Today I was upstairs on the phone when the doorbell rang. I generally don't answer because it's almost always somebody soliciting my support for some organization. If you want to see me, you'd better call first. My wife, on the other hand, answers the door and invariably gets sucked into whatever is being offered. So when she's home, the doorbell is usually followed by her asking me to write a check to the National Buttscratcher's Association or something.
Since she wasn't home, I ignored the doorbell and our frantically barking dog. Then the doorbell rang again. Ugh. Maybe it was someone wanting to see my more sociable wife. I slowly descended the stairs and walked over to the door. I looked out, saw the top of an unfamiliar person's head, and walked away.
The doorbell rang again. A word of warning... if you ring my doorbell three times, you'd better be on fire because I'm liable to throw a bucket of water on you. Finally, I answer the door. So who was so desperate to meet me today? It was some political stooge asking whether I was going to vote for Alderman Gene Schulter in the upcoming election.
"I don't even know who's running against him," I said.
"Uh, neither do I," Mr. Stooge replied. Gee, that was helpful. Actually, this guy was pretty useless -- he didn't even have any campaign literature to pass out, just a clipboard where he was recording answers. "Are you going to vote for Gene Schulter?"
"I don't know. I guess so." When a guy comes around with a clipboard representing the alderman, you might as well tell him what he wants to hear. Otherwise, guess who moves to the back of the line when requesting city services? The proper response would have been, "Not if he's going to send people to my house to harrass me on a Saturday afternoon by ringing my freaking doorbell three times!"
So today's co-bastards are the putz with the itchy bell-ringing finger and Alderman Schulter for sending him to my neighborhood in the first place.