stockpiling thin mints

the whole girl scout cookie thing is an amusing phenomenon to me. the cookies hit the market once a year. they don’t taste that great and are rather expensive at $4/box. yet, no matter how full my cookie jar already is, what diet i am on, or how much i am saving up for my next vacation, i seem to find myself with at least one box of thin mints on my desk.

selling them most certainly has changed since the days that i donned my kelly-green sash, plastered with merit-badges. that was long before chalet cremes were retired, back when peanut butter sandwich cookies were still called do-si-dos, and caramel de-lites hadn’t even been born as samoas. i woke up early every morning for two weeks. i pounded the pavement in my neighborhood. i went door to door before and after school. i had an ambitious quota of 50 boxes, and i met it.

i never relied on my parents as sales reps in his office, but these days, it’s perfectly acceptable to use mom or dad as a cookie distributor, guilting co-workers into bulk purchases. i’ve gotten the emails. i’ve seen the signs in the break-room. i know exactly which of my co-workers have elementary school-aged daughters. surfing the web, i found a funny write-up on sfgate about cookies and office politics.

today, i’d be surprised if 50 boxes was even a modest goal. it’s almost like it would be an embarrassment to the troop if they didn’t sell 50 boxes a day. it’s made for some very enterprising young ladies, using every sly sales approach, every guerilla marketing tactic, filling up every sales channel. innocent people, stopping at the market only to pick up a head of lettuce and a pack of gum, find themselves walking back to their cars laden with green, turquoise, and yellow boxes of cookies. proctor&gamble could learn a lesson or two about branding, sales, and marketing from the girl scouts.

but, it’s a love-hate thing, really. people put their heads down, look the other way, when they see that card table in front of the market with neat little stacks of cookie boxes. they roll their eyes when bob from engineering saunters over to their cubicles with an order sheet and that expectant look in his eye. they don’t want to buy. but why does it somehow turn into a buying frenzy? like tickle-me elmo at christmas time three years ago? why will there be two boxes of thin mints and two boxes of trefoils in my freezer by the end of the week? why will i secretly feel relieved that i have a stockpile?!?!

damn those girl scouts.

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  • Anonymous

    I don’t ever feel comfortable unless I know I have a roll of thin mints stocked away in my freezer.
    -Eve

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