As someone who makes their living knocking on doors, a class of job that seems to fall somewhere between squeegee kid & executioner in terms of social reputation, I am ever amazed at the things people will tell me when I knock on their doors.
When I ask for the person responsible for the utility bills, invariably the wife will tell me the husband takes care of that, and the wife will tell me that is the husband's domain. Statistically this is about as likely as flipping heads on a coin about fifty times in a row. People will not hesitate to tell you any sort of BS to avoid doing anything. Including spending five minutes explaining to you why they could not find the bill. I could walk into a complete stranger's house and probably find it.
One time I was canvassing for Crimestoppers, a good & worthy cause if there ever was one. One jamoche answered the door, beer in one hand cigarette in the other, ripped track pants & stained T-Shirt, in a building whose tenants were certainly all on some sort of government handout. I told him what we were doing there, and, of course, he wasn't interested.
After he closed the door I heard him say "I can't believe what some people do for a living."
Yeah, I make about $14 an hour talking to people, and you can't afford to do laundry. I laughed my ass off.
I was born in the wrong era. In the 50's door-to-door marketing was common and no big thing. There was no stigma attached. People did not wrinkle their nose when you told them you sold things door-to-door.
I've never lied to anyone, pressured anyone, or pissed anyone off (well - nobody that didn't deserve it) and am more honest than your average mechanic. Yet when people find out what you do they see you as some sort of leech.
Next time someone comes to your door, invite them in, give them what they want, say thank you and have a nice day. They've heard all the excuses, so if you have an excuse (Like my boss once said to me "Must be an early spring - I can hear the birdies going CHEAP! CHEAP! CHEAP!) at least make it an original one.