I would like to join Girl Scouts again, because I could sell the hell out of those cookies.
I still remember my first cookie selling experience. I was eleven-years-old, and thrilled to sell cookies for the first time. I stood in front of Stater Brothers grocery store in Southern California, encouraging people to buy the “best cookies in the world.”
I wasn’t attractive . . .kids actually went through awkward, ugly stages in those days, unlike the Stepford kids of today. I had teeth that looked miscast in my face — looming large, lapping over each other, with fangs (called eye-teeth) peeking out of my gums.
My hair was stringy and slightly greasy, and my Girl Scout uniformed had suffered chewing by a goat at what was eventually labelled “the unfortunate petting-zoo incident.”
But I could sell some cookies. I sold more than that Troop Leader’s daughter. The boxes flew into the hands of customers. I rocked the cookie world.
And I could sell even more today. Why?
- Because I wouldn’t stand in front of the grocery store. I would stand in front of the Zumba workout session for women over fifty.
- I would use subliminal messaging: “Going to [Thin Mint] Zumba class? Good for [Thin Mint] you! I admire [Samoa] your discipline!”
- I would wrap the boxes in paper that showed broccoli and carrots.
- I would offer a safe place to eat the cookies, a small booth with a curtain, where no one else could enter.
- I would have weight scales in the booth, set 10 lbs below normal, and let the women weigh themselves after eating.
- I would offer stickers they could wear when they left, saying, “I ate a box of cookies after Zumba class and lost weight so screw you!”