By Lee Cataluna
Advertiser Columnist

Admit it. You know you've thought it. Maybe you've even said it — real quiet and mumbly under your breath as it happened to you, or later on, in a low voice among close friends in a secure area.

But you've never actually said it out loud as it was happening, have you? Neither have I, though the words were just about burning a hole on my tongue.

But somebody's gotta' say something. It's way past the point of rationality. And I realize to dare speak these words goes against the "no say notting" mandate of our local culture and that this brash statement will no doubt draw the wrath of countless decent, hardworking families. But in the name of common courtesy, I feel it's time to take a stand:

GET AWAY FROM ME WITH THE HULI HULI CHICKEN TICKETS.

And the chili tickets. The Portuguese sausage, laulau, and Moloka'i bread tickets. The M&M, the Christmas cards, the benefit car wash, the magazine subscriptions.

It's not that I don't support your club, your church, your kid's school, your family's reunion fund. I'd just like my support to be my own choice. I'm not griping so much about the money. It's the pressure that bugs. It's the guilt and obligation.

The worst, the absolute worst, is the darling little monsters who show up at your door on a Saturday morning all cute and polite and rehearsed. You break down and buy a handful of candy you don't want and don't need, because after all, they're so darn cute and you remember EXACTLY what it was like to be that age and knock on doors selling stuff and no ways are you going to be the mean, tight lady that never buys anything from anybody just like the mean, tight lady who never bought anything from you ... and as you close your door, you glance down at the boxes of chocolate-covered almonds in your hand and see the "mahalo" sticker on it and realize, damn it! These kids aren't even from your district! They're from a school clear across the island, which makes you wonder if your name is on some sort of hit list as a high-guilt, easy mark.

Part of my discomfort over the whole thing is that I've been there, too. I've knocked on doors and hit up friends with those tell-tale paper tickets in my hand. I've driven around with cases of M&M in the trunk of my car trying to foist them off to people before they melt. And just like you, I've had to eat it big time and buy the whole wad of tickets myself when I couldn't get up the energy or the nerve to sell them to anyone else.

So help me out, would you? Help me out so that I can help your team, your school, your club in a way that won't leave me feeling put-upon and resentful. Put a note on the community bulletin board. Send an office-wide e-mail. Put up a nice sign on the little card table and don't jump me the second I walk out of the grocery store. Let me know you've got something to sell in a way that doesn't make me feel like I gotta' dig out my last $5 while you're staring me square in the face. I can't handle the guilt. And if you notice the twenty in my wallet while I'm digging out the five, for crying out loud, don't mention it. That's for groceries, that's for gas, that's for the next person who's going to hit me up to buy stuff from them since, after all, I bought stuff from you.

Lee Cataluna's column runs Tuesdays, Fridays and Sundays. Reach her at 535-8172 or lcataluna@honoluluadvertiser.com.