Yesterday, I was minding my own business at my computer when the doorbell rang.  When I lived in the United States and people rang my bell unexpectedly, I usually didn’t answer it.  Here in Germany, I answer because sometimes it’s my landlords or someone coming by on business.  Like, for instance, a couple of weeks ago, the chimney sweep came by.  What I miss about our old house in Germany was that there was a window by the door that wasn’t covered in decorative 70s era glass.  You could look out and see who was calling.  Here, we have a peephole.  I should probably use it more often.

Anyway, the bell rang.  I hustled the dogs into the downstairs “apartment”.  I opened the door and it was an older gentleman who ignored our “Keine Werbung” (no advertising) sign left by people who lived here before us.  He was holding a catalog and a roster.  He launched into a rapid fire German spiel.  I stopped him and said I didn’t understand.  He switched to decent English and said he was representing a company that sells frozen foods.  He wanted my phone number so “some girl” could call me for my order.  He proffered a catalog, which I initially took.

I told him, truthfully, that we don’t have a house phone.  He wanted my cell number.  I do have one of those, but I haven’t yet memorized the number.  Really, I haven’t.  No one ever calls me and I don’t call myself.  So I don’t know it off the top of my head.  So I told him I didn’t know the number.  But I said I’d take a look at the catalog because, honestly, we might have been interested.  In fact, I just ordered a box from the German version of Hello Fresh! the other day.

Well, my uninvited visitor’s demeanor immediately changed from friendly and enthused to decidedly pissy.  He wanted the catalog back.  I gave it to him and closed the door, feeling bewildered.  I mean, does he not have enough catalogs?  Does he only give them to people who give him a phone number?  Seems like a stupid way of doing business, because if I had liked what I saw, I very well may have ordered.  I just prefer to call companies myself rather than being ambushed in my home and having my phone number demanded of me.  Next time, I won’t even listen to the spiel.

Then this morning, around 11:00 or so, the bell rang again.  Right now, it’s 2:33pm and I’m still not dressed.  Fortunately, my husband is dressed and home.  He answered the door.  It was the Jehovah’s Witnesses.  We are very familiar with them, of course.  We get a visit from them every time we move.  I swear, I even got a visit from them in 1996, when I lived in Armenia.  They are everywhere.

I was actually a little worried that it might have been a neighbor coming over to complain because Bill took the dogs out in the wee hours of the morning for a pee and they got on a scent and started barking up a storm.  But no, it was someone peddling religion.  Bill is a lot nicer than I am.  He listened to the lady, who had a cute little daughter in tow, and took her card.  Of course, he probably wasn’t thinking about how that child was being taught that people like us are going to be doomed to hell for not being JWs… but on the other hand, most JWs are also doomed because only 144,000 will be saved in the remnant and most of them have already died.

I really need to quit answering the door.  On the other hand, sometimes unexpected visitors give me something to write about.  If the Mormons come, things might get more interesting.

I wish people would call before they come calling.  Sometimes, they catch me at very inopportune times.