Thanks but hands off my order of Girl Scout cookies

The only bright spot of winter is the sale of Girl Scout cookies. After Christmas, it’s just one long stretch of cold weather and clothes that make me look puffier than normal.

My daughter will join Girl Scouts. She’s joining for the cookies. All that self-esteem stuff will just be a bonus.

Two years ago, there was very nearly a Cookie Tragedy in the Collins household. I had to call the Girl Scout Authorities. Oh yes, I did. Help yourself to a Thin Mint and let me share.

The neighbor girl came to sell me cookies. I was so excited to learn she was a Girl Scout and was my cookie hookup! No longer would I have to go to the Walmart parking lot weeks after everyone else had purchased cookies. Now this girl would just hand-deliver boxes of deliciousness to me.

The first thing to be wary about: Be suspicious when a Girl Scout asks you to prepay for your cookies. Be wary when she says she doesn’t know who to make the check out to, so just make it out to her. In my excitement, I just wrote that check out, no questions asked.

The second thing to be wary about: Be suspicious when all of your co-workers, family members and friends have not only received their cookies but had the chance to eat them. Be suspicious when the cookie stand at Walmwart has come and gone and you still haven’t gotten your cookies from the neighbor girl. Also, feel free at this point to be a little cranky. Where the HELL were my Thin Mints? My Tagalongs?

Another week or two passed and still, no neighbor girl tripping up my driveway with cookies. So, I did what any rational person would do. I called the authorities. The Girl Scout Authorities. I had a crime to report. An innocent-looking girl peddling cookies came to my door, took a cookie order in good faith, made off with my $30 check, CASHED THE DAMN CHECK, and never brought me any cookies.

I was naturally distraught. I needed comforting. You know what would have been comforting? A friggin’ Girl Scout cookie. At this point, I would have settled for those ridiculous Do-Si-Dos which taste like peanut butter-smeared cardboard.

The Girl Scout Authority was very crisp when I explained my problem. “I’ll take care of this right away, ma’am,” she said. I appreciated her crispness and her stern-sounding voice. It sent chills up my spine.

It must have sent chills up the spines of the troop leader and the girl’s mother, too, because within 15 minutes, here came the girl to my door, her arms laden with a heavy box. Not only did I get my original cookie order, I got about four more boxes of freebie cookies. (Thankfully no Do-Si-Dos.)

I was sweet. “Thank you so much! Come see me next year!”

“Uh-huh,” she mumbled, and then ran to the driveway where her mother was waiting, arms crossed.

And then 10 minutes after that, I got a call from the troop leader, who apologized profusely. I was kind, understanding. After all, I had my cookies now. I could afford to be gracious as I licked the chocolate from my fingers, remnants of the Samoas.

Thankfully, last year, I got hooked up with a new Girl Scout. She came to my door, refused money up front, said in a very polite voice, “Thank you for supporting Girl Scouts,” and promptly delivered my cookies. I hope that girl got a badge for great customer service.

And this year, of course, the Girl Scouts are selling on the spot, so once you write your check you get your cookies. I like to think I had a hand in this policy change.

You’re welcome, America.

Kami Collins lives in Delta with her daughter and her infinitely patient husband. Although she consistently causes her mother and grandmother embarrassment over her writing, her main focus each day is to not offend people too often. She can be contacted at .(JavaScript must be enabled to view this email address), unless you are offended, and then you can contact your mom. Or contact her mother, and you can bond over your displeasure.


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