Door-to-door sales

Just as I was drifting off into my nap someone knocked on the door. Shave-and-a-haircut, now that I think of it. It's a good thing he was amusing, since he woke me up.

He was an average-height black guy, early 20s, buzzed haircut, worn out and wrinkled (but clean) jeans. Fit the stereotype of a po' South'n black kid without a nickel, trying to make his way in the world purely through exuberance. (It's hard to know how to react to obviously seen stereotypes when living in a highly multi-cultural area.) He had a lot of energy, and a fast sales patter; though why he started with "I'm from Alabama and..." I'm not quite sure. Maybe South Carolinians are supposed to feel sorry for Alabamians.

He was selling a cleanser that he had developed himself. This 'homemade' cleanser was sort of pink. I could see it through the dollar-store spray bottle. He sprayed it on the glass on my door and buffed it with one of the oldest bathroom hand towels I've seen in a while. He showed me how it didn't streak or splotch. He explained that it had a special coating in it that worked into the glass so that fingers wouldn't leave prints. It also had a defogger, which he proved when he breathed and huffed on the glass right at my face level. Best of all, it's non-toxic!

And then he proceeded to drink it.

He was very nice and went away quietly when I explained we had no money in the house and were not in the market for cleaning supplies. But I worry about how many bottles of cleanser he may have drunk before he got his formula right...