Knock, knock...

I'm beginning to notice that i only really blog about things which bother me and that this fact then turns my blog into an arena for rants. To buck this trend here is a joke -

Knock, knock.
- who's there?
I'd love hope
-I'd love hope who?
Ha ha ha ha, you said you'd love a poo! ha ha ha.

Actually, that knock knock joke reminds me of something which really upset me!

Earlier today I was sat in the lounge and there was a knock at my door. I got up instinctively, since often a knock at the door can be a sign that there is someone there who either wishes to come in, or at least would like my attention for some reason. This action was also tinged with curiosity since i wasn't expecting anyone. When i got to the door there stood a man in his forties who I didn't recognise. He was in the kind of coat a football manager would wear, not the woollen Ron Atkinson type, the polyester Martin Jol type. He asked if the car parked out front was mine. (This car is the car i got back from the garage yesterday and i've only really stopped stroking it momentarily since, and this was in order to get some sleep last night.) My face must have contorted horribly, since i thought about a thousand things at once and not one of them was positive: Had he just driven into it? Had he driven into it last week? Had he seen who'd driven into it last week? Has he stolen it? Of course he hasn't stolen it, if he'd stolen it i wouldn't be looking at it and he wouldn't be knocking on my door! Has he seen someone attempt to steal it?
These were the things which were racing around between my ears while i answered his question with a simple 'yes'. "Don't worry" he said, "it's nothing bad". If anything, this statement only raised my anxiety further, if it's nothing bad it still must be something, and since it is indeed something, the fact that one chooses to make reassurances rather than come straight to the point is a concern - particularly when i've only just got my car back from the garage!

As he made his frustrating protestation, he extended his hand which had something in it. By sheer reflex i also extended mine to receive what he was offering me. It was a small piece of solid plastic with lettering on it which i couldn't read on account of my heightened adrenaline levels. I was only to be confused further when he said "These are just some numbers i made up."

'Why have you come to my house to show me numbers you've made up?' I thought. Then it all clicked as he said "We can put these on all your windows and lights" - He was showing me a sample of the etched licence plate numbers cars have for security. I realised that he was selling me something on my doorstep and as such fell into the mental category of visitor i like to call 'door-to-door salesman'. At this point i decided to treat him as such, and said a firm, but accompanied with a smile and direct eye eye-contact "No thanks, I'm not going to take any". He responded with "Why not?". 'Persistent' I thought, and so i opted for a recently adopted tactic of dealing with door-to-door sales and telesales. I figure ultimately they want my money, so tell them you don't have any. In my case it's true, and even more so since some *expletive, deleted* *expletive, deleted* *expletive, deleted* drove into my car and buggered off!

"I can't afford it" I said, in no way offering anything for discussion. "Well," he said "we don't do it now, we'll come back and do it when it's convenient". His stupidity knocked my concentration and i was offended that he thought i was stupid enough to think he'd set about the job right there and then. I got half way through attempting to explain that my lack of cash ran beyond just what money i happened to have in the house, then i gave up, realising that had i gone any further it would have been an invitation to discuss finances and price etc. Then it all turned. "So you want your car stolen do you?" he asked. 'Bloody hell!' i thought, i've heard more subtle threats made in pre-heavyweight championship press conferences. "Of course i don't want my car stolen" i said, he looked at me and gave a terribly Gallic, 'que sera' laced shrug. It was at this point i much more consciously noted that he wasn't wearing any sort of i.d and i didn't even have a company name.

He asked again, more forcefully and aggressively "why not then?" and i said "well, for one, i don't agree with door-to-door sales' immediately the response came 'It's my job, you've got a job haven't you?' There were about eleven levels on which i'd have liked to respond to just this one statement of his, but my main concern and prioirity was his insistance on making this personal. I just said "It's not about you".
"So why don't you like door-to-door sales?" he said. Almost laughing at his inability to guess, even in the face of the conversation we were having, why i don't like door-to-door sales, i thought i'm going to have to somehow make it even more explicit. "I often find that it can get aggressive and confrontational, and all on my own door step" Still refusing to acknowledge any of the irony and persisting with what someone must have told him about 'as long as you're in conversation you can still make a sale' he said "I see your point, but this is my job, it's my business, I've got to make sales, I've got to sell to make money. I've already made seven sales like this. The people you work for have got to sell a product for you to get your money, that's all I'm doing."

In a fraction of a second i had a whole conversation with him in my head about my job and where the money comes from - and converts - and door-to-door evangelism - and fear based evangelism and - indoctrination - and the whole concept of titheing - and selling Jesus as a product - and the idea of Jesus as an exclusive ticket to Heaven, and decided not to take it down that road. Instead, i gave a resigned 'yes'. He had finally given up though, he took his piece of plastic back and turned to leave, i wished him luck but he didn't respond in any way at all, he was already working out which other cars on the street correlate to which houses... i returned to Kelly in the lounge who, having heard everything, was completely freaked out by the stranger at the door. And i get angry about door-to-door sales at the best of times.

I'm not sure how soundly i'm going to sleep over the next few nights, but at least i'm not going to Hell.