Several years ago, when we were living in Deseret, I was proud of my ingenuity. You see, it was April 15th. We were living in an apartment we were about to move out of. And that was when the Mormon missionaries showed up. They’d been coming around quite regularly. Our complex was a den of iniquity in need of saving. And I was a little nice to them at the outset, which gave them the impression that they had… ahhh… a prayer… of converting me, I guess. Anyway, when they stopped by, I was really not in the mood to deal with them. But then I remembered! It’s April 15th. I told them that I desperately need to work on my taxes. They went their merry way. I moved, and never saw them again. Apparently, the Mormon Intelligence Community was not able to track my movements (this is not always the case, I should point out). I still have the Book of Mormon they gave me, marked passages (1 Nephi 8 is the big one I remember, though there was another one) and all. I even read it – start to finish – last year.
Earlier today on Mindless Diversions, I referred to Lain as “My Little Bundle of Excuses”… for why I stopped keeping up with the Fringe book club, why blogging output has fallen, just about everything.
Today, Lain gave me another great excuse. A Kirby Vacuum Cleaner salesperson showed up on our door. Now, I came close to being a Kirby salesperson myself. He also seemed developmentally disabled (perhaps something as minor as a speech impediment). It was not a situation I was anxious to say “Hellz no!” Even though we’re about to have to start pinching pennies and a good vacuum cleaner was not high on our list. If I couldn’t say no then, why would I expect to be able to say no after he gives me the presentation? It’s an impressive presentation, and given Clancy’s aversion to dirt and greater general concern about cleanliness, he might be able to sell her.
Then Lain cried. I told him, “Sorry, not interested. The baby has been a wreck today.”
He said he understood and went on his merry way.
I was using Mayonnaise as an excuse before he even arrived. “Oh… a meeting? At 5:30? Sorry, we’ve got an OB appointment.” Rinse, repeat.
We used Lain to get out of a speeding ticket, before she was born. (I mean, we didn’t say she was in labor, but I did say that my pregnant wife was late for a doctor’s appointment.)
I’ve always found that “get the hell off my porch” works well.
When it comes to door knockers and phone salesmen, it’s best to be polite, firm and abrupt.
“I’m sorry, your visit/call comes as an interruption just now.”
“Sorry, no time to talk. Must run.”
“Goodbye.”
the best one I ever heard was “working with phyllo dough. come again”
Show up at the door shirtless and unashamed. Maintain eye contact.
Soooooo… the usual?
Awesome.
Tame.
If you really want to get onto the “never come again” list *(yes they all have one)
just ask them to tell you all about it… and start masturbating as they do it.
Get really into it.
… I’m told this works. I have no doubt it does.
But probably best done in a vestibule.
Yeah, feasible for you. 😀 Recommendations for the other half of the population?
I have to keep my door-to-door salesman responses straight:
Seriously, since we got the security screen door it’s been way easier to tell anyone who shows up at the door “Thanks but no thanks.” The physical barrier between us is a powerful psychological crutch.
“The universe has already provided me with more than enough vacuum.”
Nature abhors a Kirby
It is sort of like when you’re approaching someone you know but not all that well… and you raise your hand for a high five and they go for a fist bump and you end up with some weird hand enveloping gesture that makes everyone feel awkward.
There are no atheists in that situation.
See, I always screw up those social protocols. I am terrible at it. Some people have instincts for that sort of thing, but not me.
Then there are the spoken ones…
“Whats up?”
“GOOD!”
When I was in college I was sent by the college jobs office to be a Kirby salesman. I lasted two hours.
I’ll see that and raise you spending a day as one of those guys on the streets of New York who tries to shake people down to sponsor a child overseas.
I almost pushed myself into the gutter.
I went through 2/3 of the Kirby sales orientation.
I actually gave one of the best one-liners of my life. The teacher-dude had a pretty obvious hickey. We were asking him about it. He gave a lame story about having been elbowed in basketball. It didn’t look like he was elbowed, so I was like “Right on your hickey?! That must have hurt…”
He flipped me off. People laughed. That sort of thing rarely happens to me.
I assume he was testing the power of the kirby.
I’ve had a half dozen Mormon girls show up on my doorstep, twice. As with telemarketers and others, I’ll give everyone a basic level of polite. On the phone, after I’ve said no, the next reponse is “what part of no was unclear”.
Now for the Mormon girls-it’s always been girls for some reason-concluding they were Mormon from their clothing, general politeness, and such, I asked, “yall doing your missionary work?” Yeses all around. Bit of chit chat and I indicate I’m not interested and they are on their way.
I don’t mind if they’re upfront about it because then I can be upfront with them. But I hate when they start the conversation via manipulation or under false pretenses…
“Excuse me, sir, do you think children should be burned alive?”
“Of course not!”
“Well then, let’s talk about the saving grace of God and his power to keep children from experiencing eternal damnation when the rapture arrives.”
Have you tried answering that question “yes”?
Heh… In hindsight, I usually think of all the nefarious ways I could have responded. But they tend to catch me off guard… These are more people-on-the-street types that door-to-door types. If someone blindsides you with that sort of question, it is hard for me to get the Snark Ray out and firing quickly enough.
Stupid gun control nuts.
I think the only appropriate answer is of course not, because if they’re burned alive try aren’t kosher.
“Which… which children are we talking about here?”
“Only children?”
Do they crisp up nicely?
I prefer poached.
That’s not Mormon’s talking to you then. Mormon’s teach that all children who die when young are saved. Heck, Jesus compared the kingdom of God to “little children”. Just thought I’d mention that.
I don’t know who the people are… they bumrush you on the streets of Manhattan or in a Target.
I used to live in an apartment complex where the local Mormon temple maintained an apartment for its missionaries. So, I ran into them every day. I don’t mean I ran into them once in a while, or even a few times a week. I ran into them every day. For years. Years.
It always seemed like just when I’d convinced a pair that I was hopeless, they would be replaced by a new pair, and I’d have to start all over again. It was my own little Sisyphean nightmare.
Also, in case you haven’t had enough interactions with Mormon missionaries to tell, they have a set of questions and a set of answers/responses to give for just about anything they might regularly here from their victims interlocutors. They receive them during their intensive training I assume. After you’ve interacted with them more than a few dozen times, it becomes pretty easy to know exactly what they’re going to say and try to fish with them.
“Do you see yourselves as part of the Protestant Reformation?”
I always enjoyed running down that rabbit trail.
I did ask a few of them whether they considered themselves Protestants. I also asked what they thought of the fact that a substantial number of Evangelicals and fundamentalist Christians considered them to be non-Christians, and members of a cult. I also offered them a beer regularly.
Last time, I reminisced with them about my days living in Salt Lake City. About the third time I asked if they ever go to the Dead Goat, instead of reminding me once again that they’re not actually from Utah, they looked at each other, shook their heads sadly, and left.
Next time I’ll have to try that on some Jehovah’s Witnesses.
I should note that they were, pretty much to a person, incredibly friendly people. They were always offering to help me with stuff. Need help with Spring cleaning? Could you use a hand changing your oil filter? And if I said I didn’t need any help, they’d ask me if I knew anyone else who needed help with anything.