Door To Door

Customer Type #1: The Ones Who Listen To Their Kids

True, the people here might be a little tougher to crack, but they still can be cracked, because so far Hudson's had a 99.9% success rate (the 0.1% was an old man who choked on a walnut halfway through their conversation and shut the door in embarrassment. Hudson waited a few minutes for the guy to open the door again, but he didn't.).

Hudson learnt a long time ago that door-to-door work isn't actually about trying your luck at every door (however many times your employer tries to tell you otherwise) - it's about knowing your customers. If the house has a beach ball and toy slide in its front garden, you should probably try your luck, because a boy like Arthur might just do the convincing of his mom or dad for you. If the house has a rabid dog chained up to its fence, perhaps it's one to skip. 

The problem with New York is that they don't have houses - not like in Dallas, anyway. In New York, they all live in apartment blocks, behind doors that all look the same. It means that he has to be more careful, pick his customers after more thought. Even so; 99.9% success rate, so it's all good - and he plans to keep it that way. 

☒

 "Hello sir, I'm a representative of the charity Man's Best Friend - I was wondering if you had a few spare momen - "

"Man's best friend? As in, dogs?"  Hudson smiles at the girl - she looks twelve or thirteen - standing behind the man who answered the door. 

"Yep," he nods. "Disabled dogs, actually."

"So what, do we, like, adopt one or sponsor one or something?" the girl asks, clearly taking it upon herself to do all the talking.

"Well, actually, you can choose,"  Hudson reaches into his bag and chooses to pull out two, handing one to both father and daughter. "If you sponsor one, you'll be giving us the money to help the dog get back on its feet. Then, you can choose to adopt it afterwards. Alternatively, you can just give some money. "

"We should do this, Dad," the girl tells her father, already on the second page of the leaflet by the time Hudson has finished talking. 

The man spares his daughter a glance before nodding to Hudson. "I think we'd like to sign up, actually," he nods. 

"Great!" Hudson beams and offers the man his clipboard, silently congratulating himself on yet another job well done and thanking God for fathers who were putty in their daughters' hands. 

☒

 It's the last flat of his last assigned block of the day (which happens to be directly adjacent to the one he now lives in), and Hudson has to practically heave himself into the elevator, almost dizzy from exhaustion.

The top floor only has one door - Hudson supposes it's some kind of luxury suite-slash-penthouse deal - and he pauses for a second. Unlike most of the other doors in the building, there's not really anything situated on or around it to give him a hint as to whether or not the occupant of the flat is approachable. He shrugs to himself, bringing his knuckles up to the door and rapping them against it, figuring that he might as well take his chances.

After a few moments, a girl who Hudson immediately decides is the most attractive female to walk the earth since Selena Gomez opens the door. Any confidence he might have attempted to instill into himself as part of his pre-knocking ritual is slowly fading away - at the sight of her raised eyebrows and expression of mild distaste it near-vanishes.

"Can I help you?"

With those four words, any remnants of confidence which may have by chance be still left hanging around are thrown into a ditch and trampled upon. Even so, he nods mutely in answer to her question, swallowing and clenching his hand around the strap of his messenger bag.