One of yesterday's "Top News Stories" on AOL was about a Michigan teen who'd sold a record 17,328 boxes of Girl Scout cookies from a Michigan street corner. Now you'd think people would praise her salesmanship, but not on the Internet. Most of the anonymous comments to this feat were totally off the wall, some practically making this kid sound like a law-breaking crack dealer. Here are some shortened remarks:
"Is that all she sold? Big deal! I ate 18,000 boxes!"
"Did she have a license to peddle on the streets of Detroit?"
"Those lard-laden cookies aren't worth selling or eating. They're full of fat!"
"I thought they were made of Girl Scouts."
"Those cookies are poisonous!"
"It's a wonder she didn't get mugged."
"The Girl Scouts are enslaved to make the rich richer."
"Who the hell is buying that crap?"
"Those cookies are horrible!"
Well, I say more power to that super sales gal. Before I became a Girl Scout drop-out loser, I dreaded selling cookies, 50 cents a box, because no one wanted to buy any and I'd get my feelings hurt. Knocking on doors and delivering the pitch was agony.
Nowadays, I buy everything the Scouts push. Cookies? I'll have a dozen boxes, please. Christmas greenery? You bet! Popcorn? Bring it on! I can't stand to see disappointed faces on my front porch. I feel guilty. I feel like I'm a kid again and another door is being slammed in my pitiful little Girl Scout face. I get all teary-eyed just thinking about it.
The Flaming Bore is a soft touch. Soft--and poor.
"Is that all she sold? Big deal! I ate 18,000 boxes!"
"Did she have a license to peddle on the streets of Detroit?"
"Those lard-laden cookies aren't worth selling or eating. They're full of fat!"
"I thought they were made of Girl Scouts."
"Those cookies are poisonous!"
"It's a wonder she didn't get mugged."
"The Girl Scouts are enslaved to make the rich richer."
"Who the hell is buying that crap?"
"Those cookies are horrible!"
Well, I say more power to that super sales gal. Before I became a Girl Scout drop-out loser, I dreaded selling cookies, 50 cents a box, because no one wanted to buy any and I'd get my feelings hurt. Knocking on doors and delivering the pitch was agony.
Nowadays, I buy everything the Scouts push. Cookies? I'll have a dozen boxes, please. Christmas greenery? You bet! Popcorn? Bring it on! I can't stand to see disappointed faces on my front porch. I feel guilty. I feel like I'm a kid again and another door is being slammed in my pitiful little Girl Scout face. I get all teary-eyed just thinking about it.
The Flaming Bore is a soft touch. Soft--and poor.
2 comments:
That is crazy they left all those comments. Rude. I love those cookies, but if I have them in my house, I will eat them all till they are gone. ;)
That Boy Scout popcorn is an industry in itself. I didn't realize it arrives to the councils in semi-trailer and box-car sized loads until my son became a professional with the Boy Scouts. Since the United Way dropped financial support of Boy Scouts, yes, the Scouts do ver their own leaders and have retained the right to do so, the popcorn sales has been a major fundraiser. I still think we ought to fund things that benefit kids from our taxes and let them have bake sales to fund the wars.
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