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I so need a trapdoor.
For some reason, our little barrio has seen a huge upswing in door-to-door peddlers. Maybe the Immigration crackdown is forcing El Indocumentado out of their jobs. But now almost nightly I have to deal with people speaking no English trying to sell me everything from tamales to pirate videos. When I'm freaking bushed from work, I really dislike getting up to answer the door.
But that's not why I'm pissed, I'm pissed because pretty much every one of these pests knocks on the door constantly until i open it.
*knock*knock*knock*knock*knock*knock*knock*knock*knock*knock*knock*knock*knock*knock*knock*knock*knock*knock*knock*knock*knock*knock*knock*knock*knock*knock*knock*knock*knock*knock*knock*knock*knock*knock*knock*knock*knock*knock*knock*knock*
It drives me nuts. I have never been anywhere where this is considered polite, or even marginally tolerable behavior. Hell, if I were still training new drivers at SuperShuttle, I'd seriously consider blackballing someone who did this.
So now, very tired, and in the middle of a rather extensive reply in Usenet, I get the machine-gun knocking. I leap up, open the door, and lay into the Central American immigrant standing there. I tell her never to come to our door again. ¡No mas!
I need to get "No Solicitor" signs in English and Spanish. Or a trapdoor.
iTunes for the win.
But that's not why I'm pissed, I'm pissed because pretty much every one of these pests knocks on the door constantly until i open it.
*knock*knock*knock*knock*knock*knock*knock*knock*knock*knock*knock*knock*knock*knock*knock*knock*knock*knock*knock*knock*knock*knock*knock*knock*knock*knock*knock*knock*knock*knock*knock*knock*knock*knock*knock*knock*knock*knock*knock*knock*
It drives me nuts. I have never been anywhere where this is considered polite, or even marginally tolerable behavior. Hell, if I were still training new drivers at SuperShuttle, I'd seriously consider blackballing someone who did this.
So now, very tired, and in the middle of a rather extensive reply in Usenet, I get the machine-gun knocking. I leap up, open the door, and lay into the Central American immigrant standing there. I tell her never to come to our door again. ¡No mas!
I need to get "No Solicitor" signs in English and Spanish. Or a trapdoor.
iTunes for the win.
no subject
Not that I've ever done such a thing, of course.
I fondly remember the day I worked front reception armed. THe salescritters and solicitors . . . well, when I invited them to stay for a cup of coffee and that I had an appointment in just a few minutes that I'd have to focus on, they immediately discovered FTL just long enough to warp out of my quadrant. Realizing (correctly) that I wanted bullet-magnets for said confrontation.