DO NOT Come to My House Selling Crap

We used to have a home phone, but telemarketers screwed that up with their constant calling.  It got so annoying and repeatedly asking to be taken off calling lists seemed to do nothing.  I mean talking in an accent or answering their questions with completely weird and off-base answers wasn’t even fun anymore.  We went to cell phones only.  It certainly has helped, but now the damn telemarketers are showing up at the house.  This, I suppose, no longer makes them telemarketers, but door to door salesman and decidedly more annoying.  Keeping the animals quiet while my partner sleeps during the day for her overnight shift is hard enough…but adding people showing up selling shit is just too much. 

I was reading when the knock on the door happened.  This is always a moment of sheer panic because:  1. I don’t know who it is; 2. I’m usually not wearing any pants; and 3. All four dogs go stark raving crazy-ass mad.  It takes time to open the door, after I’ve found my pants, of course.  You can get one dog back, but another one will jump toward the door.  I’m sure this is both entertaining and truly frightening for whoever knocks at our door. I finally wrestled the dogs back and squeezed out the front door to the porch.  This guy was standing there in a horribly bright orange shirt.  He said, “Oh my, are you running a dog shelter?”  I was already pissed, but now I was really pissed.  Don’t disturb me and then insult my abnormally bad dogs, dickhead.  It made me sort of wish I had accidently let one or maybe two of the dogs out. 

Normally, I’m really pleasant and nice…even when annoyed, but not for this guy.  He started in immediately and I said, “Listen, I’m really not interested in what you are selling.”  I feel like that is the right thing to do, rather than letting him go through all his spiel.   He looks at me like I’m completely stupid and says, “I’m not selling anything.” And then kept on with his speech about selling me something.  I said, “You are totally selling something and thanks for stopping by, but I’m not interested.”  He continues, like I hadn’t said a word.  The dogs are just ramming their bodies into the door at this point. Now I’m mad.  “I’M NOT INTERESTED.”  Then he says, “Oh, is this a bad time?  Can I come back another day?”  At this point I laugh, but sort of a maniacal laugh.  “I’m not interested.”  He looks at me again like I’m the stupidest stupid stupor person ever.  I imagine myself poking his dumbass eyes out. He says, “Well, while I’ve got you here let me tell you about…”  I’m floored.  Dogs are still going crazy.  Tiffany is definitely awake by now.  I say, “have a nice day.”  He looks pissed at me.  PISSED. AT. ME.!? I get that he has a job to do, but not interested is pretty easy to understand.  I crack the door to squeeze back in, barking gets louder and paws and dog heads are trying to squeeze out and the guy is still standing on the porch looking at me.  I make it back inside.  I see his head look through the diamond shaped window in my front door.  I stick my raised middle finger up to the glass.  He finally walks off in a huff. 

This is just a warning.  Watch out.  The telemarketers are coming.