The Sign Says "No Soliciting"

Yeah, yeah, it’s been forever since I last blogged, so I don’t blame you if you hate me and never want to read another word I’ve written. But, just in case you do, I have to share my latest encounter with the bizarre.

My doorbell rang and I wasn’t expecting anybody. In this day and age, with cell phones, texts, email, Facebook, etc., it is rare that someone will simply show-up on your doorstep unless they want to sell you something or kill you. Since I was pretty sure I hadn’t ticked anybody off badly enough to warrant a killing, I assumed the rather normal-looking man was a solicitor. (Though, it should be pointed out, that there is a nice, little wooden sign posted at the entrance to the neighborhood that says, “No Soliciting.” Unless, of course, you are soliciting cookies or candy. Then I’ll let you get away with it.)

I opened the door and the man looked at me quizzically and asked, “Do you remember me? Have you lived here for more than six years or so? Because I have cleaned this house before. So, if you have lived here for more than six years, then you’ve met me before.”

“Um...what?”

He then pointed to my next-door neighbor’s house and asked, “Didn’t that lady have cancer? Or she has cancer or something?”

“Uh...not that I am aware of.”

To further prove that he had, indeed, cleaned my house before, he then pointed to a house down the street and said, “And that guy had a big boat, didn’t he? Were you living here when he parked his big boat on the right-hand side of the house?”

“Er...I have never seen a boat there.” Then thinking perhaps the poor man was either lost or loony, I asked, “Are you sure you are in the right neighborhood?”

He laughed at that, but then proceeded to tell me that he was an exterior house cleaner and could pressure wash my entire house, from the gutter to the ground, and make it look like new. He started pointing out the black, moldy stuff on the door jamb and other areas where foreign matter was growing on my stucco. Quite frankly, I had never even noticed any of that. So then I got all paranoid thinking that everyone who has come to my home has shuddered inwardly at the unsightly fungus as they crossed over my threshold. And just what is that stuff, anyway?

But he ripped my attention back to him by saying, “Just so you don’t think I’m bull-shitting you, here are the names of your neighbors whose houses I’m doing.”

Excuse me?! Did he just use profanity while trying to sell me his services? I don’t appreciate that kind of language! What the hell?!

Okay, fine, so maybe I do, but not from some stranger who randomly shows up on my doorstep and starts taking walks down memory lane through my neighborhood.

He whipped out his iPad and touched the screen to wake it up. It came to life and there was a webpage with a video on it. It wasn’t playing, it was just the screen capture with that faint triangle on it that lets you know it is a video and you should play it. Creepy Solicitor pointed to the video and asked, “Oh, have you seen this?”

I was not sure what it was a video of, and even more not sure of what it might have to do with his convincing me he wasn’t a bull-shitter. He continued without waiting for a response from me, however, by saying, “The Russians blew up a pirate ship -- with the pirates still on it! They captured the boat, chained the pirates to the deck and blew the shit up!”

Inside my head, I was screaming, “What in the name of all that is holy is going on here?! Am I being punked or something?”

Outwardly, I said, “Um...what?”

He said, “Yeah, you’ll never hear about stuff like that on the news, but it happens. Today everyone is so politically correct, you know? Everyone is always looking at us and blaming us for doing things, but the Russians, they do that kind of thing all the time!”

Ah, to be so free from world public opinion like the Russians. Wouldn’t that be swell?

He went back to his iPad, closed the deadly-Russian-pirate-killing video, and pulled up another screen. He then turned it so I could read it better. It was a list of about five or six people who were supposedly hiring Creepy Solicitor to clean their homes -- complete with names, addresses, telephone numbers and how much money they were being charged.

He asked, “Do you know any of these people?”

I didn’t, but then, again, my next-door neighbor is apparently dying of cancer and I had no idea about that either.

“See that house over that way -- you gotta lean over -- see it? The one with the grey chimney? I’m cleaning her house today. What’s her name? Karen? Carol? Something like that.”

“I don’t know her either.” Boy, I really need to get out and meet my neighbors.

Creepy Solicitor went back into his sales pitch and talked about cleaning the windows and how everything would look like new. Then he started telling me about how he could clean the driveway, walkway and the back deck. He appeared to be winding down his spiel, for which I was grateful.

But then he upped the creep factor on me again by saying, “If I remember correctly, you have a really huge back deck, right? Do you mind if I walk back there and take a look to make sure it’s what I remember?”

“Well, um, there are dogs back there.” I realized I wasn't being very articulate, but this guy was throwing me off my game with his whack-a-dooness.

“That’s okay, I’ll just look over the fence. I’ll be right back.”

As I stood alone in my doorway, I began to think it wasn’t so wise to allow some stranger to wander around my backyard. But, then again, he was no stranger -- he knew more people in my neighborhood than I did. Plus, he had handed me a really nice, laminated doorhanger with his company name and number on it. If he was a rapist, he sure did spend a lot of money on his printed props.

He returned from his recon mission and announced that, yep, the back deck was just like he remembered and he could clean the deck, around the pool, the driveway, the walkway and the sidewalk in front of the house all for the low-low price of $175. The house and windows would be $275. And, here’s the best part, he could do it as early as tomorrow. Oh, hosanna!

I really hated to turn him down right then and there, especially since he had been so enthusiastic in his pitch. Oh, and warned me about the free-wheeling Russians who so brazenly practice their own sense of vigilante justice. But, I really wasn’t in the mood to spend nearly 400 of my Christmas-shopping dollars on cleaning the outside of my house -- which I hardly ever see anyway.

So, I used the standard “I’m just a girl and I don’t make decisions about money and I’ll have to check with my big, strong husband who has a much better handle on such confusing things.” Yeah, I can be really anti-feminist movement when it suits me.

I told him we would discuss it and give him a call if we decided we were in need of his services. He then thanked me and went on his way.

He’s probably just up the street right now asking that person if they know the lady with the huge back deck and warning them about the Russians.

See? Now wasn’t that worth the wait?