For as long as I can remember I have been a passive person by nature, at times unable to express my true beliefs and feelings for fear of causing offence or sparking a quarrel. Seeing this process at work must be bizarre and entertaining to those many people who speak their mind candidly and often bashfully. The one occasion at which this can be seen at its most hilarious and pathetic is when Jehovah’s Witnesses call by for a chat. I am not in opposition to religion and I am completely open to the concept of an intelligent creator, but what I am not open to is conversion. My beliefs are independent and shall remain such.
On this particular morning I was nettled after losing an important memory stick in a tangled clutter of cables and other electrical equipment, eventually halting the search after coming to the conclusion that said memory stick was now forever lost in the Bermuda Triangle that is my abode. I returned downstairs with a fresh memory stick to recopy some files, feed myself and hit my morning dose of caffeine. Seconds after passing the front door, a heavy knock followed. Under normal circumstances I would have ignored it but, now caught in clear view of the window, I felt compelled to answer. I opened the door to find two men stood, one of which was taking refuge behind a wall whilst the other acknowledged my presence by forcing a leaflet under my nose and reciting his “conversion speech”, beginning with the question: “Do you want peace on earth?”.
I am informed that the majority of people confronted by religious canvassers simply request politely that they leave and then happily continue with their daily routine. I, however, cannot do this. I feel obliged to listen and find it difficult to rudely interrupt. I allowed the elderly gentleman to continue, perhaps even pitying him somewhat. After handing me an assortment of magazines he left, satisfied and content in believing that he had saved another soul from eternal damnation and suffering. I returned to the kitchen to find my files transferred and my kettle boiled. To be truthful, I was grateful for the company.
::Andrew also writes at The Robed Scribe::