Being a door-to-door salesman in old-time Phoenix


I'm too young to have ever seen door-to-door salesmen, like the Fuller Brush Man, but I definitely remember seeing them in the funnies, especially when Dagwood Bumstead would kick one. And my parents' generation had to deal with them, and from what I understand they were a very common pest.

You really don't see many door-to-door salesmen anymore, in spite of the signs on many doors that say "No Soliciting". Speaking for myself, since I have a peephole in my front door if I see someone carrying a clipboard and wearing a polo shirt, I wait until they go away, which they do.

And of course now I'm thinking about what it would have been like to have been a door-to-door salesman in old-time Phoenix. Let's time-travel to 1922, ring some doorbells, and sell some Fuller Brushes.

I'm a personable and nice-looking young man (at least my mom thinks so), so I really have all of the tools that I need for this job. I have a nice white dress shirt with a small blue twill, neatly pressed (thanks, mom!), a tie that my dad lent me, slacks, comfortable brogues, and of course my suitcase of samples, my order pad, and my pencil.

"Hello, ma'am..." SLAM!

"Hmm... I think we should try the next house."

"Hello, sir, I'm working my way through college. Have you ever wondered if a Fuller brush would..." SLAM!

"Hello, little girl! Are any adults home here? What? No one ain't here? Where's your grammar? Oh I see, she ain't here, either!

Thank you for helping me be a door-to-door salesman in old-time Phoenix!

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