dys·func·tion /dɪsˈfʌŋkʃən/ [dis-fuhngk-shuhn]–noun
1. Medicine/Medical . malfunctioning, as of an organ or structure of the body. 2. any malfunctioning part or element: the dysfunctions of the country's economy. 3. Sociology . a consequence of a social practice or behavior pattern that undermines the stability of a social system.

Monday, February 7, 2011

Inappropriate Soliciting

so·lic·it

[suh-lis-it]
–verb (used with object)

1. to seek for (something) by entreaty, earnest or respectful request, formal application, etc.: He solicited aid from the minister.

2. to entreat or petition (someone or some agency): to solicit the committee for funds.

3. to seek to influence or incite to action, especially unlawful or wrong action.

4. to offer to have sex with in exchange for money.

–verb (used without object)

5. to make a petition or request, as for something desired.

6. to solicit orders or trade, as for a business: No soliciting allowed in this building.

7. to offer to have sex with someone in exchange for money.


I live in the Ghetto.

G.H.E.T.T.O.

The implication being that my neighbours and I have little to no money.

The Jehovah's Witnesses made sense.

They've come by twice now, asking about my religious groundings; faith in God; reliance upon money for happiness - and each time I have been polite, taken their pamphlets, and gone back inside as quickly as humanly possible.



Yesterday a young man knocked on my door. When I opened the door he tried to come in.

O_o


I blocked the entrance with my body and the door, and tried to make it as obvious as possible that he was not allowed to enter.

Then he began soliciting.

This young man has had a very unfortunate (and very famous) childhood, and he is trying to raise money for an organization that he believes helped him through it.


Fine.


I don't mind that so much, but when he tries repeatedly to come in to my house uninvited, summarizes his entire life story, makes reference to 'falling off the wagon' recently, and then explains how his brother has been stabbed recently which is leading him to wanting to have the perpetrator 'taken care of' but unfortunately he has to leave this up to the law...

Well it's frightening.

He was pretty insistent about a donation too, so I gave him one.

Oh, I can imagine the uproar now. Why? Why would I give him the donation? Then he gets what he wanted and he may come back.

Why? Because it made him leave.

He was truly planning on not leaving without it.

And if I didn't donate, well, my paranoia says he knows where I live.... and maybe I would get 'taken care of'.

Ten dollars seemed a lot safer of an option.

My plan is to not open the door anymore.




Ever.




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I have been spending a lot of time thinking about my upcoming 100th post. The voices in my head have made this into a big deal, and I have been working on a post 'A Taste of Delusion' that I was planning on using for the big one-double-zero that talks about my mother.
Now, I'm not so sure. Am I making too big of a deal about this? Should I post a small "Congratulations To Me" post instead? Or something humorous instead of the current darker one? Argh!

6 comments:

Anonymous said...

Sounds like you should have followed up the making him go away with calling the cops, I mean they must be familiar with your part of town and thus it wouldn't have been out of the way for them :P

In serious though that does seem pretty crazy that someone would actually attempt to just walk into someone's house uninvited.

jedi starrunner said...

Gotta love when people try to enter uninvited. A few summers ago the Jehovah's Witnesses came to my parents' house. I was home alone, and I answered the door. They started telling me how I need to find God and I'm living in darkness and blah blah blah... They tried to invite themselves into my house and they tried to leave me with their literature. After countless 'no, thank you's, 'I'm not interested's and 'I have to get going's, I *politely* informed them that my house was a house of the Devil, I openly worship Satan and if they left a Bible for me, I'd burn it.

Not that I have no respect for their religion, I have no respect for them so blatantly disrespecting me. If I tell you I'm not interested, and you persist, I WILL become irate and vilgar. Just saying. Irritating.

Never had someone like your crazy dude though. Odd. I hope you and the fam are still alive :S


I vote for the mom post. I love learning about your family/life... especially if it involves onion allergies.

ironman1987 said...

$10 is a great price for safety, I'd say. And not openning the door sounds like an even better idea ;)

ironman1987 said...

Oh, and I vote for a post on Mom. I think that will be interesting.

One Girl's Story said...

That had to be a very uncomfortable situation! I hope you don't have to see him again.

To stop the J. Witnesses from coming by, I simply told them that I was Pagan the last time they were there.

I am actually agostic, my hubby is die hard baptist, so he did not see the humor in my solution to the J. Witnesses stopping by, but hey, it worked! And I really hope that God's sense of humor is not lacking to the point that this would land me in hell. :)

dys·func·tion said...

@Anonymous: I considered calling the cops after, but my paranoia said that knowing my luck I was the only house he had hit up that day, and that he would know it was me calling them. Then he'd come back...

@jedi starrunner: I completely agree (less with the Devil worshipping...) but I have no problem with their religion. I really don't like to have people force their religions on me. It makes me very uncomfortable and irritable. Obviously I'm not going to convert...

@ironman1987: I had post-dated that $10 cheque and the lovely people at my back cashed it anyways. I almost didn't open the door for my landlord a couple of days ago because I didn't remember he was coming at some point that day!

@One Girl's Story: I would be afraid that if I told them I was Pagan that they would be even more invested in saving my soul. Maybe they would come in bushels and pray for me...

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