I have a confession to make. I'm one of those people who has trouble saying no to the the salesmen that show up at my front door. I take it personally. I know that by rejecting what they are selling, I'm not really rejecting the person, it just feels that way. And the more downcast they look, the easier of a sell I am. Once I bought a vacuum. And then had Chris return it the next day (after thoroughly vacuuming the house). I bought cleaner from a man who put some in his mouth to show how harmless it was. I've signed all kinds of petitions and buy nearly every cookie that is peddled to my house. I usually start out trying kindly to refuse, but I always waffle after a quick peak at their clipboard reveals how few sales they have. I recently had a call from a man who asked if I really wanted to have my roof inspected for hail damage, again, since he had just been up there the last time their salesman went through the area, and he was thinking it probably hadn't changed that much. I sheepishly told him that of course he didn't have to climb up there again, I didn't really want it inspected at all. Tonight I bought the Denver Post, again. In my defense, I said no about 5 different ways. But each time, he looked a little more disheartened. He was wearing ill fitting slacks and a oversized shirt. Like he was trying to dress nicely, but lacked the proper funds to do it well. And he was standing on the front stoop like he had been doing this all day and now the sun was going down and he had little to show for it. I'm not sure which one of us was going to cry first if I said no one more time. I didn't really help that after I shooed him away, Aidan was standing at my elbow saying, oh that poor man, you should have bought something from him. I kid you not, I sent Aidan running after him to tell him that I changed my mind. So yeah, I bought the newspaper, gave him some bug spray and would have sent him along with some cookies if we hadn't already eaten them all. Fortunately, our lawn needs to be mowed so Aidan can pay me back in hard labor for his part in our paper purchase.
The moral of the story is that if you come to my door, I'm going to hide.