Friday, February 3, 2012

But wait, there's more!

A door-to-door salesman came by today.

Naturally he knocked when I had just hopped out of the shower, so I rushed around and pulled on the nearest available clothes before I opened the door. Yeah. A powder pink baby tee and a pair of long, red basketball shorts. It was high fashion, y'all.

Factor in two barking/growling/wanting out the door Rhodesians, and it was probably a pretty comical exit from my house to the front porch. Not to mention the fact that my feet were clad in my trusty leopard-print houseboots. (they're not houseshoes--they're houseboots. true story.)

But. There, with barely controlled soggy hair, a horribly mismatched color scheme and my houseboots, I was ready to listen, bells on.

It's true that there for a moment I considered not opening the door.

I really did think about letting him keep on knocking. While my dogs went berserk and tore down every available curtain/mini blind on the west side of my house to get a better look at the offender. It was sorely tempting, window treatments aside. But I've got some serious respect for people who go door-to-door to make a living. I mean, like, SERIOUS respect.

I couldn't do it.
I'm getting nervous and red and sweaty just thinking about it.

I know loads of people are naturally better at talking to strangers than I am. Though it still has to be a little daunting, especially because regardless of your pitch, factors beyond your control influence the potential buyer's decision*. There have been times when I really wanted to buy something, but financially I couldn't swing it. Even though I really, really wanted to. Ah, life.

As it happened, this salesman was really aggressive with whatever he was selling (honestly not sure I could tell you). It took about five seconds for me to realize that whatever it was, I didn't need it. Dude, however, was not to be deterred. At one point, he actually started trying to invite himself in my house** (we were both on the front porch, the door to the house closed. sometimes I can stifle my upbringing and not invite strange people inside and put a beverage in their hand. sometimes.) (common sense, FTW.) I would have been impressed with his tenacity if it wasn't holding me up from my day.

Short of getting irritated, I did what anyone with seven puppies in the backyard would do.

I tried to sell him a puppy.

That, my people, is the unspoken magic trick.

Not only did he bring his rather aggressive pitch to a screeching halt, but he left shortly thereafter.

The only downside to the situation was that he didn't take one.

Apparently we're both bad salespeople.


Currently listening to: Kelly Clarkson--What Doesn't Kill You (Stronger)

*Sounds like publishing, no? Just be thankful we can email query, rather than go door-to-door with our pitches.
**This would have solved the problem. I guess he didn't hear the 160 pounds worth of growl and teeth on the other side of the door. When I walked back in, Bella and Roo were both laying side-by-side, facing the door. I love those crazy dogs.


  1. LOL. I am not allowed to answer the door. I end up buying all kinds of crazy stuff. Except for religous peeps, those I send to my friend's house in the next neighborhood. 'Cause that is funny.

  2. I shouldn't have answered it, and it never fails that I'm almost always the only person home. I try to avoid the door-to-door-religion people. (Not that I don't appreciate their efforts.) My roommate and I used to do rock/paper/scissors it when it came to answering those doors, LOL.