“No Solicitation” are the two words that appear on a gold sign near the entrance of our development. This sign serves a warning for bible beaters, painters, magazine pushers, landscapers, tree huggers with their never ending petitions and boys with mediocre popcorn to not knock on our doors. Clearly, no one in these particular groups can read, and at least once a week, someone wants to trim my hedges, paint my house, have me advocate for the pursuit of more alternative energy resources or pray to their God.
“Thank you for stopping by, but I am not interested,” I say as I quickly shut the door.
I do this repeatedly until the day when my favorite solicitor arrives at our door.
I open the door happily and say, “I thought you would never arrive.”
The three and half foot tall girl clad in a brown polyester vest adorned with bright colored patches stares as me as she starts adding dollar signs in her head.
“Ma’am would you like eight boxes of Thin Mints again this year.”
“I think this year I need to increase my order to nine boxes of Thin Mints, six boxes of Samoas®, and six boxes of Tagalongs® and two boxes of Do-si-dos®.”
“Would you like to write your check now or when I deliver them,” she asks.
“I’ll write it now."
As I write my check. I start to feel guilty, thinking about all the starving people in villages that I could help feed. My remorse quickly dissipates when I realize that cookies would be detrimental to someone suffering from malnutrition. So instead, I start thinking about hiding places for the Thin Mints. (The top selling Girl Scout Cookie with 25-percent of sales. My husband’s favorite Samoas® are close behind with 19-percent of sales.)
This is pretty much our routine every year. I buy a ridiculous amount of cookies, hide them in my closet and sock drawer, and eat Thin Mints for all three meals. I don’t worry about the extra calories too much because I remove fruit, vegetables, eggs, and all sources of dairy and protein from my diet. While I enjoy my round, crumbly mint-flavored meals, my husband swears we’ll never buy Girl Scout Cookies again.
“They pimp those girls out, I am telling you. They use little girls to make money,” argues my husband every year. “It should be about the kids and not about a CEO making $500,000 off the shoulders of children.” In actuality the CEO of the Girls Scouts of America makes $453,000 as reported by a Dallas television station in May 2010.
I must agree the executives at Girl Scouts of America could be called Cookie Madams for raking in big salaries while, “Nationwide, girls receive an estimated 10 – 20% of the purchase price of each box of cookies sold as proceeds,” according to the organization’s own website. Considering that cookies generate over $700 million in sales annually that seems like a miniscule cut for such hardworking scouts.
Perhaps I should be more outraged, but I will not allow any semblance of a social conscience hinder my enjoyment of the happiest time of year, Girl Scout Cookie Season.
Merry Thin Mints and Happy Samoas® to you.
