For all you know, it was one of mine

You have come to me on this overcast morning, hoping to recruit me for your cause. In the first place, I am annoyed that you've interrupted my breakfast. No, I was not in the act of eating any breakfast, but I haven't entirely ruled it out, either. As such, your approach constitutes a pre-emptive interruption of a possible breakfast, and casts a dark shadow over my prospects for getting in a little brunch. So, from the word Go, you're standing on my dick. Moving on from there, your pitch starts with a series of hypothetical questions, beginning with obviously hyperbolic entreaties to save the world from evil, which you then narrow to more modest exhortations to take on mundane tasks which I, being a clever person, am expected to recognize as the finer strokes in the Big Picture. All for one, one for all, e pluribus unum, and let's get this party started, because we all know who let the dogs out - hoo, hoo, hoo, hoo-hoo - who let the dogs out. To this end, I am to sign onto your program and pay attention to my electronic mail for further calls to action.

I'm only putting all of that together now, admittedly, because while you were persuading me, I was studying your nametag (which gets high marks for looking professional - the black stripe suggests both functionality and high-tech,) and what appears to be a professional-grade clipboard, complete with little clamps to hold pens, plus a built-in calculator and interior compartment for God-knows-what. Whoever sent you here must have dressed up in all this gear and stood in front of a full-length mirror in order to craft an image which is at once formal enough to suggest respect, but casual enough to lend an air of volunteer-spirit, as if you'd thought of all this on your own. Hell, maybe you did. If I'd been paying closer attention, it's possible I'd know for sure.

The bottom line is this - I'm not giving you my name, because I don't want a bunch of shit mailed to my house, giving me righteous guilt because I won't donate money I don't have to like-minded organizations that I don't belong to. Further, I'm not giving you any more of my time, because I'm in my shorts, barely concealing a half-stock, and I have a mighty loaf to pinch. And last, I won't give you thirty seconds lead time before I release the hounds because I didn't train sixteen man-eating beasts as an idle threat, and you smell tastier than you look. You're a clever person, so I know you saw the sign on your way in; you made your full-body cast, now pee in it. Bon chance!