Once a year as a child, I was forced to sell candybars to pay for Y camp. This was a time I dreaded like no other. Even as an innocent little kid, I felt guilty for knocking on doors and disturbing people. Apparently I'm the only one with such feelings. The trend these days seems to be for nonprofits to hire armies of college kids to knock on doors and ask for money. It wouldn't be so bad if I had money to shell out or if I could hide in my house a little bit better. But every night after work, I open the front door to let in some fresh air and natural light. This means that every Joe Schmo who comes by with his clipboard can see me plain as day, making it impossible not to answer the door. The spiel always starts the same.
"How do you feel about aliens polluting our drinking water?"
Well, I feel bad obviously.
"What we want to do is humanely remove the aliens from our community and replace the aliens' homes with naturalized wildflower gardens!"
Well, that sounds more pleasant.
"So, our top donors give $125."
My jaw drops.
"But you could donate $75 or even $50!"
Again, jaw drops.
After I refuse three times, they offer up the payment plan option with my credit card (seriously!). I refuse again, and finally, beaten down, they walk away. Tonight, I saw the polo shirt-wearing guys when they were still across the street, so I shut the door and turned off the light. I pretended not to hear the doorbell.
p.s. I'm not a bad person, really.
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1 comment:
You need a "no soliciting" sign. :-)
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