“Why do I hate door-to-door salesmen?” my friend asked me yesterday.
Hate is a strong word, and maybe she used it more for emphasis than accuracy, but it seemed like she sort of meant it and was unsettled by the intensity of her feeling.
Earlier in the day, she’d been approached by someone selling a subscription to some kind of art magazine or newsletter. And as a full-time artist and an avid reader, my friend was an ideal prospect, someone probably more receptive than most.
(Keep in mind, though, this is an urban setting, and there was probably the natural apprehension that accompanies opening a door to a see stranger selling something.)
This particular person proceeded to recite a canned spiel in a tone that was both dogmatic and lazy. Put off, my friend tried to halt the monologue and say thanks but she wasn’t interested.
Bowling over her attempts to interject, he kept going with his routine. His lack of originality was impressive, and she would have felt sorry for the guy had his delivery not been so arrogant at the same time.
She firmly stated her non-interest.
He kept going, offering more of the same prefabricated claptrap, now in a raised voice that evoked a talk-radio bully.
She then made it clear that the conversation was over.
Realizing it was a lost cause, he testily strutted away without offering another word, presumably because saying “thank you for your time” would’ve taken precious seconds away from his efforts.
“Maybe it’s because I wasn’t being treated as a person,” my friend said, trying to understand why the experience was so upsetting.
Indeed, she had been the casualty of a long-ago discredited but still common method of selling—the top-down, one-way monologue.
To start a conversation is to engage a fellow sentient being. To talk at someone is to deprive them of their voice, their humanity. Not only is it demeaning, it’s ineffective.
P.S. My use of guy in this post's title was intentionally chauvinistic. In my experience, most (if not all) annoying sales people are, in fact, men.