Front door etiquette: the big question

Let's end the turmoil now.

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I was standing outside a friend’s house after having rung their doorbell. The door remained unanswered. This was my internal monologue which was no less tense and dramatic than that dagger soliloquy by Macbeth.

Did they hear that ring? Should I try again? How long should I leave between trying again? What if they’ve heard and are coming and if do it again I look impatient and aggro? They’ll be thinking, “Alright, calm down. I’m coming. What’s her problem?” But what if they haven’t heard and I’m just standing here like an idiot. I could be here all day. Maybe this doorbell doesn’t work. Should I have been able to hear it? I definitely couldn’t hear it. Maybe it’s not working. Or I didn’t press it hard enough.

I always worry that doorbells don’t work. I’ve never lived in a house with one so they still feel to me very modern and even a bit exotic. Like one of those taps that dispenses boiling water. Or a remote-controlled garage door. Or a robot vacuum cleaner. Out of curiosity, I looked up when they were invented. 1831. This is no different to me considering a carpet sweeper, a zipper or carbonated water to be new-fangled.

And then if you’ve rung the bell that you are now concerned is broken, is it okay to move on to knocking? Or will they think, “Who’s this at the door? Ned Ludd himself? Or that tin foil dad from Better Call Saul?”

The knock definitely feels more aggressive, all that banging metal on metal. Or hitting your bare knuckle against the door. And one step away from rattling the letterbox and then just kicking it in. But as I’m a feeble and physically weak person, there is a good chance that my knock wasn’t loud enough.

So the biggest dilemma is how long to wait between unanswered knocks or rings. I feel like I’ve waited up to five minutes before, just to give them a chance with the first one. If purgatory exists, I’m convinced it will be that wait between the first and second doorbell ring.

To be clear, I’m referring to when you’re making a pre-arranged visit to a home. The turmoil is even more complex when there’s a chance the habitant is out. When do you give up then? Two knocks or more? Because let’s be honest, say you are going to pick up a parcel from a neighbour, they’re probably not out. They’re probably hiding. Or in the bath. At what point do you give up as you’re starting to be a bit weirdly persistent? This is what they should be teaching in schools.

When my son was still napping, I used to have a ‘Don’t knock please’ sign on my front door. I also used to put one up asking for the delivery driver to leave the package on the doorstep if I was out. As I’d rather risk a parcel being stolen and alerting burglars to an empty house than having to collect it from a neighbour and worry about how long to leave between knocks.

When I say sign, please don’t imagine anything that had been designed, manufactured and sold. It was a handwritten note on paper torn without precision from a notebook and then taped to the door. I rarely go out now but those years of notes have left their mark.

As a child, despite growing up in a 1970s link detached house on the A13, we had a glossy black painted front door with brass door furniture which my dad would shine using Brasso with about the same frequency that I’d take a bath. You could’ve swapped it with the door at 10 Downing Street and nobody would have noticed.

In contrast, the door of my home now is white uPVC and covered in sticky Sellotape residue marks. Is there such a thing as downwardly mobile but just for front doors? At least those ugly streaks give people something to think about when they’re debating a second knock. Like, “Doesn’t she know you can buy stuff that can remove this?”

But my big question remains unanswered. So I went in search of help and found myself reading the blog of a door-to-door salesman, which is not something I expected to be doing when I woke up that morning. He confidently informed me that the best technique when faced with a front door is to knock firmly four to five times (what?!) and listen for any movement in the home. Then wait 15 – 20 seconds before ringing the doorbell (what?!). After another 15 – 20 seconds (what?!) ring again.

He is what can only be described as a door-knocking expert. And he’s also the only expert I could find. So for now, I will have to take his word as gospel. And maybe this will be the new brisk and efficient me.

Am I alone in these door worries? Tell me! In the second Bit Weird, Quite Normal poll.

And here are the results from last week’s inaugural poll.

I asked if you had ever frozen in an emergency.

58% said yes.

42% said no.

I’m normal! (Just about.)