Door-to-door sales

"Sumimasen! Sumimasen!" a high pictched voice called urgently from outside my front door. I rushed to answer it.

A young, slightly moon-faced girl wearing a white shirt, blue skirt and a name badge stood on my steps. Behind her, a middle aged man dressed in a yellow shirt and khaki pants watched.

"Konban ha" she started and she launched into a sixty second prepared speech delivered in a songlike, reedy voice completely with hand motions. It was such an interesting performance that I marvelled at it without concentrating on the content. So when she got to the end of the pitch, I had little idea what she had just told me.

The flyer she handed over had photographs of the aged and infirm in wheelchairs and doing crafts, so I made a quick guess. Old people's charity. What was she selling? Cleaning cloths.

I dug for the money in my purse and the girl accosted me with questions, some in English, some in Japanese. I'm from America. I am 34 years old. I am married. Yes, this is a tattoo.

I haven't yet learned to end these sessions gracefully. There must be some magic phrase that lets everyone know it's over. As it was, I handed her the money, she wrote out a receipt for me and I thanked her. Then she thanked me even more politely and asked me some more questions, punctuated with exclamations of awe. I countered with a cheery "Otsukare sama deshita" and closed the door.

As the latch clicked shut I hear her and her companion calling out yet another thank you. I have no doubt that they were bowing.