It’s Saturday morning. The smell of Hazelnut decaf and dry scrambled eggs drifts out of a cracked window and into the warm morning. A breeze brings in the scent of evaporating dew drops and grass clippings. One of my more industrious neighbors has his lawn halfway mowed already. Way to go, Ben. Early bird gets it.
I’m washing the last pan at the sink when I see an unfamiliar face bobbing towards my house. Oh crap. He’s got a satchel. Oh crap. And a clipboard. Damn it. And a shirt with a logo. No, no. And a lanyard. Too late to close the blinds and duck. He sees me through the open blinds. I reluctantly decided it’s a good idea to put my shirt back on.
He knocks. I open the door. He is from Anderson Doors. He is a door-to-door door salesman. He asks me if I’m in the market for a front door. I look at him. Then I look at my front door.
I think I’m good.
It must be frustrating for him to knock on a potential customer’s door, only to realize once the echo reaches his ears, that their needs are met already.