The Persistent Pest in the Parlor
A classic 1878 dispatch on the 'improved' book agent who swears he never bothers anyone—right before being forcibly ejected into the street.
The story, cleaned up
A cleaned-up reading of the newspaper page: spelling and layout repaired, one story lifted off a crowded page. It follows the original closely but it is not a transcription. The original page is below; read it if a detail matters.
As he made his appearance before us, a sort of spasm passed over his face and fell into the appearance of a petrified smile—a smile that had nothing at all to do with his thoughts, feelings or intentions. Said he: 'I am a book agent, of course—you can see that at once by the samples I carry—but don't allow yourself to become ruffled at the mere sight of me. I am, I may truthfully say, one of the improved order of book agents. I never bother anyone. I never importune people to subscribe for my books. They show for themselves and speak for themselves. I carry none but the best of books, and depend upon the good taste and good sense of people to appreciate them. I don't go everywhere with my books; I find out the educated and refined, and go to them. Now, here is a book that I take pleasure in showing you—"The State of the Impenitent Dead." I have in this way taken orders for 500 copies of "The State of the Impenitent Dead" in Nevada, and 6000 in Utah.' We were obliged to gently waft this book agent of the improved order down the stairs to the street.
“I never bother anyone. I never importune people to subscribe for my books. They show for themselves and speak for themselves.”
While modern sales pitches have moved from doorstep book agents to digital algorithms and unsolicited emails, the feeling of being 'bothered' by a persistent salesman remains a quintessential Seattle experience. This 1878 satire captures the universal annoyance of the high-pressure pitch, a sentiment that has clearly survived 150 years of urban development.
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