ring-ring-ring-ring-ring-ring-ring-ring-ring
(goes to back door)
knock-knock-knock-knock-knock-knock-knock-knock-knock
(door is answered)
Yes?
I would like to tell you about . . .
Sorry to interrupt, but which cult are you from?
Sir, [insert splinter Christian group here] is not a cult.
I see. Are all [insert splinter Christian group here] rude and illiterate? (closes door).
You may substitute Scientology instead of [insert splinter Christian group here].
It started out as a dreary and joyless day, just like any other. I was trudging across a small section of a small town in northern Virginia. It was summer, and the sun beat down upon my head mercilessly. I had managed to talk the last lady into giving me a glass of water, which I promptly spilled while dodging a vehicle determined to show me that pedestrians do not, in fact, have the right of way. I watched sadly as the puddle evaporated before my eyes, thinking with dread about the 100+ houses I had yet to visit today.
Ah, the joys of a door-to-door salesman.
I had taken this thankless job out of desperation, after moving to Maryland and discovering that my resume (at the time) generated laughter rather than job offers. I had been at this for a month now, and my spirit was just about broken. The worst was the dress code - 100 degrees outside, and still we needed to wear a shirt and tie all day. No, actually the worst was when people threatened to shoot me if I didn’t get off of their porch. Yeah. That was the worst.
I slowly trudged towards my next victim’s place of residence, ready for my next rejection. Little did I know that my whole day was about to turn around.
A few hours earlier, I had passed a group of Jehova’s Witnesses. They seemed impervious to the heat, and all too delighted that someone else was on the door-to-door trail with them today. I didn’t think anything of it, until I rang the door of the next house. On the third ring, the door slowly opened, and a face was revealed. It looked very familiar… gradual recognition passed over both of our faces, followed by a look of abject fear from the guy at the door and a subtle mischievous grin from yours truly.
I had found where the Jehova’s Witnesses lived.
Now, the thing that I was selling was just a coupon deal for restaurants (for $20, got you a bunch of buy-one-get-one-free thingies), so I didn’t have the same wealth of material to draw upon as the JW’s did. But lemme tell you, I sold and I sold HARD. Every objection they had, I overcame. Every attempt to escape, I foiled. Every attempt to turn the conversation, I turned it back. The victim had become the aggressor. I could see that they were in uncharted territory, and not sure what to do. I almost felt pity, but then I remembered the countless visits from the JW’s that I had been subjected to, when trying to eat, trying to sleep, or maybe just trying to relax.
As I strutted away from the house, my pocket stuffed with over a hundred dollars in sold coupon-thingie stubs, I couldn’t help but cackle gleefully. I think they might have heard me… and I think that makes me even happier about the whole thing.
I’ve never had a missionary come to my door (well, once, but I was sleeping and didn’t hear the knocking, they left a tract under the door), but I have encountered Mormons on the streets around where I work, they like to walk around that section of town and stop people.
So, I’m standing outside having a cigarette, when these two men come up to me and ask if I’d like to take a moment to “listen to their message of Jesus Christ” or whatever their opening spiel is. I said, “No thank you, I’m Wiccan.” What came next really surprised me, they didn’t try to convince me that I’m going to hell and whatnot, they hadn’t heard of Wicca and asked me to explain it to them and tell them a little about my beliefs. It actually turned into a very positive and interesting conversation.
About a week later, I meet the same two men, once again outside where I work while I was on break. They started into their usual pitch, then one of them stopped and said, “hey, didn’t we talk to you last week?” and I said yes, and he said, “Oh right…you’re the Wiccan. How ya’ doin’?”
So they don’t always suck. Though I suppose they may have thought I was beyond salvation…
Miss Manners might not, but the US gummint takes a VERY dim view of people putting stuff into mailboxes/mailslots, unless it’s a letter carrier going about his/her appointed rounds.
The OP was NOT, by the way, just a rant about door to door religious salespeople, but rather a rant on people who don’t heed “no soliciter” signs and ring the doorbell multiple times. The people even went around to the back door! Sheesh. Those are the people that I personally save the “supersoaker” for. That’s just disrespectful.
I personally have no problem with JW or any other groups coming to my house- in fact, I wrote a post last summer about the nice experience I had with them.
http://boards.straightdope.com/sdmb/showthread.php?threadid=36325
from that post:
So the real point here is not that it’s annoying to have door-to-door people show up at your house, but it’s intrusive and rude for them to ring your bell if you have signs up asking them not to. THAT is not part of their religion, that’s being a pain in the ass.
Zette
I agree wholeheartedly.
The only thing I have to add is that, during my door-to-door days, I was indeed supersoaked. Many times. Not that I was the one ignoring the signs and walking to the back door, but enough of my fellow salesfools did that the folks in any given neighborhood began to (understandably) associate me with them.
The only other thing I have to add is how glad I am not to be doing that job anymore.
J.W. : (brightly) “Hi, have we caught you at a good time?”
Me : “Well, I was having sex, which was pretty good, thanks, how can I help you?”
J.W : (off-balance, but recovering nicely) “Oh, er, so you’re married, then?”
Me : “Don’t be stupid! I wouldn’t marry a GOAT!!”
Haven’t had a chance to try this myself, yet, but one day…
[sarcasm]
Yeah, it’s impossible that anyone could visit a house with those signs for legitimate reasons.
[/sarcasm]
I mean, we Mormons occasionally do checkups on people who haven’t attended the local meetings in a while. We often get information that’s little more than an address and then go check the address to verify if the name matches the address and whether the person would like to continue being contacted.
In which case the “No solicitors” is irrelevant, because when I’m doing this I’m not soliciting anything.
And I’m also not trying to convert anyone.
Granted, I wouldn’t go into your back yard, but whoever visited, you may have saved yourself a future visit by simply answering the door.
I guess it would be a shame for you to be civil.
I think it stands to reason that the people who have been attending local meetings aren’t the same people waiting to supersoak you for disregarding their “no solicitor” sign.
But hey, be as scarcastic as you like.
Hey, it’s his house and property; he is under no obligation to answer his door. You have no right to pester people who wish to be left alone.
I didn’t claim any rights of pestering. I was showing how it may be in your best interest to answer the door.
And RiffRaff, read again, I was talking about verifying addresses and checking on people who aren’t attending meetings.
[QUOTE]
*Originally posted by emarkp *
we Mormons occasionally do checkups on people
Mormons? I knew a Mormon once. He warned that my wife and I should never have sex standing up.
Is that a sin I asked?
No, he said. But it could lead to dancing 
:rolleyes:sorry. I couldn’t resist that joke.
When we moved where we are, we were hit several times a summer by the JW’s. After a couple of summers of being polite and listening or just not answering the door, I finally figured out a way to get them to leave us alone. ( My husband let me do the dirty work, as I am apparently the Bad Cop to his Good Cop.)
I was working in my rock strewn yard raking the rocks into piles. Sweating up a storm.It’s July and hot. Up comes a van of JW’s. They are impervious to heat and have hair like a TV weatherman. The women look like Betty Crocker and Mary Kay wanna be’s.
They start in on their spiel and I was exasperated. I had 2 acres of rocks to rake by hand. I just looked at them and said, " Grab and rake and get to work if you want me to listen. I 've got two acres of stone to take care of and need help…"
They split like a banana. So much for Help Thy Neighbor.
This method also helped us get rid of my husband’s aunt and uncle who are known for mooching Sunday dinners off of people. They’ve never been back, either.