Quite some years back, I did some door-to-door political canvassing. (Agitate the base, get people to tell a stranger they were absolutely going to vote, maybe recruit some more canvassers if we were super lucky.)

This is utterly shocking to anyone who knew me back then, as it was a complete 180° from my socially-petrified personality. I believed in the cause, but when I showed up at the local campaign office, they didn't need the printers fixed or any data entered (several folks in wheelchairs had that covered), and they explained that the best place I could be was on someone's porch. I couldn't bring myself to walk away, so I forced myself out of my comfort zone, picked up a clipboard, and rang a doorbell.

The world did not end.

I figured out some hacks pretty quickly.

First, like all canvassers, I prominently displayed several campaign buttons AND a badge that identified me, so verbally reiterating THAT was a really dull way to open. Door closed in face, politely if I was lucky.

It was much better to size up the house as I walked up to it, and pick something to open with. If they grew plants I recognized, I'd point that out, and talk about the environment. If they had a flag out, I'd thank them and talk about civic pride. If they had a compact fluorescent bulb in their porch light, I'd point to it and say "And I'm pretty sure we agree on a lot of things beyond that!". I dared not elaborate on that one, lest I interrupt their ear-to-ear grin, that someone had picked up on their little spiral sign.

All of these were things that THEY had done. They planted the flowers. They hung the flag. They chose the lightbulb. And I sussed out the little decisions embodied in those things, things that they were quietly proud of, and complimented them for their good taste, and explained that I, too, found these things important. So important that I forced myself out of my comfort zone, and found myself on a stranger's porch asking if they also felt strongly enough to join me in taking action. Of course, they already HAD taken action, and we both knew it.

Who's going to say no to that?

Second, there was the noncommittal "I'm still doing my research / just don't know enough about the candidate yet". Technically noncommittal, but it was pretty late in the game, and this was actually a polite "no". I suspected that many of them were a thin façade for racism, as gutting as that felt, and feels to this day.

But I thanked them profusely for "still doing their research". I was SO GLAD that they wouldn't vote for someone they didn't know enough about yet! Because of course all voters have a duty to be informed, and it was really gratifying that they took it so seriously. And besides, I confided: I was quite comfortable that when they actually DID do a satisfactory amount of research, when they DID get to know the candidate better (as I had, obsessively, read everything I could get my hands on over the prior weeks), that I could count on their vote. I thanked them again for their diligence, and left that to linger as I trotted back to the sidewalk.

Followups showed that of these "3" (on a scale of 1 to 5) contacts were incredibly likely to swing to a 4 or a 5 after my visit. Vastly more so than other canvassers' 3's. And later, they actually did get out and vote, at abnormally high rates.

Because I'd structured it such that supporting the candidate was the obvious and inevitable outcome of learning more about him. And who wants to remain ignorant? (Okay, note for 2025: A decade or two ago, this question was much more rhetorical.)

Third, and I hinted at it above, I was very open and self-deprecating about how uncomfortable I was with canvassing in general. But I was really glad that, if I had to be on a stranger's porch, at least it was their porch. They'd been very nice, despite my interrupting their dinner! I was asking them for the favor of their vote, and they'd already done me a favor in answering the door. They clearly were kind, thoughtful people, and that's exactly the theme of hope and pride and support that I knew I could count on.

There's a well-worn anecdote about Benjamin Franklin asking to borrow a rare book from someone who disliked him. In asking for it, Franklin showed his good taste in books, a thing that the two men now shared. And refusing the loan would've been uncouth, so the man loaned it, but now he'd done Franklin a favor, and who would do a favor for someone they disliked? So logically, goes the story, he must like Franklin.

I had people leave their plates mid-dinner, to walk back to the campaign office with me and sign up for tomorrow's canvassing shift. If I could handle it, so could they, and gosh darn it, they were going to.

I was so proud that I was good at this, until one day:

I'd been doing a lot of it (being between jobs, as I was), and I had a pretty good track record, so they started sending new canvassers out with me to show them the ropes. We'd knock the first street or two together, then split up and do opposite sides of the same street until we finished our turf, then they'd get their own and go out solo. One such newbie, as I shared the tips described above, said those were great, then casually asked "so how long have you been in sales?"

That's when the world ended.