Why do Jehovah's Witnesses bring out the worst in me? They're only doing what they think is best.
I'm not good with any form of un-asked-for solicitation, be it door-to-door, phone, e-mail, blog comment, junk mail, or any other form of spam. I don't like being rude, but I've found that a quick, "No, thank you; I'm not interested," followed immediately by hanging up the phone or closing the door, to be the solution that wastes the least amount of time—not only mine, but theirs. Why let them go on and on when I know I'm not going to give in to whatever they're selling? I did know someone who would, on occasion, invite them in, and let them go on and on, thinking they were about to make a sale, until the whole evening was used up. He figured he was saving several dozen other folks from having their evenings interrupted, and he found it somewhat amusing. (Reality TV hadn't been invented yet.) But that's not me.
When it comes to JWs, I also know people who will invite them in, serve them coffee, and spend the evening preaching the gospel to them. I admire those who can do that, but it's definitely not me.
Porter, having been a door-to-door salesman himself, is much more understanding and will often take a few minutes to answer questions and ask some of his own. He still doesn't buy anything—unless it's Girl Scouts selling cookies or Lake Brantley band members selling apples; even I am happy to welcome that kind of solicitor with a smile and a sale—and if anything has come from a discussion with a Jehovah's Witness, we won't know it till Heaven. But at least he's friendly.
I, on the other hand, get Really. Ticked. Off. Especially on a Saturday, when I have a thousand more pleasant things to do, like scrubbing the kitchen floor. On my hands and knees. With a toothbrush. Or defrosting the freezer, which is why the garage door was open. I opened the door from the house to find two JWs in the garage, keeping Porter from his work of replacing our kitchen light fixtures. He was gracious, and polite, engaging them in conversation.
Me? I panicked, turning tail immediately and skedaddling back into the house, with an inarticulate growl and an "if looks could kill" expression.
Sigh. Do we learn humility from humiliation? I hope so.
