Unlike a lot of the biases in this series, I know this bias is irrational, neighborly and unfair. However, I just can’t shake it. My first instinct, always, when I hear a knock on the door (I disconnected the door bell long ago when it kept going off on its own) is some mixture of anger, annoyance, and dread.
The bias became full blown when a large female Alzheimer patient startled Grace and I awake one morning shortly after we were married by banging on our front door while roaring angry gibberish. It turned out she had wandered off from a facility and thought she lived here. Four police officers had a hard time corralling her. Long before that, though, my mother had poisoned me against the whole concept of surprise visitors: she distrusted them. Then there was that mentally ill guy with an old Weimeraner on a leash who would knock on our door in Arlington, Mass. still thinking he was an air raid warden and that it was World War II. I remember that he had clear blue eyes, dead eyes, like a zombie. This was before I had ever encountered Jehovah’s Witnesses, kids selling magazines to pay for a trip to Disney World, and Comcast salesmen.
And before I had watched so many home-invasion movies.
This morning, in the middle of trying to make a client deadline, a woman banged on the door. It interrupted my train of thought, it meant that I had to leash Spuds, then feed him (he hadn’t gotten out of bed—MY bed!—yet) and walk him. That knock cost me 40 minutes. The woman, not quite as large and frightening as the orange-warmup-suit clad intruder all those tears ago, but close, asked me if people I had never heard of lived here.
I know my bias is wrong. Since my wife died, many neighbors have knocked on my door to check on me, express their concern, and give me food (but no casseroles!). I’ve greeted all of them with a smile, but it still takes effort.
My instinct is still to answer the door with a baseball bat, and a curt, “WHAT???”
Ethics Alarms 
What happens on Halloween? We get over 100 people in our neighborhood.
Almost nobody. Last year, 5 kids.
Well, it’s actually called cognitive bias and is a systematic error in thinking, affecting how we process information, perceive others, and make decisions. It can lead to irrational thoughts or judgments and is often based on our perceptions, memories, or individual and societal beliefs.
That being said, yep, I agree with you. As a writer and speaker I work at home and detest the “unnecessary” and “unwelcome” interruptions.
I have learned to be more friendly of most interruptions. They don’t know I am working and I have not put a notice on the door stating intruders are not welcomed. Door to door solicitors are an exception to the rule and encouraged to not return or their health will be in jeopardy.
Yeah, I “actually” know what “cognitive bias” is, but thanks for the condescending pedantry; I’m duly impressed.
Comment of the Day!
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My husband usually has me answer the front door at home, as I tend to be more polite and have more patience with first contact from a stranger. (I reserve the right to call upon him for backup, however!)
Remember when Shirley Feeney from “Laverne & Shirley” used to grab a baseball bat and growl, “Who is it?” before she would answer the door?
In your defense, though, with neighborliness on the decline in this country, when you open the door, it is more likely to be a pushy salesperson shown up at the most inconvenient time possible.
I simply don’t answer the door at all. I do look (discretely, of course), and when I see a commercial credential, non-LEO uniform, or that it’s not a neighbor, relative, or friend, I simply ignore it. They always go away.
Excellent choice of Three’s Company song to introduce the post. I didn’t get it at first but then…
I’m not fond of unsolicited visitors at our front door, but it’s a necessity of life if people need something that requires front door contact. I generally answer with a mildly irritated “What?” first and then it’s generally followed up relatively quick canned “we’re not interested” response followed by closing the door.
About a week ago there was a young lady that came to our door asking for money for some nonsense that we weren’t interested in and when I gave the canned “we’re not interested” response she instantly got offended and said “well how rude..” and she continued with her presentation which got me out from behind the door and in her snowflaking face and told her that she was the one being rude by disturbing us with her unsolicited begging for money and she needed to get off my property, she stood there still babbling away trying to get money and then I got about an inch from her nose and yelled “GO!”. I thought she was gonna cry, but she left in silence. Her handlers must have told her that older people have been taught to be polite and let her say what’s she’s got to say before they do or say anything, so don’t stop talking until you’re done.
After years of being on-call for emergencies, I’m also not fond of the phone ringing. Some years ago after getting two or three spam calls in a row over a short span of time the phone rang again and I picked it up and said in an angry gruff voice “What do you want?!” and it happened to be a potential employer for my daughter calling to set up and appointment for her job interview, so I handed the phone to my daughter and said in a much calmer voice so it could be heard over the phone “It’s for you”, my daughter and the potential employer had a little laugh about the whole thing. Yes I can be a real asshole and I guess I shouldn’t judge all rings by the sound. 😉
The camera doorbell is a game-changer. If someone rings the doorbell, an alert, pops up on my and my wife’s phone. A tap of the alert brings up a live camera view of the front porch. I can press a button and speak to them through the doorbell, Ignore them completely, or answer the phone if it’s somebody I can recognize.
At our rural property, our house is not visible from the road, and few uninvited strangers venture down our nearly 1000–foot driveway. USPS, UPS, and FedEx delivering packages are our most frequent “visitors.” I answer the door when anyone knocks in the daytime, but not without adequate preparation. Anyone coming onto the property at night, unannounced and unexpected, likely “ain’t collecting for the Red Cross,” and gets less cordial scrutiny.