When I was in Jr. High, I found myself in the rather ridiculous predicament of always being home sick when the Jehovah’s Witnesses showed up. The doorbell would ring, and though I tried to be sneaky, they always caught a glimpse of me, so I had to open the door. The second time they showed up, they actually remembered me, and asked “did you have a chance to read the literature we left you last month?”
When I mentioned this to my mother later on, she advised me, “just tell them that you’re perfectly happy with your own religion, and tell them to have a good day.”
This didn’t sound like anything I would ever say, so I decided then and there that I would just stop answering the door.
A few years later, I was living in Fargo, and I came home to find The Book of Mormon and an assortment of pictures of Jesus spread out on the coffee table. They were spread out in such a way that it made me feel like someone had broken into my house to arrange them nicely, and was interrupted. When then-boyfriend came home and I asked him what the hell Jesus was doing all over the coffee table, he informed me, “Some Mormons stopped by, so I argued with them for a while, and they asked if I wanted a free copy of The Book of Mormon. It was free, so I said ‘of course’.” He then shelved it in the office in between The King James Version and Ken’s Guide to the Bible and exclaimed how well-rounded we were. “Now we can make fun of almost everything.”
Later, my brother told me that if Mormons come knocking on your door, you can ask them to do chores for you. I’ve never tested this theory, but it is interesting– seems like kind of a dick move though, and I’d probably feel guilty.
Lately, I’ve noticed that at my house in Providence, people have been ringing my doorbell a lot. At first I thought maybe I’ve been home more often, and this is what goes on while I’m at work or school, but I’m really not sure.
About a month ago, at 1am, there was a cop ringing my doorbell. When I asked him what he wanted, he asked me if I’d called him, and said he’d received a call about loud music from an address that was not mine. I told him that that wasn’t my address, but he said he couldn’t find the one that the dispatcher gave him. It was very strange, but I told him that I hadn’t been bothered by any music, and thanked him for his vigilance.
A little later, it was two guys who wanted to sell me on upgrading to FiOS. When I told them that I have neither a landline telephone nor cable and quoted them how much I pay monthly for internet, they glanced down at the sign-up sheet and said “ok.”
Then another FiOS guy showed up, and when I told him that I’d already spoken to some people about the service, he still tried to sell me on it. Then when I told him that I’m poor, he offered me a job selling FiOS door-to-door.
Yesterday, it was a guy asking if my apartment is for rent, and today some chick for whom I did not answer the door, but I think she rings my doorbell every day cause I know I’ve seen her before.
The problem is, that I always think it just may be important, and it never is. Maybe is the back of my mind, I’m expecting a stranger to show up and give me a box of money, but that’s very unlikely. I think I’ve finally perfected the art of peeking without being seen, and I’m not answering anymore unless it looks like a delivery person.