Twice now, the doorbell has rung in the middle of the day, and it’s some kid who, for some reason, is “running around the neightborhood, to talk to 100 friendly people.” I know I should just ignore it, but I’m usually sitting at my desk, next to the window, which is right next to the door. If the wall weren’t there, I could reach out and slap someone standing on the porch. Even though the blinds are drawn, I have this feeling that they know I’m right there… I can’t peek through the blinds to see who it is, either, because it’s right at eye level. They’d totally see me.
I feel forced to get up to see who’s at the door, and it’s some high school kid, oozing young-republican from every pore, who wants to talk to someone friendly, and I find that I can’t shut the door fast enough. LIterally. Something about the whole situation makes me incredibly nervous. Flustered. Not scared, like there’s danger, but just… the whole thing is wrong, and at that moment I couldn’t think of anything to say. I think I said, “No, thank you,” and he gave me a puzzled look, and a “What?” This makes a certain sense, since he didn’t seem to be selling anything, but what was going through my head were questions about why he was at my door, and who sent him.
It had to be a church group, or some kind of right-wing over-achievers club filled with kids with 3.9 GPAs and two safety schools. An after-school activity group where the outgoing, socially comfortable people I resent so much apparently train by going door to door.
“I don’t really have time,” I mumbled.
“Why not?” he asks.
“I… I have to go to bed,” I stuttered, while these conjectures about this guy’s origins continued to swarm through my head and my bitterness rose. Who was this guy? Why was I the nervous one? What gave him the right to intrude on my space and invade my privacy? How dare he be comfortable doing that?! And now I’m suddenly in the position where I have to try to explain to this interloper that I work graveyard and this is my sleepy time?! I don’t think so!!
“I’m not interested,” I told him as I closed the door, “I don’t care.” Just before it shut all the way I heard him give a condescending “Wow.”
I understand where he’s coming from, though. All he saw was a weird, nervous little guy who was rude to him for no reason. What I saw was a clean-cut. athletic, soon-to-be-fratboy-type who would never understand the depth of insecurity I was experiencing.