The Death of a Salesman

That is a fond wish, not the name of a play.

This evening, I experienced a perfect storm of solicitation. I was bothered not once, not twice, but thrice by the scum of the earth, the only form of life lower then your average member of Hezbollah, the unsolicited sales person.

Within five minutes I got a sales call from one company on my cell phone, another on my land line, and finally a live salesman (actually two of them) on my front door.

The first was selling a political cause, the second was pimping for a fake charity, and the third (actually a team of two) were selling some kind of magazine scam subscription service. With the phone ones there's not much to do except hang up loudly after asking (probably futilely) to get on the do not call list. However, the live folks had the misfortune to be peddling their wares in a town where door-to-door pond scum are required to have a city license, which these people of course didn't have. So we called the cops on them. They quickly left, and the police probably didn't do anything. But it was nice to try.