Knock, knock–who's there?

When you spend most of your time in the house, for whatever reason, you will get the lion's share of the door knocks.  My customary response is not to answer it. Most of my friends, knowing about my Ataxia and that it takes forever for me to get to the front door, either call first or come prepared to wait–forever. Ignoring the knock at the door can be an effective strategy in avoiding the unwanted visitor, but it doesn't work if you're outside, so it's best to have several different defenses.

I've had to work on my "I'm not interested" skills.  Trouble is, while some people have no difficulty saying "I'm not interested", I do.  I just want everyone to like me (another disability). My son and husband love the door to door game, their specialty being the student soliciting donations for a non-profit.  But Jason has a job and his own family home.  Earl usually gets home after the door to door people have come and gone. They miss all the fun here.

It's not even my senior status, Ataxia, or hair color (granted they are risk factors) that label me an easy mark.
I truly believe the most significant factor is that I have just never been able to think well on my feet (pun intended).  I'm a verbal master (well, written, anyway) given enough thinking time, but no match for high pressure sales tactics and fast talkers. They've had training–I haven't.  Often, I'll answer the door in my "Pollyanna" mode instead of my "Wicked Witch" mode.  I might as well have "TARGET" tattooed on my forehead.

I do have separate guidelines for a young relative or neighborhood child.  I don't care what they're selling or why–I'll buy it. I remember the agony of selling cookies when I was a child.  But, I don't have a problem handling faith–based solicitors. When asked by a cheerful, motherly woman if I've found Jesus, I either respond that we're Jewish or else I didn't know he was lost. That actually often works–what's she going to say?

It's the disadvantaged young men selling magazines that really do me in. They're courteous, well-dressed, speak faster than a talk-show host, and want help "turning their life around", rather than resorting (returning?) to crime.  Even when I know better, I sign-up for several reasons (door to door sales 101). Hook one, I am susceptible to anything that reminds me I'm a "have" in a world of "have-nots." Hook two, salesmen often have written commitments from the neighbors and I don't want to look cheap/uncaring/bad (salesmen count on all the neighbors thinking that).  Hook three, I'm certain this line of work will eventually fail and, remembering that I stiffed him, the salesman will return and rob me.  It may be biased, but if salespeople can profile "at home" women, I can profile door to door men selling magazines.

People may view Skeeter or the rollator as a sales advantage, but playing the "handicapped card" has helped deter them several times.  I'm not above that and it feels a little less cowardly (but not much), than just ignoring the knock at the door.  Although I'm usually a wimp, I have had the occasional redeeming moment when provoked.

Using shame is one of the favored door to door sales tactics.  Unfortunately for salespeople, that's one I don't bite on.  In fact, it's one of the triggers for my "wicked witch side".

Years ago, I let a nice, young vacuum salesman into the house.  His sales tactics were effective and he decided I was ready for the hook.  After running his spiffy, expensive vacuum over my family room carpet...

Nice Salesman:  "Wow, I'll bet you never realized how much dirt is left in a carpet your children play on."

He had no way of knowing that, first, being a stellar housekeeper, Mt. St. Helens could erupt on my carpet and I wouldn't care.  Second, a man shaming a woman in her home, does so at his own peril.

Tammy (malevolently):  "Get out."  He must have thought I had lost it, was coming unhinged, and was entirely too close to kitchen knives, because he did leave–quickly.

Fast forward 30 years.  We really did have to replace the 35 year old vacuum system and get some new attachments.  Jordon was young, nice and I liked him.  He came at the appointed time, installed the new system quickly and sold me some extra attachments.  In the process of testing/demonstrating the attachments, he vacuumed my family room carpet...

Jordon:  "Wow, I'll bet you never realized how much dirt is left in a carpet."
Thirty years does bring some maturity, and having some disabilities, I clearly wasn't in a confrontational mood.   Perhaps this was a teachable moment.

Tammy (standing up, supported by my rollator):  "Jordon, here's your check.  Thank you for the service.  If you ever shame a woman into buying your product, I will hunt you down and kill you."  OK–we both knew it was an empty threat, but he didn't laugh and he's not likely to forget the encounter.  The next day, I got the customary "Thank you for your purchase and how was the (heh, heh) service?" call from the shop owner.  Jordon had obviously shared.  He probably called me something derogatory, but the sharing was all I cared about.

Such a nice boy...

So, is that my customary handling of door to door sales?  Nope.  I have to own up to fundamentally being a coward.  The best solution for door wimps like me is to have a professional-looking business card with the name and contact information of your financial advisor.  If I mistakenly answer the door, I can hand that out and say kindly,   "I'm sorry.  I don't buy or sign anything.  My financial advisor does all that for me.  She's so helpful.  Please call her."  What if there is no financial advisor?  Doesn't matter–she'd never get a call anyway.

I wish, but it doesn't go with the decor

The lesson:  Be brave, but don't answer the door.