Hawkers-B-Gone

Somewhat irritated by the sudden increase in door-to-door salesfolk, I’ve put up this sign at the front door.

All right…I know they’re doing their job but what they’re doing has become a daily nuisance.

It is spam on legs.

I used to answer the door to them until a salesman for a telephone company got pretty antsy with me when I said “no, thank you”. Yep. Intimidation’s really gonna make me buy your product. He suddenly found himself facing the sheer wall of the door.

Now I just ignore them by hiding behind my office screen. Even without looking I know it’s not someone I like (the doorbell being dinged madly accompanied by hysterical giggling is a dead giveaway that it’ll be one of my friends). Hawkers, on the other hand, press the bell and hold (so that the ding fades into pointless static). Pause. Press the bell and hold (because the static really roused the occupant last time). Shuffle about on the front step. Cough. Sigh. Sometimes there’ll be a third ding (pretty keen for that sale/entry into heaven/quota) and this is usually where I’ve been caught out hiding from them. Normally after that second ding I’ll wait a moment before peeking round the corner. Yesterday I peeked too soon; the woman, clipboard of tedium in hand, actually had her face pressed to the window, peering in. What she would have seen, no doubt, was a velocity-packin’ silhouette diving out of sight. Subtle.