Here's The Deal...Go Away

After dealing with people all the live long day, I return home each evening for one thing: Solitude. Sometimes, I choose to hobnob...inviting company over, going out to dinner, etc; but generally, when I get home I want to be antisocial. This is why when someone approaches my front door without an invitiation...I become irate. I feel violated. I chose to exclude myself from the general public and here comes some fool who totally disregards my choice. The Nielsen ratings people have finally left me alone, and now...I am being harrassed by U-Verse.

It wouldn't have been so bad if they had just dropped in once.

My canine doorbell, Harriet, sounded the alarm that someone was about to interrupt my solitude, so I went to my battlestation...the kitchen floor, before the nosy ass guy could peer into my windows. Clearly, I am going to have to choose between glorious sunlight into my home and privacy. I crouched down in the kitchen floor and waited while Mr. Persistant knocked on my front door and thoroughly upset my Harriet. When I felt it was safe, I came out of hiding and was relieved to see the burgundy dress shirt wearing oaf shuffling away. The burgundy dress shirt tells me either small town politician or Jesus freak. I resumed my activities, mundane tasks such as laundry and dinner prep.

See, it isn't that I am making meth in my house and I'm trying to be all secretive...it really is just that I deal with people all day and I need QUIET after 5pm. I have come to appreciate quiet in my current job. All day long it's drama drama drama; therefore, I don't even turn the tv on for background noise anymore. And, I especially abhor small talk. Chatting is not my strong suit. Pleasantries annoy me. Make no mistake, I am pleasant...but only because I am required to be. At home, there are no requirements. No one is paying me to be here, at home, so I figure I get to have things my way for a few hours. And my way is...solitude.

I was in my kitchen contemplating side items when I saw the figure walk by my kitchen window again, only this time...I was spotted. It is a funny thing about human nature. I now felt obligated to answer the facking door. I opened my rarely used front door, but not the storm door, pointing out a newly built bird's nest in the wreath on the door. The birds chose my door specifically for it's lack of business. I explained that I would not be opening the storm door to the young man, pointing out the bird's nest. This doofus looked at the nest and in an astonished voice says, "Oh my gosh! How did that happen!?" Ok. A simple plea for my money is one thing...but to be expected to stand there and give an explanation on the mating and nesting habits of starlings is more than I can bear. "Um...a bird flew up there and built it. Now, what can I help you with?" I made him talk to the wreath.

I received a history of telecommunications, culminating into an explanation of how awesome U-verse it. Well, if it is so awesome, why is it being peddled door to door like a non birthday celebrating religion?? I reported that I was happy with what I had; therefore, I was not interested. As I began to close the door, this doofus asks how I access the internet. I repeat my mantra, "I am happy with my current service. No thanks." Not to be dismissed, he asked if I had a landline. "The answer is no." My door was almost latched when he said, "I was just trying to save you money on your tv and internet package." Oh. He must not know about me.

See, I let one of "those" people in once. Once. I'd like to say I ate her liver with some fava beans and a nice chianti, but I didn't. I allowed this persistent Neilson ratings woman into my home and sat through a 30 minute seminar on how my address was THE ONLY ADDRESS in Tipton County that was eligible to be monitored. Oh, and they would pay me. It was too good to be true. They would pay me to watch tv? Yes. So, in my greediness for all things cash, I signed up. If anything, it would put an end to the frequent drop in visits. One week later, a dude shows up with what appears to be the inventory from a cb radio repair shop. That's the "state of the art" equipment that would be hooked up to my tvs. That's the shit that would be cluttering up my minimalist decor. No ma'am. I sent him away and then had to endure increasing harrassment (and an occassional gift) from them to get me to reconsider. I haven't seen them in a year or so. I finally just began answering the door with "NO!" Seems to have worked.

So, if I will say "NO!" to $200 every few months for doing nothing more than living in electronic clutter, I damn sure am not going to sit through a pitch for something that will likely end up costing me more money.

I am totally going to be one of those old people who tapes notebook paper and sharpie notes to my storm door, shooing away any unwanted visitors. My creative juices are flowing, thinking about what I could write on them to deter the pushing of the doorbell. It would actually be a great social experiment. If I was into social experimentation. Which I'm not.