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Soliciting City.

April 6, 2009

I’m not exaggerating when I tell you that in the last week I’ve had roughly five people solicit my house for various services. While that may not be extraordinary in another neighborhood it is unheard of here where my *No Soliciting* sign and adjacent gate generally let people know ahead of time that I’m not interested. Not that I’m being bitchy… I just usually know that I won’t be interested in the vacuum that doubles as a jump rope or the gajillion magazine subscriptions I’ll never read. But if you’re selling girl scout cookies…

Seriously, there’s been a marked increase in the number of house calls I’ve received. As well, the cast of characters are not the usual door-to-door salesman meets Harry Krishna type. Several days ago I answered the door only to come face to face with an impeccably dressed gentleman in his early 50’s who, after getting over the initial shock of finding me in my pajamas at 2PM, proceeded to launch into a diatribe about various investment options. Before I could let the poor man know about my illicit affair with Charles Schwabb he flashed his card, handed me a pamphlet and scurried off to the next house. Glancing at his card I took note of his name and it was a good thing that I did as two days later I received a thank you note from said gentleman thanking me for my time. This wasn’t your random proselytizing freak but clearly a man who believes that, in this dire economy, desperate times call for desperate measures.

And you know what? I respect that.

But that’s besides the point.

Fact is I’m finding more and more individuals going back to basics and soliciting themselves and their services door-to-door as waiting for the phone to ring isn’t cutting it any longer. Just in the last few days I’ve had investment man, a representative from the American Lung Cancer Association, Merry Maids, Various Handymen and two arborists stop by and either ask for donations or offer services. While I don’t like the blatant disregard for my *No Soliciting* sign I empathize with their plight of needing to make ends meet. Hence, I don’t chew off their head and ask if English is their first language when I answer the door and realize there’s no Girl Scout cookies in sight.

It’s definitely a sign of the times. Maybe I should change my sign to *Good Luck*

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