When I was a kid, I was one of those competitive kids. The funny thing about that is I was the equivalent of Richie Rich, sans all the dough. So, essentially, my competitive nature got me nowhere. All the other kids were better than I at all of the sports I ever tried. Further, I sucked at playing musical instruments, and while I was relatively smart, there were always kids smarter than I. So, I was sorta just an average, wimpy kid strolling along.
The one thing I was very good at, though, was being a salesman. I could sell ice to an eskimo, I could sell toilet paper to an animal, and I could even sell booze to a non-alcoholic. Okay, none of those are true examples, but here's where I'm going with this...
In elementary school, we always had school fundraisers. To this day, I still don't know what I was raising funds for. I'm sure it was for better technology, books, or a bonus for the principal. Nonetheless, I dominated this arena better than everyone in the school. In fact, in 5th and 6th grade, I was the top seller each year.
I'd get all excited to go sell stuff. And, being bulletproof at that age, I did door-to-door selling. Looking back, I probably looked ridiculous. I'd walk around town with this plastic, purple briefcase (formerly used to hold crayons), and I'd present myself at every door with a giant grin. I'm sure my hair was a mess, and I could probably have used more deodorant in those days, but the neighborhoods around town loved me!
And let me tell you: you sure do meet some interesting people while selling stuff door-to-door. I think that's the reason the school administration got mad at me for going door-to-door. Would I do that today? Hell no; I'd probably be killed or injected with drugs or walk in on a prostitution ring or witness a murder or find a meth lab or get eaten by a Rottweiler or, well, you get it. But, people were interesting back then, and everyone was unique. I remember this one lady, for example, whose house and lifestyle were devoted to leopard print EVERYTHING. Her clothes, furniture, rugs, decorations, and even plates had leopard print on them. Or, how about the hoarder I met? That guy had paths through his house to get through it. There were so many old appliances and boxes and so many other random things, but he literally had paths you had to squeeze through in order to move around his house. Other houses were dreary, some reeked, and still some held on to the idea of hanging dead, stuffed animals on their walls. And I'll admit, there were some creepers, but I was pretty safe about that. If I felt uncomfortable, we exchanged orders and money outside where people could see us.
I had a favorite, regular customer, though. There was this elderly couple that lived a block away from my house. The husband's name was Dalton, and I wish I could remember the wife's name. They were so polite all of the time. They bought stuff they didn't even need, probably just to support the school. But, they always had snacks for me. In fact, their house was the first place I ever had a rye krisp with butter on it! My most memorable moment at their house, however, was when they gave me chocolate at Christmas time once. I went to deliver what they had ordered, and soon we were having a conversation. Next thing I know the wife brings out goodies for me, and I dive in. It turns out, and she didn't realize until I had consumed four or five chocolates, that they were booze-filled. Ha! Certainly there wasn't enough alcohol in them to affect even a baby, but that was quite the moment. She made me promise not to tell my mom about it, though. I'll never forget Dalton and his wife.
I think about this tonight because I saw some kids approach my door this evening. I didn't know who they were, but their parents were in a vehicle down the street making sure no one (or hoping that someone?) kidnapped them. I was upstairs, and by the time I got downstairs, they had already left. But, they were selling wreaths, and I just may have bought one, had they waited longer. Also, they only faintly knocked at my door, so had I not seen them out the window, I never would have known they were there.
It's great to stroll down memory lane once in a while, isn't it? I'm only 26, but I still try to remind myself of my youth. I hope those kids are successful in selling their wreaths, but one word of advice: use the doorbell!
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