Cold Shouldering Cold Callers

Clearly, I'm going to have to put a notice up on my front door saying something along the lines of 'No Charity Cold Callers'.  I had another one today, ambushing me on my doorstep and attempting to inveigle me into making some kind of financial commitment to their cause.  It's always the same: the spiel about those poor orphan kittens from Romania, or whatever, whose lives would be improved if you could just pledge a modest two hundred quid a week to their charity, obviously designed to tug on your heartstrings and shame you into contributing as, apparently, all your neighbours have already signed up.  I mean, you wouldn't want to be that mean bastard who said no to such a deserving cause, would you?  Well, I have no qualms about saying no - from a purely practical perspective I simply can't afford to support all of these causes.  (After all, I'm not actually working these days - I'm coasting along, courtesy of my disgustingly healthy finances, courtesy of years of being a skinflint, until a couple of work pensions kick in, or I'm offered some kind of employment I like the look of).  More than that, though, I just don't like he emotional manipulation, let alone all that fake friendliness as they try to establish a 'connection' with you.  (I make the latter as difficult as possible with a series of monosyllabic negative answers to such enquiries as to whether I have children, a wife, a dog or whatever.  I'd do this even if I did have any of those things - it denies them an opening).  I try not to be outright rude - I spent far too many years knocking on doors trying to enforce civil orders, receiving a fair amount of abuse, hostility and threats.  I wouldn't wish that on anyone.

Still, I guess it was my fault for answering the door - I really should know by now that no legitimate callers ever knock on the door at half past three in the afternoon.  Most people are at work or getting the kids from school at that time.  I suppose it is one of the perils of being a man of leisure - I'm often at home during the day to fall prey to the cold callers.  But it comes to something when a man can't lounge on his sofa, half watching William Shatner making clear that he thinks all the paranormal explanations in Weird or What are utter bollocks and the people advocating them 'nut jobs' (his words, not mine), while idly contemplating going out and putting some over priced diesel in his car, without having someone try to shame him into giving to charity.  I suppose that it could have been worse, it could have been one of those fast food couriers who has got the wrong address.  This happens frequently to me.  Despite telling them that not only haven't I ordered anything, but I never use the likes of Deliveroo, I inevitably have to waste time arguing with them as they insist that they have the correct address.  Often the problem lies with the fact that there is a similarly named road a few streets away and the address has been taken down wrongly.  Often, the problem is that there are several properties divided into flats on my street and the delivery is actually for 'Flat 1' of one of these.  Because I live at number 1 on my road, they come here, despite the fact that this is clearly a terraced house, not a flat.  Actually, even worse than those guys are the parcel delivery guys trying to deliver stuff to people who have never lived at this address (again, somebody has taken it down incorrectly).  I've known some of them to get quite aggressive about my refusal to take stuff I've not ordered.  Even worse is when they've left it with one of the neighbours and I refuse to accept the delivery.  I'd like to say that these sorts of things enliven my day, except that they don't.  It's got to the stage that I'm seriously contemplating not answering the door at all if not expecting someone.  That'll show them...