Under normal circumstances, I never answer the door. I let somebody else get it or I ignore it. Anybody who wants to get in touch with me can do so by phone or email or Facebook. However, since my mother can’t answer the door, I now have to. Yesterday, the doorbell rang and I groaned. It’s possible that it was somebody for my mother which I wouldn’t have minded. But, another more likely possibility existed. That it was a door to door salesman. I opened the door to find three black women standing there. Their ages indicated they were all family: A young teenager, an elderly woman, and another in her 30s or 40s. The middle one smiled and gave me a brief greeting. She then pulled out a bible and started reading to me.
“Ugh,” I thought as I listened politely. Though the woman I spoke to was very sweet and charming, I still hate having to deal with things like this. (And is precisely why I don’t answer the door.)
Apparently, they were selling a religious booklet. I declined and they gave me a Watchtower magazine and went on their way.
Even though my atheism screams in protest whenever I have to listen to this sort of thing, I still strongly prefer the missionaries over the door-to-door salesmen we occasionally get.