“You can’t go wrong buying a house in Woodlake. It’s a fantastic place to raise a family. You’ll have access to the Swift Creek Resevoir, miles of tree-lined walking trails, some of the best schools in Virginia, shopping, community pools…..
Oh, I almost forgot. We have the hardest working team of Jehovah’s Witnesses in the entire country. These guys are always nearby and ready to talk. I mean, we all know how inconvenient it is to have to go out and find a Jehovah’s Witness when you need one. You won’t have to worry about that. Heck, they’ll probably beat the moving van to your house.*
This is the conversation James and I would’ve had with our realtor if he’d been more upfront about things. But he wasn’t. What realtor is?
Since we moved into Woodlake, the local JW’s have been visiting once a week to see if we’re still satisfied with our current religion provider. It’s always someone different. And they always come in pairs, like Canadian geese and girls visiting public restrooms. The less assertive ones stand at my front door and make small talk about the weather and when the rapture might happen. Occasionally I’ll get a seasoned veteran who asks if I’ve found GOD in a booming Wizard of Oz voice.
I always want to say “Yeah, actually, I found him this morning while I was vacuuming. Would you believe he was stuck between the couch cushions all this time?”
But I don’t say that.
I’m never rude to the Witnesses though, because not long ago I had a job like theirs. My self worth took a hit every time someone cut me off in mid sentence or refused to make eye contact.
The problem is that I’m a little too empathetic. And it’s cutting into my free time. I don’t have an extra 30 to 90 minutes per week to discuss whether I have a salvation plan B.
Out of curiosity, I posted a Facebook poll asking for ways to “get rid of” our JW friends. I apologize if that sounds harsh toward solicitors….
“Sorry, I can’t play tennis this afternoon, Patty. The Orkin man is coming at 1:30 to spray for termites and vacuum cleaner salesmen.”
Here are the 21 most creative ways to get Jehovah’s Witnesses to leave without being rude to them.
1) Answer the door naked or have a naked kid running around. Amy R. Rita E. Wayne F. Eve H.
2) Motion activated sprinklers. They work for deer too. Ken. J.
3) Answer the door wearing a party hat and tell them they’re just in time to sing Happy Birthday and have cake.
4) “I would love to hear about Jehovah, but first let me tell you about the book of Mormon.”-Ashley Mc.
5) A sign on the door that reads “infectious patient. Follow all air quality standard protocols at all times.” -Clay M.
6) Always answer the door with a butcher knife in your hand.-Margaret B.
7) “Come right in. You’re not afraid of the Ebola virus, are you?” – Susan H.
8) Keep an IV of fake blood hanging next to the door.-Tanya S. (extra points for Halloween creativity.)
9) Tell them you’re a satanist and ask if they’ve seen any cats around the neighborhood.-Liz H.
10) Start speaking in another language. If you don’t know one, make something up. -Beth B. (love this!)
11) Tell them you’re busy wrapping birthday and Christmas presents. -Jeff D.
12) Mace!-Candi L. (uh, Candi, we’re not trying to blind them.)
13) Tell them you just got out of prison and your cellmate is a progressive. – Chris K.
14) ‘A dead chicken hanging above the door works for me.” – Claudia G.
15) Tell them your family has leprosy.- Jeremy B.
16) ISIS costume – Heath R.
17) Answering the door wearing a live python – Whitney H. (Wonder how many people buy pythons to keep solicitors away.)
18) “My husband went to the back door while they were at the front door and fired off a few rounds. They never came back.”-Shana H.
19) Download Highway to Hell as your doorbell chime. – Kim G.
20) Insist that they recite the pledge to the flag. – Kathy S.
21) And my favorite…..Tell them you’re just there to rob the joint. Ask them to help you carry stuff out and offer to split it with them.-Terry J.
*Jehovah’s Witnesses are the worst thing Woodlake’s got to fret about? Our neighborhood in Northern California was right next to an oil refinery. Once a week we’d get these frantic shelter-in-place warning sirens which meant someone had exploded a skyscraper of toxic sludge, releasing DNA altering gasses into the atmosphere. “Shelter in place” meant that we should stay inside until it was safe to come out again…or until we stopped caring. To this day I blame my stubborn eczema on Chevron’s lack of safety precautions.
**I was kidding about the pantry moths