberman doesn’t curtail their efforts, don’t think that a little sign in the front of your neighborhood that clearly reads, “No solicitation” is going to do the trick either. I’m not sure what compels a person to think that the middle of the afternoon on a weekday is the best time to speak to people face-to-face, but apparently they’re coming across enough individuals to make it worth their while.

Even if the decades-old practice continues, the goods and services they peddle have certainly changed from 50 years ago. The days of people hawking milk, vacuum cleaners and anvil polish have been replaced with pleas from lawn care professionals, tree removal experts and cable providers. Then again, the Bible salesman still makes the rounds.

Maybe the growing number of people who work from home is giving the door-to-door salesman a larger playing field, or maybe my personal neighborhood has more stay-at-home moms than I thought. Whatever the reason, ours is a beacon for them. And when your phone is unmuted during a conference call with your boss is not the time you want someone banging on your door and shouting, “Have you found Jesus?!” Don’t be surprised if your first thought is, “You’re going to if you don’t get the hell off my property.”

My family and I were even approached the other night at a restaurant. And not by the waiter. In his defense, this particular gentleman wasn’t exactly trying to sell us anything, but he did ask for the attention of half our table. He was a magician and he wanted to perform a few tricks for the kids. A harmless enough gesture, but not exactly what I expected from the evening. Although, again, in the magician’s defense, I guess I should have. It was, after all, Kid’s Night at this particular establishment and the restaurant employs this master illusionist every week on Kid’s Night, which happens to be a popular night to go because kids eat free. Which is exactly why we went. So… yeah. Whatever.

A magician entertaining my kids for free on Kid’s Night I can tolerate. I cannot, however, tolerate strangers knocking on my door. If the ‘No Call Lists’ are pushing telemarketers out into the streets and onto our front porch steps, I’d almost be willing to get back on every call list that exists. I’d rather dodge phone calls than dive behind my couch wishing the curtains weren’t open.

Those are times when I wish I was holding some of the things from my restaurant table – a glass of tea, a plate full of mashed potatoes and gravy, and a bottle of squeezable ketchup. Nothing says ‘Not Interested’ like spelling it out on someone’s shirt with a bottle of squeezable ketchup.

Alternatively, I guess I could set up a series of traps outside my front door as if I were living in a Bugs Bunny cartoon. A giant pit hidden under the ‘Welcome’ mat; logs that swing down and crush an unsuspecting doorbell pusher; maybe even a moat. Those “Beware of Dog” signs are popular, but I’d almost want something that speaks specifically and directly to someone trying to sell something. Maybe a giant hanging tarp that stretches from one side of my house to the other that reads, “We Don’t Want Any.”

When I want to purchase something, odds are I can find it myself. Unless it’s a moat. If you have one of those on clearance, feel free to stop by.