Yesterday, the dogs did their someone’s out front bark (casual woofs), followed by their someone’s in our yard bark (the barking equivalent of a car alarm) and I got excited with them. Someone in the yard might mean the UPS driver is cautiously maneuvering his way through the mine field that is our front yard. The children all get excited when the mail comes and fight over who will retrieve it from the mailman. I know that the mailman only brings bad things. Good stuff comes in boxes from package delivery services. I was sorely disappointed that it was just a pamphlet pusher. Our neighborhood has an unusually high number of people home in the daytime and lacks a cut-through that would encourage high speed cars, so the pamphlet people love to visit us. Our pamphlet people come in all varieties. Some of them want you to buy something. Others want you to sign a clipboard. There are even some who want you to join their club. The conversations are all pretty much the same.
Pamphleteer: “Hello! My name is ___ and I’d like to give you this pamphlet about ___.”
Me: “No thank you.”
Pamphleteer: “It’s okay, once won’t hurt.”
Me: “Sorry, we’re paperless.”
Pamphleteer: “I just have to hand out seven in the next hour and my wish will come true.”
Me: “No. I don’t think so.”
Pamphleteer: “I haven’t eaten for three days and . . . ”
Pamphleteer: “I’m working my way through school and . . . ”
Me: “Doug, the pamphlet person won’t go away!”
Pamphleteer: “I get paid by the pamphlet and . . . ”
Doug: “Name drop whoever we know that uses the same pamphlet.”
Me: “Our good friend ___ has already given us one of these.”
Pamphleteer: “Oh, good. Have a nice day.”
I like it better when Doug answers the door.