I am sure it is a sign of true economic desperation that salesmen keep showing up at my door. I do not live in a neighborhood that screams disposable income, but they keep coming anyway.
A few weeks ago, during a thunderstorm, I had three different sets of post-adolescent salesmen knock on my door in a two hour period. They all wanted to sell me an alarm system. They all had the same shtick, asking me if I knew Mrs. Johnson up the street who just bought an alarm from them. Um, no.
Today, I got the hard sell from a sorry cat who was forced to watch me dab at my face while I ignored every word he said about Cincinnati Bell. He interrupted me while I was picking at the zit on my chin. I'm sure it was the highlght of his day.
I don't like to lead these guys on, but I can't rid of them with honesty. I cannot be mean to them, because I am incapable of being rude and my four year old is watching, so I just listen and then defer all decision making to my absent husband. It's slightly embarrassing, but I usually get them to go away with the phrase, "I'm sorry, but my husband handles all the bills." So much for feminism.
Is anyone else experiencing an epidemic of door-to-door sales?