Politicians, Or: Why I'm Never Answering the Door Again

Politicians, Or: Why I'm Never Answering the Door Again

My family lived a good long while without a doorbell.

It was a peaceful time, a time when I left it up to the dog to bark strangers away, a time when I could feign ignorance because, hey, no one rang the doorbell and maybe, just maybe, I was down in the basement and couldn't hear you knocking. (When, in actuality, I was hovering behind the door, waiting for you to go away.)

Those days are over.

A few weeks ago on a Saturday afternoon, while I was right in the middle of fixing my hair for an '80s-themed party, the doorbell rang. Ugh. I ran downstairs (against my better judgment). There was a man I had seen before on the stoop. I knew he'd come by before and I knew he'd come again. He was carrying a clipboard (red flag), and I thought maybe he was getting signatures for a ballot or something. At the very least, I wanted to end this whole doorbell ringing situation.

So I answered the door (again, against my better judgment). He told me he was one of my neighbors from the next block over and he was running for office. He gave me his whole spiel and he seemed qualified (he still seems qualified, to be fair to him) and he asked me if I'd put a sign on his lawn and, despite the fact that he was a Republican candidate and someone I didn't know at all, I agreed. TO BE NEIGHBORLY. BECAUSE I FIGURED THAT'S WHAT WE'D ALL BE DOING. IT'S WHAT EVERYONE DID WHEN THE OTHER GUY ON THE BLOCK RAN FOR THAT OTHER OFFICE LAST YEAR. A lawn sign is not a vote. A LAWN SIGN IS NOT A VOTE.

But we were not all doing that. A few of my neighbors have the sign on their lawns, but most don't (they do have other signs, though, for other candidates). It feels almost cliquish, like the cool kids knew automatically (kind of like how they know on instinct which colors to wear this spring) that we were not going to support this candidate, for whatever reason. And now every day I see the sign on my lawn, the symbol of tacit support, which, in reality, is not what this is.

It's merely a symbol of how I'm never answering my door again.

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