No Soliciting

There is nothing more obnoxious to me than to drive into my neighborhood and see the big white van parked on the side of the road while the team splits up and heads out door to door. My first experience with this was when a toothless (yes, literally toothless) woman showed up at our apartment in San Jose selling cleaning solution. I was sold the moment she unscrewed the sprayer, pulled out the tube and licked it to show me how harmless the chemicals are. Hmmm…I wonder what happened to her teeth. I’m a sucker for a sob story so I naturally overspent and sent her on her way.


Since we moved into our neighborhood five years ago we have been door to door violated by people selling concrete, water softeners, home security systems, attic insulation, magazines and pesticides that promise to kill Aragog and his children before they storm the house and carry away my offspring.

So the other night the wife, the kids and I had the rare occasion of sitting down together for dinner when the doorbell rang. One of the kids opened the door and I heard, “Oh, ya’ll are eatin’ dinner? I’m so sorry. I’ll just run visit your neighbors and will be right back.” You’d have thought we just received the public service warning that Hurricane Earl was 5 minutes away. My wife was boarding up the windows while I was screaming at the kids to carry as many precious memories as their little arms could handle downstairs into the bomb shelter. Unfortunately, our emergency response training failed us miserably as good ol’ Byron returned and spotted me through the window.

Byron gave us the tired old story about living on the mean streets of Chicago and trying to get his life back together to be a good example for his 15 year old son. Apparently God has blessed him with an amazing opportunity to get his life back in order, “Praise Jesus.” I think he honestly believed this was the first time we had heard this story. I loved how quickly his face could go from happy-go-lucky to serious-as-a-heart-attack.

His first plan of attack was Flattery. He commented on our kids, the mountains, our house, how good our spaghetti smelled and how if I happened to break wind he was sure it would smell of fresh daisies. He was so friendly that, for a minute, I thought we were long lost war buddies. We laughed, we cried, we reminisced. Once we were properly softened up, Byron pulled out his list of neighbors who had purchased magazines from him. Obviously, this was step two of the attack – Peer Pressure. Now we were his. He pulled out the list of magazines and told me that the minimum order is three, with the cheapest magazine being $55. The look of shock on my face told him to push step two even more forcefully. He told us that he could go to any house in our neighborhood and they would gladly order $300-$500 of magazines. When my wife asked him if there was anything a little cheaper he went to step three – Guilt. Apparently because I don’t spend $150 on magazines I hate the poor, have no compassion, love Al Qaeda, eat kittens and kick babies. When my wife asked if we could just make a donation he went on a tirade about how dishonest we are for even offering that when he is trying to be honest in the eyes of God. I believe it was when my wife asked, “Why they gots to be so expensive?” when he moved into step 4 – Anger. He packed up his stuff and walked out of the door mumbling under his breath. I definitely took it as the kiss of death when he hit the sidewalk and lit up a cigarette. Needless to say, the kids didn’t get to play outside for the rest of the night and we made a quick run to Walmart to do something I never thought I’d do….buy a No Soliciting sign.