My daughter isn’t in Girl Scouts, and I’m not gonna lie — it’s because I’m scared. Over the years, I’ve heard tale of cookie selling hell, and I feel like my adrenal glands are already shot as is. The last thing I need is people being pissed at me for being a bad Cookie Mom or embarrassing myself at the Cookie Cupboard (a.k.a., dank warehouse in the middle of nowhere).
I am the, by default, Cookie Chair for my daughter’s Girl Scout Daisy troop. I am also a co-leader. Not one single parent was willing to take on the Cookie challenge. They are all smarter than I took them for. The job is a whole lot of juggling, people trapsing through your house non-stop almost every day for about a month. And because I’m in the state of Colorado, in their infinite wisdom, there are no pre-orders. Just leave it up to the troops to guess at how many boxes they think they can sell and then go door-to-door with the product. While this moves a whole bunch more cookies, it sucks logistically. We have 3 weeks left of cookie sales and Wednesday is the last day we can return any factory sealed cases. Anything open you are stuck with. But this really isn’t about that craziness. It is about what has transpired whenever it has come to me picking up more cookies from the “Cookie Cupboard.”
After our original order, I have had to make the 20 minute drive to the next town over for more cookies four times. That is four times in two weeks! Each and every single time has been an utter disaster. Or at least it ends up making me look like a complete and utter disaster as a Mom and person. On our first trip, both kids are antsy, they touch EVERYTHING. Not that there is much to touch, just a folding table with pamphlets and cookie materials. Jelly slams hand in front door, Cookie, knocks all the stuff off the table. Both almost get run over, cause near cookie collision with the dolly moving cookies out the door to waiting cars. And just as they are ready to load the goods, Cookie announces she has to pee. Like “I NEED TO GO NOW!!!” The workers are awesome, allow us to use their restroom. I have to send her in alone, as I have the car being loaded with cookies, and Jelly is strapped in. She swears she washed and flushed. I’m not sold.
Second trip to Cupboard. My password will not work. Line out the door. Other Cookie Moms shifting on their feet, sighing, my kids running around screaming at each other. “She POKED ME.” Scream, scream, cry. Me, desperately trying to get password to work. No dice, system has locked me out. Finally, guy feels bad, knows me from the last trip, just gives me the cookies and sends me on my way. I think the other parents cheered when I left. Or at least in their heads they did. I know I needed a drink.
Third trip. This time I am not letting these kids in the store. I make them use the restroom before leaving the house. I inform them that they can play in the car while I get the cookie order. The mini-van is parked right outside. Another long wait for cookies. Kids start laying on the car horn. Like a constant, “Honk, Honk, Honk, HOOOOONK, Honk.” I wave from the door. Cookie waves back. I assume they are just being a pain because it is taking so long. Finally, order is complete, workers officially hate me. Cookies are loaded, phew we are out of there. I get home, I am unloading the 25 cases of cookies when I notice, our port-a-potty is missing it’s baggie. And there is the baggie next to it, tied up. I think, “NOOO, NOOOO, NOOO, NOOOOO!” Yell inside to the kids, “did someone use the potty in the car?” Cookie responds, “Oh that was me, I had to poopy.” In my head I am now screaming, “YOU CAN NOT FUCKING BE KIDDING ME!!!!AGAIN!!! WTF IS WRONG WITH THIS KID?” But, then I am proud that Cookie came up with a solution to her umm dilemma. She used the port-a-potty and cleaned herself and it up nicely. I just wish she would have told me about it. I mean I could have had a poop bag in the back of the car forever! Thank God the cookies were no where near it. She kept the bag neatly tucked into the corner, and blocked it with buckets. This kid is pretty smart sometimes.
Fourth trip. I now have to bring kids in thanks to last trip. I allow them to each bring one toy. Instead, they end up practicing Jui-jit-su on the floor and pretending that their stuffed animals have to pee. There is the sound of, “sshhhssshhhhshhh” as they pretend their animals are peeing and peeing and peeing. Thank God my password works. The other parents are really nice about it this time. Staff still hates me.
I have one more trip for one more booth sale. I need to stock up on wine.