Jehovah's Witness

Working from home, my day is sometimes interrupted. The UPS guy comes by every couple of weeks to drop off a package, neighborhood kids drop by to see if the kids can play, a repair person arrives between a scheduled time to fix something in the house. They are short interruptions that come with the territory.

I've worked from home for about half of my professional career. The first time was from 1999-2004 and I've been at it again for almost a year.

In 1992, when I was an Outreach Worker at the Mesa Senior Center, part of our job was canvassing. My co-workers and I would pick a different area every two weeks, and knock on doors. We were looking for homes that had seniors in them to offer our outreach services (meals on wheels, homemaker duties, weekly sitters) and to invite people to visit the senior center for activities and lunch. The canvassing program was the brain-child of my boss, Steve Trahan. I've had three bosses named Steve, and he ranks as the best. He was a great manager, always offering advice on how to improve and how to best serve the seniors in our community. Canvassing, Steve believed, was one of the best ways to reach people in need.

The first time I walked the streets and knocked on doors, I was scared. Interrupting people during the day was not something I thought they wanted or needed. If they were home during the day, I concluded, they were either out of work or home from work on a day off. I wasn't familiar with the concept of "working from home" back then.

Arizona has a large Mormon population. It wasn't unheard of to see a pair of men (typically) in the neighborhood during the day. These guys were very identifiable: white short sleeved shirts, a tie, a backpack, and more often than not, a bicycle. I never actually spoke with any of these guys, but I understood what they were doing. They were on a mission, looking to spread their message to others. People often made fun of these guys; they were easy targets, I guess.

I was on a mission, as well. While I wasn't spreading religion throughout Mesa, I was looking to help others. Just like these guys were. I always supposed that my interruption was more welcomed than theirs. I have no proof to back up that claim, just the knowledge that when the door was opened and I asked if there were any seniors at home that might need assistance, I was often praised for my efforts and thanked for my help. Very rarely did the door get slammed in my face.

Armed with that background, I kind of just did what I feared the most. In all of the years that I have worked from home, I've never once been visited by a Mormon or any other religious group. I've heard tales of people getting into heated arguments with people. Politics and religion, I've always heard, are two subjects that should rarely be debated. But that doesn't stop people from trying. Rightfully so. They believe in something, and as long as their words are not hurtful (physically, that is), why shouldn't they have the right to spread their message?

From my office window, I saw the woman walking toward our house. Rex, our dog, loudly and incessantly announced their presence. I tried to pass their interruption off on Cyndi, telling her, "there are women about to ring the bell for you." She knew better.

I answered the door and was immediately hit with, "isn't this financial crisis troublesome?" No introduction, no polite pleasantries, just the immediate pressing of information. I immediately went on the defensive, I'll admit, but I sympathized with the women. They probably get hit with resistance all day. I sell software for a living, rejection and resistance are not fun. So I stopped the woman. I interrupted her pitch, politely asking who she represented. "Jehovah's Witness," she said with a smile. "I have a Bible with me and would like to discuss our financial crisis using it." She reached into her bag and pulled out a small, brown leather bound, Bible. She also had a green pamphlet in her hand, which, I assume, had information about being a member.

I wanted to be nice to these ladies. I would have preferred they offered information about senior services even though no one in our house needs any. It just would have been easier. I had to talk over her to get my message across. "I'm grounded in my Faith," I said, "And I appreciate what you are doing. Really, I do. I wish you well in your mission, but since I work from home, I have to get back to it."

"But the financial crisis," she continued, "we can help. Take this leaflet?"

I didn't take the information. I have no idea if that was a mistake or not. Maybe these people do have the answer. Maybe I am the fool for asking them to leave.

They left with smiles on their faces. I closed the door, locking it behind me, and felt bad about my reaction.

What if the door was closed on me like that 17 years ago? When I was trying to help spread the word. When I was simply trying to help others in need. Others in their own financial crisis.

I think I did the right thing, but I'm not sure. The kids had immediate questions. Questions about what they were doing and what they believed. Questions about why I asked them to leave and why I closed the door.

I answered them the best I could.

This is the first time in 39 years that I've been visited by a Jehovah's Witness. I'm thinking next time, in another 39, I'll pretend I'm not home.