None of Your Business

“You want to be someplace that people want, you really do. We don’t want to be places that we’re not wanted. We simply don’t.”

-       Donald Rumsfeld

Two young gentlemen just came to my door in the pouring rain. They were wearing unfortunate acid green rain slickers designed to bring their presence to the attention of drivers with their wipers on faster-faster-I-can’t-see before they were struck from behind at the stupidly slow top speed of 30 mph permitted in this state on two lane roads with a double stripe down the middle. Nonsequiturly, the speed limit on my old one lane sidewalk-less residential street was 35 mph, these guys were highly visible on my porch where their jackets merely seemed to give of a radioactive glow in the monochrome landscape. 

One man had his sinister hand poised over an ominous clipboard. Too late I noticed matching corporate logos on their rain slickers. I hate this front door with a window that lets people see that you’re home when you peek to see who is at your door.

Clipboard Guy:  Hi, we’re from (unintelligible to hearing impaired people on porches when speech is drowned out by surrounding downpour) and we’ve just installed fiber optic cables somewhere nearby.

WISIMH:  Ok, I reserve the right to not so much use poetic license when quoting you on my blog later as to simply write the way I fill in blanks on most of what I hear these days.

Me: That must suck in this rain.

CG: (As his companion, standing out of his sightline, nods vigorously) well, we’re talking to your neighbors about giving you – finally – an option for your cable service. Do you have Comcast?

Me: Yes.

CG: And you have cable TV with On Demand?

Me: Yes.

CG: (Nodding and noting stuff on his clipboard.) And high speed Internet?

WISIMH: And vaporized medicinal marijuana, which I was just now availing myself of. But I doubt you have a box for that on the clipboard you are deliberately holding so I can’t see what you’re writing. Not to be more paranoid than usual at such times, but are you writing that it looks like I’m wearing a worn out man’s tee shirt and slippers and I clearly didn’t shower after gymming.

CG: And do you use the internet for business or personal use?

Me:  Yes.

CG: Um, and do you pay about $185 per month?

Me: I’m not comfortable providing any more information. What’s up?

WISIMH:  I would however, be happy to tell you that Bob across the street has always been quiet and kept to himself in case you were going to ask me why I thought he killed people who knocked on his door soliciting something and then buried them in his backyard. He always seemed so nice although I’ve only lived here for a short while.

CG: We’re just trying to make a living in the pouring rain here ya daft old woman.

Me: I’m sorry, what?

CG: We’re just seeing if you might be interested in saving some money now that you have a choice for Internet and shit.

WISIMY: Nah, I’m totally loaded. You wouldn’t imagine what I save by doing my wash and showering in the fucking rain. (Insert maniacal laugh).

Me:  Thanks anyway, but I’m not interested today. Unless you’d like to hear more about Bob.

CG:  WTF? Ok, thanks for your time. Have a good…

...As I closed the door, I reflected that when you live in a neighborhood where the houses are so close together, you’re more likely to get visited by solicitors than I was when my house was relatively isolated and far uphill from the street. The only people who used to knock on my door were people inspired by Jesus to share the good news. They never wore lime green corporate raingear either.