Psst. Hey you. Yah you. Come over here. Wanna buy some cookies? Uh, I got Trefoils. I got your Do-si-dos. I got Double Dutch, Samoas, and Thin Mints. I even got Lemon Coolers. They’re lo-cal. What’s your pleasure?
Thin Mints please. Those delectable chocolate-covered wafers. They seem to melt in your mouth so effortlessly you’re scarfing down a whole box before the first commercial of CSI. THIN MINTS! Ummmmm. I want ’em now and I want ’em bad. It’s Girl Scout cookie time.
I’m not alone. It’s the middle of winter. The weather’s cold and bitter. We’re all on carb overload. And I got the goods. Samoas. So so good and so so bad for you. Full of coconut oil and seventy calories a piece. But, boy, with a Vente Skim Latte they sure make those early morning meetings a pleasure.
I’m a pusher. A cookie pusher.
My source is my youngest daughter in her guise as a Brownie. My wife and I had this all planned. A major factor in deciding to have children in the first place. It was our way to cookie nirvana. And now I’m selling them behind the water cooler at work.
There are a few of us dealers and we’ve staked out our territory. George on the 9th floor. I’ve got the 3rd. I used to split the floor with Beverly but she ceded me her territory when she left for another job. Just in time. Cookie turf wars can reduce office productivity. The cookies, on the other hand, seem to increase productivity. Good moods and lots of sugar. Projects due in February seem to come in on time and on budget.
What parents won’t go through for their children. Some are even dealing on eBay. You should be ashamed of yourselves. Wish I’d thought of that.
My users are hooked. The orders are taken in mid January and by the first of February people are stopping me in the halls to let me know how much they’re looking forward to those goodies. By the third week in February they’re pulling me aside at meetings and by the end of the month, they’re yelling, “WHERE ARE MY COOKIES?” in the elevators. I can run, but I cannot hide.
Last year was my first in the cookie hood. I was nonchalant. “One day, that’s it,” I told my wife. “I’ll bring the order form to the office for one day and whatever I get, I get.” Bam! Fifty boxes just like that.
To be honest, I can’t understand their allure. After all, they’re not Mrs. Field’s milk chocolate chip. I polled each buyer when they came to pick up their stash and they all agreed: it’s nostalgia (most had sold cookies in their younger years) mixed with limited availability (they’re only sold NOW). Some buy cartons and freeze them for the rest of the year.
I’m happy to support the Girl Scouts (each troop gets a cut of the sales for their own activities). But with childhood obesity such a problem I’d feel a bit better if my daughter was selling something a bit healthier. Building strong bodies verses yummy euphoria. Can I trust you to make the right decision? No, I guess not.
Ok, selling broccoli door-to-door won’t cut it. And I don’t think I’d be as popular as I am this time of the year if it were any other way. But surely we can produce a cookie with a bit less fat and sugar for us parents, I mean, our girls to sell.
There’s a chill in the air but I’ve got my Tagalongs to keep me warm. They’re my real friends. And they’ll be there for me long after my co-workers no longer need me –providing I don’t go through my own booty before I finish writing this post.