The Peddler - II

Another Peddler Story

Once a year, a man and his push-cart makes his way through my neighborhood, sharpening knives and scissors on the sidewalk. There is no announcement of his coming and little fanfare as he makes his way down the street. Only a small bell that quietly dings with each revolution of the cart wheel and  a small transistor radio playing opera music signals his arrival. But somehow this is enough.  Usually, the neighborhood children are the first to notice.  The excitement of the children sets off the "Neighborhood Watch" mechanism and as the word spread, adults begin to appear curbside with utensils in need of a fresh edge. He is very amicable and usually spends much of his time explaining to the children (and adults) how his human-powered grinding wheel works.  

In the summer of '06  I had some blades that needed to be sharpened. There weren't any children to entertain so we began to have your typical empty conversation about the neighborhood. At that time a house across the street was having some work done on its roof and he asked if they were having any work done on their gutters. I knew that the house had copper gutters and I also knew that the price for that metal was in a bull market, reaching record levels practicallyy every trading session.  I asked him why he was interested. He replied that with copper at its current level the contractors were probably going to try take advantage of the home-owners by removing the old gutters and then reselling to a scrap-metal dealer. What surprised me was that the price he quoted to me was so accurate. When I pressed him further regrading his knowledge about copper he told me about his investments in the copper mining company BHP Billiton (NYSE: BHP) and Alcoa (NYSE: AA) He spoke about how the falling US dollar and Chinese demand were lifting the prices of these industrial materials.

I rank his market savvy right up there with: #1) my house-painter who at the turn of this century was correct in questioning why technology stocks kept rallying; 















or #2) my acupuncturist who voiced his concerns about the housing market in 2006 or 2007;

Bought 1.27.10 @ $99.30 Last $324.60 Up 227%

and finally closer to home #3) my wife, who bought shares in a robotic surgical device (ISRG) company that she heard about from her father and Chipotle Mexican Grill (CMG) because our daughter worked there and it was featured on Oprah.

Bought 05.01.06 @ $128.8 Last $400.55 Up 212%

The Peddler

I don't like door-to-door salesmen.  My disdain began when I was a child and stems from a very tenacious Fuller Brush salesman who showed up on our doorstep every year.  No matter how much my mother protested he always seemed to somehow get his sample bag inside the house. (I think it was his short sleeved button down shirt and tie that did the trick.)  Anyway, even though that man annoyed my mother to no end, she usually ended up buying something from him just to get him out of the house.  

Today's door to door salespeople don’t have the doggedness that the Fuller Brush man had. They take more of a low-key approach: "Hey, I was hangin with the Smiths down the block. They just signed up for xxxx and they thought you might be interested in it as well." But in all the times that I've heard this pitch, I don't think that I have ever recognized the name of those "neighbors down the street." These hucksters that are out plying their wares seem so suspect to me. I mean, do you really think it would be a good idea to buy steaks out of the back of a truck that's parked at the end of the block?  I don’t think so. 

 Now I only deal with kids selling cookies or coupon books for their organizations or teams.

But today was different. I didn't buy anything, but I did actually take the time to talk with a salesman for a good five minutes or so. See, I was expecting a house-painter a come over and do some touch-up work, so when the doorbell rang, I opened the door and stepped out on to the landing. I didn't recognize the person at the door so I thought that they had sent someone else to do the painting.  I was caught off guard when this person handed me a flyer and asked me if I was interested in something that would remove the mold & mildew stains from wooden outdoor furniture. (Like the rocking chair that's on the front porch.) With that he pulled out a spray bottle from his belt, gave the chair a couple of quick squirts and then used a white rag to wipe off some of the green mold.

"This is a proprietary blend of natural ingredients with a sodium base to help prevent the mold from reappearing." "Have you ever seen anything clean mold up this well?" he asked.

"Well, actually, I have. We mix water and vinegar together to clean up around the house. I used it on this chair 3 years ago, as a matter of fact"

"You mean just plain old vinegar? I don't see how that could be. How long do you let it soak in before up wipe it off?

"I use it the same way you just did. Spray and wipe."

“I don't see how that could be" he said. "Just vinegar and water????"

"If you want, I can go inside and get my bottle to show you."

"Yeah, sure. Lemme see it work."

So I got my spray bottle form under the kitchen sink and brought it back outside. I applied it to the chair and borrowed his cloth to wipe the chair down. And wouldn’t you know my concoction did a better job than his “proprietary blend.”

His jaw dropped and he had such a confused and bewildered expression on his face.

“I can’t believe it.” “Just plain old vinegar and water?” “I’ve got to tell my boss about this. I’ve been selling this stuff for over a year and this is the first time I’ve ever seen anything like this!!” Then he went silent, so shattered that he just stood there for a minute before saying “OK then, I guess I should be going.” He turned and slinked down the driveway towards the sidewalk. He paused when he got to the walk, turned towards me and then just shook his head.

My dear readers, when I began to write this, my intention was to write a humorous entry about a mundane everyday occurrence. But after putting these thoughts down on paper, I feel so horribly guilty. Remembering how his demeanor and posture changed so suddenly really bothers me. Now all I can think of is that salesman walking door to door under the scorching July sun carrying with him a small seed of doubt that I planted in his mind.

When the next peddler comes by, I think I’ll offer up a glass of lemonade before I send them of their way.