I had just pulled up from picking up the kids from daycare.  I was giving Buddy his bottle and making dinner for BG when I faintly heard the doorbell ring. 

But before I could make the connection, I heard BG say, "Momma, there's a man at the door."

There's something about a total stranger calling that drives me batty.  But when my three-year-old gets caught in the midst of it, my blood starts boiling.  Because I've read too many profiler books and I've seen too many movies.  For that reason, I always lock the door as soon as we get home, so I knew she hadn't actually opened the door and let him in (we have a transom window).

So, here I am, totally pissed at this guy for invading my privacy, for having involved my daughter and therefore, making it impossible for me to ignore the door; and for trying to sell me something that I probably don't need!  Where is the dog when you need him!? 

I open the door and I'm ready to spit fire, HIH-SSSSSSSS!

But, Tom has a sixth sense.  He knows he's disturbing my peace and quiet, my time with my kids, my space.  He stands at a distance, on the grass instead of the step, and disarmingly proffers, "Do you like seafood?  Do you eat steak?"

I stand there at the door, speechless and puzzled.

 WHAT?! 

What the hell kind of question is that?!  Who the hell is this guy?!!

It works.  Just like that, my anger is gone; replaced by intrigue.

He's quirky.  He acts twelve but he's probably in his early thirties.  He's well groomed.  He starts telling me that he has tons of meat, chicken and seafood in his truck.  That he just delivered all the pork he had so he can't give me any of that but he has great deals on meat.  He has to empty out his truck tonight; it all must be sold.  He tells me about his company and how great it is, blah, blah, blah...

I must still look skeptical because he doesn't stop talking.  I can see the cogs turning in his head.  He's thinking AND talking a hundred miles an hour.  He's gauging me, figuring me out.  He starts telling me about his meat products.  Then, like a man ten years his junior, he sprints to his truck, which is illegally parked behind mine, and brings back boxes of steak and chicken.  He starts pulling them out and showing me how they're vacuum sealed.  How they have a twelve month guarantee.  He says that unlike buying a car or something else, we can always use food, so this is a no-brainer.  Because he's going to give me a great deal!  He talks for a solid three minutes, all the while getting closer to me.

At some point, he casually introduces himself to me, as if we were mixing at a cocktail party.  He's really close now, almost at my door.  His name is Tom and he is a good salesman!  He's making it personal.

Finally, he tells me that I can have this entire box of meat (about 50 pieces) for only 159 dollars!

There must be a telltale sign that people make when "they're sold."  He sees it and it excites him.  He starts telling me that he'll throw in a free box of fish because he likes me.  He's so close he can taste it!  Now all he needs is my credit card!

He's slowly reeling me in.  He's so close now I can reach out and touch him.  I am like a fish, caught in his hook, being yanked out of the water!  He's making eye contact, he's got me in a trance!  Right then, Tom could have sold me the grass on my own lawn and I would have bought it.


The sound of plastic hitting hardwood breaks the spell.  I look away.  I leave Tom on the front step.  Buddy, now finished with his milk, has chucked his bottle across the room as is his routine.  I come back with Buddy in my arms and Tom seems different. 

Buddy looks at Tom.  He starts making faces at the man who is trying desperately to close this sale.  Tom is talking faster than ever now, as if on speed.  He's using strong body language.  He has meat spread across my front porch.  He's showing me the free fish.   He's sweating. 

Buddy utters a cry; an ancient, tribal cry.  The same cry he makes when he hears something that scares him (motorcycles, the vacuum, a loud fan).  And that's when I realize that Buddy has just saved me.  I am free.

I see Tom now from a different point of view; as if seeing him for the first time.  And I feel sorry for him.  I put myself in his shoes.  He's just trying to make a living.  He's trying to survive in the world, to earn his bread and butter.

But I have already come to my senses.  We don't eat that much meat in this house.  Period.  It seems like a waste to buy so much.

So, I offer the next best thing; the next door neighbor.  She has twins in high school.  They certainly can use all that meat, I tell him.  They're still growing.  I volunteer my lame excuses.  I consider telling him that I'm a vegan.  Instead, I tell him that if he's ever in the area again, that he should come back.  Who knows, I may change my mind.  But the disappointment is clear on his face.  Tom packs up his meat and wanders back to his truck, disillusioned.

Poor Tom.  I hope he was able to make a sale next door.  He's only trying to earn a living after all, just like the rest of us.