#69: Let's Get Pol-it-i-cal, Pol-it-i-cal
When Curiosity Fizzles Out
Almost two months ago, our doorbell rang as I was on hold (again) with a bank on my phone.
Our doorbell doesn’t ring often, and when it does, our dogs go nuts barking and racing to the door.
So when chaos erupted while I was waiting patiently on hold, it annoyed me. And I’m sure that annoyance radiated in waves through our closed door to the unassuming, professionally dressed man in his 40s who was standing on our front porch.
I couldn’t hear him, or what he was selling, over the barking. And besides, I was waiting for the bank to come back onto the call.
So I held up my phone, pointed to it and then to the dogs, and shrugged. He nodded, smiled then turned and walked away.
A couple of hours later, I noticed he had left something wedged into our storm door. When I retrieved it, I was surprised to see it wasn’t a solicitation, it was from a local political candidate – the guy who had stood on our doorstep.
I’m not political – at least, not as in terms of parties, and parties is all that seems to matter these days. I’m a registered independent, and during my life I have voted for both Democratic and Republican candidates. I don’t support the full platform of either party, and their platforms don’t represent me.
Still, I felt badly about how I had reacted to the guy at my door (whose name turned out to also be Scott, though you couldn’t tell it from his flyer because nowhere on it does it state his first name – Scott, if you are reading this, I hereby offer to proof your stuff for free).
So I looked him up, found his campaign website and emailed him an apology. I said I was actually curious about how he became involved in local politics, because I was still new to Georgia and didn’t know much about the state.
I said I had noticed he was a Democrat, and I wondered what it was like for him to run as a Democrat in a red state. To make my position clear, I emphasized to him that I was an independent, and didn’t support either party. [Note: The wife of one of my long-time friends ran for office in North Carolina in 2024 as a first-time candidate. She ran as a Democrat in a very Republican state, and not even she thought she could win. That wasn’t her goal - she ran to prompt the entrenched incumbent to respond to questions, lay out his platform, maybe even debate her, none of which he would have had to do running unopposed. That is a principle I can support, regardless of party. Props, Caroline.]
The guy who had rung our doorbell shocked me by responding in less than a day. And he suggested we talk. He noted in his email that he was not a politician, and in fact this was the first time he had run for anything.
I was intrigued.
And so began a series of emails back and forth, trying to arrange an actual meeting. At one point in February, he actually offered two dates – the Friday before or the Sunday after Valentine’s Day.
I said either was fine, and suggested a nearby meeting spot.
Then he went dark. Weeks passed, and I told my family I guess it wasn’t meant to be. My curiosity would go unfilled.
Until last Saturday, when a new email appeared in my inbox.
After apologizing and again noting his hectic work and personal schedule, he suggested … that I talk to another guy who had run for a local office. Scott copied the other guy, said he hoped we could connect and excused himself.
I guess that’s … politics?
The part of me that is curious remains curious. But the part of me that is a professional is irked at being pawned off on someone I don’t know.
It kind of feels like when you get your car serviced at a dealer, and while you are waiting someone at the dealership approaches you and offers a free trade-in assessment. You’re interested in what your car’s value might be, but saying “sure” can set things in motion that you know should stay at rest.
I think I’ll leave it alone for now. I doubt I will hear from the other guy, who was probably as surprised as I was to be connected.
Sometimes the best choice when pursuing curiosity, is simply to stop pursuing.
And disconnect your doorbell.