…in which Jehovah’s Witnesses and cold calling companies conspire to turn me into a crazed agoraphobic recluse
My phone phobia is well documented. I hate phones.
Top of my phone hates at the moment are cold calling companies trying to bam me up by spamming me up with a whole lot of phooey.
There was beloved old “Kevin” from “Microsoft”; there was a call from Rapid Legal under the umbrella of the “Ministry of Justice”; there was some random insurance vaguery…
As Lady Gaga said “Stop callin’, stop callin’”.
So, between spam calls this morning, I happened to look out of my window and saw four people standing in a wee cosy huddle.
The demographic was, I dunno, unlikely? They looked like a politically correct reprise of Mystery Incorporated or something.
Most striking was a young woman with beautiful and very long and very shiny ginger hair. There was then a young and very good looking black chap with a very cool hat. There was a young, coolly bespectacled, very trendy looking young man. Finally there was an older woman with blonde hair, very tidily done.
Their clothes were not work clothes – too informal – but they were anything but casual. They were that genre of clothes that I figure no one actually wears – quality and tasteful. They each had a big bag – but like tasteful versions each one suited to their own outfit.
They were gesticulating around the street in a strategic manner and then proceeded to go door to door in twos.
I then began to turn into the Hyde to my Jekyll and the Hulk to my svelte self.
Here I am minding my own business, tidying my own house and suddenly I am forced into an involuntary loop of embarrassment, unwillingness and resentment.
Do I open the door, accept THE WATCHTOWER and close the door? Do I give them benefit of my fast array of bible trivia? Do I tell them its so sad that they are trapped in a sect that they would find hard to leave based on a version of the scripture that their founder clearly messed with to suit his own theology? Do I invite them in, as I once did, only to have one of them dip into a diabetic hypo? Do I unplug my doorbell and hide in the kitchen until they have gone past?
If I go for the last option there, am I not passing up a perfect opportunity to present an account of the gospel according to a widely accepted version of the Scriptures, albeit without the quality clothing and messenger bag?
Today, I skulked in the kitchen. I didn’t answer my phone to the spammers and I didn’t open the door to the JWs.
I resented the fact that I felt annoyed by their intrusions. I object to being made to feel annoyed. My dander isn’t accustomed to being up – although this week has been a bit dandery, so it has.
I regret that I didn’t have the readiness to go through with any of the conversations offered to me today – I should at least give people the time of day – rather than having to check my windows and shuttle sprint from room to room to avoid people.
But I just couldn’t. Or just didn’t.
The JWs may well have been interested that I was reading Revelation 21 and 22 today. Today is the end of the E100. Last time they called, I was about to start the passages on Moses.
As for the visions in Revelation: whether they are literal, metaphorical or whatever – they are a fascinating picture of the end times positively oozing with symbolism, warnings and hope.
I hope I don’t intrude on people’s plans to tidy their kitchens. I am happy to discuss life the universe and everything with anyone that wants to (how can I say that when I just bodyswerved the JWs?). I suppose I am a hypocrite.
Enough of my hypocrisy. How do you react when you see JWs shuffling their tracts in your street? How do you react when the PPI man rings?