It was a gorgeous un-February Friday, so warm and sunny that all the windows were open, including the front-porch window right next to my desk. I was sitting at my desk, and I watched the guy walk up to our front door. So, even if we had a thing for ignoring people who knock on the front door, which we don't, we couldn't have ignored him.
He knocked on the door, triggering Jack's foaming-at-the-mouth kill mode. One of us had to answer the door and one of us had to hold the dog, and, since Joe was in the middle of a video game and I wasn't, it was my turn to answer.
"Hi. Are you the lady of the house?"
"Yes, sir."
"All right, wonderful. I'm Pastor Lying Jerkface* from A Fake Made-Up Ministry**. Here's a booklet."
*Name changed for privacy
**Name changed for privacy
I took the booklet. It was home-printed and spiral-bound. He pulled out a Georgia driver's license and presented it, arm held straight out, like a movie policeman flashing his badge.
"This is my ID. I have to show you my ID if I come knocking on your door."
I glanced at it because it was in my face, but felt no need to verify his identity. He was polite, older, well-dressed, wearing a tie. And also it didn't really matter who he was because I still had to stand on my porch and talk to him. But, since no other solicitors had bothered to show ID, I was impressed.
"Really?" I asked.
"Yep, have to show you my ID. It's the law in Georgia. So, I'm with this ministry, and I'm collecting donations for a shelter, a battered women and children's shelter. We have thirty-two kids there right now."
A women and children's shelter? NO WAY! That's exactly the kind of place I wanted to volunteer for when I lived in Fredericksburg!
"Oh, okay," I said politely, trying to remember if there was any cash in the house.
"I have someone who'll match every donation I collect today, up until 7:00 P.M."
"Wow, really? That's great!
"Yep. Have you ever seen the commercials on TV for Milton Ruben Chevrolet?"
"No, we don't have cable."
"Don't have cable! Well, me neither. I have one of those boxes, you know, the fifty-nine dollar boxes, and you can watch TV with them?"
"Yep, we have one of those, it's just not hooked up."
"Oh, well, it's fifty-nine dollars, and I watch TV with it, you know, the free channels."
"Yeah...we don't really watch TV."
"Well, anyway, there's commercials on there for Milton Ruben Chevrolet."
"Oh, okay," I said.
"So where are you from?" He asked.
"Virginia, originally."
"What are you doing all the way down here?"
"He got stationed at Fort Gordon," I said, pointing with my thumb back towards the house.
"Oh, I see. Do you have children?"
"Not yet."
"Then what are you waiting for?"
"The Lord, at this point," I said. He laughed.
"Just wait on the Lord, that's right. He'll provide everything you need."
Awkward? No, not at all. Not in the least. Nnnope.
The small talk continued for a few more minutes. At one point he said something like, "Whatever you can donate, all thirty-two of those children thank you."
"Well, I'm not sure I have anything, but let me go inside and check my purse," I said. I went inside and talked very quietly to Joe, who was at his desk a few feet away from the window.
"Hey Joe...you heard all that?"
"Yeah."
There were two chunks of money in my purse: Two ones, and a twenty. I held the ones in one hand and the twenty in another. "Which one?"
"Whatever you feel you gotta do, baby."
Hooray! Joe overheard the conversation on the porch and is agreeing that this guy is legit! (Even though - take note - "Whatever you feel you gotta do, baby" is NOT "yes," and I knew it.) So I ran out there with the twenty, thinking how it was really forty with the matching donation and how awesome that was and trying to remember why I had a twenty in my purse at all, 'cause I usually don't have cash. The man reached out like he wanted to shake my hand. I gave him the $20 and tried to shake his hand at the same time, which didn't work very well and created another awkward moment.
"God bless you!" He said.
"Who was it you said was going to match donations, by the way?" I asked, just curious.
"I told you earlier! Milton Ruben Chevrolet!"
"Oh," I said. Somehow, I hadn't interpreted the babbling about commercials as information about his sponsor. "That's just so cool for them to be doing that!" I said.
"Yes, ma'am. So, what do you do for a living?"
"I don't really have a job right now. I mean, I used to be a court reporter, and I still get some work from my office in Virginia, but that's it."
"Oh. Well, you have to focus on your career, too!"
"Doing his laundry and cooking his dinners is my career!" I said, "And that's how I like it."
He laughed. "Well, as long as that's how you like it."
I nodded and smiled a lot, and he thanked me again and left.
I went back inside and sat down at my desk, embarrassed that Joe & his friend had heard that conversation...but also really happy that I got to help. I was wondering what $40 would buy the shelter. Dishsoap? Peanut butter? Toilet paper? So many possibilities!
But then the warm fuzzies began to wear off and I started wondering. I Googled the name of the church written in the booklet he'd given me. The church was real, and just down the road. The name he introduced himself by actually was the name of the church's pastor.
It was also the name of a guy who was written up in the local news six months ago for going door-to-door asking for donations for a women's shelter, falsely claiming that the Columbia County Commissioner would match every donation he collected.
I could have panicked, but instead I just went straight for a sinking feeling of resignation.
I called the Milton Ruben Chevy dealer. Three times, actually, after being put on hold and finding the right number. I eventually spoke to a manager, who told me they weren't taking part in any such fundraiser. The manager suggested that I not give money to any person making these claims.
That's how I found out that I got scammed. I gave $20 to a liar who came to my house, wasted my time, and earned my trust.
Maddening. Infuriating. But not the worst part.
Ephesians 5:22 (like other verses) tells wives to submit to their own husbands as they do the Lord. "Submit," in this verse, is the Greek "hupotasso," for which there are many shades of meaning; one Greek lexicon uses the definition "to yield to one's admonition or advice." (NOTE: There are also, of course, verses pertaining to a husband's duties to his wife. Also, I know the whole submission thing is generally a touchy subject, but I'm staying away from that discussion. I believe it's my duty and privilege to be second-in-command, and I know it's a good plan.)
Well, only a few days before this incident, we'd had a rather painful...DISCUSSION about a topic we've always DISCUSSED: charitable giving. I'm of the opinion that we should give away a large percentage of our income. Joe thinks it's weird and kind of stupid to give hard-earned money to strangers.
So there I was, $2 in one hand, $20 in the other, and an expectant look on my face. "Whatever you feel you gotta do, baby," Joe said. While this can mean many things, in this situation, it meant "Haven't we always talked about this? You know EXACTLY what I think. But I don't feel like defending myself against your silent self-righteous wrath for the next hour, so do whatever you want." And there went the $20.
And so the few minutes after I spoke to the Milton Ruben man were the most humiliating moments in the entire 3.5 years of our marriage. "Hey, Joe...you know how you say I shouldn't give money to people I don't know, and I get so angry, and then you get ripped to shreds and can't really defend yourself because I'm JUST TRYING TO DO THE RIGHT THING...and you know how I'm always like 'Teehee, I always do what you say!'.....but I didn't (and often don't,) and that's why this happened........uhh, yeah.........I'm not even going to try 'sorry.'"
It. was. horrible.
Joe didn't say "I told you so." He didn't have to. He did say, "From now on, I'm answering the door." He also said, "It was $20 well spent if you learned a lesson." And I did: Even when you think you know what's right, obey your husband. The rule's there for a reason.
Also, the next time someone comes a-knocking, kick them in the shin, slam the door, and call the police.
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