less than three words

We all simultaneously look forward to and dread the end of winter for one obvious reason: it’s when the Girl Scouts come out. I was getting antsy, living in New York without any friends or family in the area with children. I knew it was time to order the cookies, but I couldn’t sniff out a a connection. I was on the verge of posting a notice in the company break room, accusing my colleagues of having daughters and inflicting depraved indifference upon their fellow editors by holding out on bringing in their Brownies’ order forms, when my favorite co-worker sent out an email informing a small handful of employees that for the next thirty minutes she would be taking orders for  Girl Scout cookies.

Marathon runners coldn’t sprint as fast as I did to her desk–at least not in 4-inch heels, dodging through the obstacle course of cublicles from my office to hers.

Naturally I ordered my ususal six boxes, and I acquiesced for a seventh so I could try the new Dulce de Leche (not worth it).

So what is it about Girl Scout cookies that makes us so crazy for them? I know I’m not the only one who joneses for Samoas and Do-Si-Dos. My big sis told me, in reference to not-for-profits asking for support in front of drug stores and the like, ” I see vets and disabled people asking for donations and I’m like, ‘psh, get real: I’m broke.’ And then I see those Girl Scouts and I’m like, ‘YES PLEASE, HOW MANY BOXES DO YOU HAVE!?’” And evert ime I share with someone the picture of the Girl Scout Cookie warehouse with thousands of boxes of cookies, their first instinct is to steal them. (Clearly not an original idea.)

What’s interesting is that in most of the rest of the world, Girl Scouts hang out in front of Wallgreenses and Rite Aids, hoping to panhandle their addictive substances to you even after the pre-ordering season has ended. In New York City, such is not the case! I have seen nary a Brownie standing curbside, asking if you want a score. Strangely enough, if you need your fix in the Big Apple, you need to know where to go, which , from the sounds of it is a building on the west side that’s only open for a few hours every day. You then have to know the secret knock, shake the left hand of the correct man (Pablo, the one with the eye patch), you have to execute a double pirouette, then recite the entire Gettysburg Address backwards. Actually I think you have to go to Girl Scout’s Headquarters on 23rd Street, but that too seems pretty complicated!

I digress.

The point is, these sweet little biscusts are a rare commodity in New York , which means the street value of each box is likely more than it’s front cost. A savvy entrepreneuer may just buy in bulk, then sell on craigslist for a small profit. The potential for this market is huge, which only proves my point: Girl Scout cookies are no less addictive that crack, and therefore should be a substance that is controlled by the federal government, lest I eat my weight in Samoas and lose the bikini body I’ve been working so hard for all winter. (I write this as I finish the las of the Dulce de Leches. Hey, the only reason they lasted as long as they did is they realy aren’t as good as I was hoping for.)