Door to Door

I almost never sit on the back steps at my house - maybe a couple times a year at most.

But there I was the other night. My daughter, Holly, and I were taking turns mowing the yard. While she was finishing the front yard—and I waited to do the back yard—I just needed to find a spot to cool my heels for a minute.

Lost in my thoughts...that's when I heard the voice.

"Can I speak to you for a minute?"

Now to set the scene for you, my back yard is secluded. There are woods in a semi-circle ringing the lot. No neighbor can see my back yard and vice versa. 

So, you can see why my first thought was "who was that?" Was it a voice from within? From beyond? A homeless person in the woods? (No, that happened at our previous house).

It was a door to door salesman. 

The peddler, a young man who looked to be in his early 20s, had hit Holly up in the front yard. She told him, truthfully, that she didn't own the home. She added that he could find the homeowner in the back yard. so, he did.

That brings us back to the voice and the moment I heard it. It was this salesman and he wanted to talk to me about signing on for a pest control contract.  

Between friends, I wasn't the least bit interested. I was sweaty and a bit tired. And we don't have pests. I was firm, but gentle. "As one of my baseball coach friends told another coach once, 'The answer is no.'"

He nodded, accepting defeat.

A bit later, in the shower, I reflected on the exchange. You don't see folks going door to door much these days. In mid-century America it was just the thing.

The salesperson, often a man carrying a black briefcase, knocked on your door; ready to show you his wares. 

I think my mom may have occasionally bought a product - maybe a small gadget or cleanser. 

Barney Fife famously sold vacuum cleaners in one episode of The Andy Griffith Show. In the pre-internet days. we didn't have so many avenues to make a purchase. So, selling door to door was viable. 

One of my childhood friends got roped into selling seeds one summer - flowers and vegetables. He pulled his red wagon from house to house.

In our 20+ years at this home, I think we've had a handful of folks coming by to try to sell us on a product or service. I remember tree trimmers on the street once. Since they were set up down the block, wouldn't we want them to take down the such-and-such?

'The answer was no."

And so it was the other night as I waited my turn to mow. The fella tried a couple approaches but quickly realized he was wasting his time and mine. He was gracious about accepting my final answer.

As he ambled off to head down my street to the next neighbor, he complimented me on our home. I thanked him for the kudos. 

He added he hoped to own a place like this someday. 

"Keep at it," I told him. "You'll get there someday." He nodded and smiled.

Whereas I didn't want or need the service he offered, I wanted to give him a little encouragement. I do admire a young man with a little moxie.

JG