Conversation is an art and those who can coax conversation out of others are curators. Truly connecting with another person is one of the greatest gifts we can give ourselves. Personally, I am not one for small talk, unless you want to discuss birds or the weather, for I am—in my head—both an ornithologist (despite having to Google the spelling) and a meteorologist. In higher stakes conversations, I’ve also been an epidemiologist and a US Constitutional scholar, but I’m hoping that we’re largely going to leave those conversations in the early ‘20s.
Anyway, if you, as a curator of conversation, want to engage me, hit me with the following question:
What stupid, low-stakes person/place/thing are you mad about today, Jen?
Thank you! I’m so glad you asked.
Today, I’m angry at Girl Scout cookies.
A week ago, I got a text from my friend Gina. She said her esthetician’s cute little kid was selling Girl Scout cookies and if we wanted to order, she was including the link.
Of course I lost my mind over this.
My thoughts on Girl Scout cookie sales are extensive to the point that they’re housed in the Library of Congress. But, if you’ve never read my books, or you last looked at Pretty in Plaid, like, fifteen years ago, here goes.
In the ‘70s, I lived in a middle class suburb of Bergenfield, New Jersey. In retrospect, it was likely lower middle class as our house was so small, only one person could be in the kitchen at a time and we had a single bathroom. Also, we lived next door to a guy who drove a truck for a dairy. He’d park it under my bedroom window and the generator for the refrigeration ran loudly all night. But he gave us free yogurt, so this was a selling point for the entire family.
We lived one block away from Teaneck, a ritzy suburb. Three doors down from us, our street dead-ended, I imagine because fine people of Teaneck wanted to keep the Bergenfield riff-raff and dairy trucks out of their town. But it was easy enough to get there. I just had to go down one street and take a right. (Try to keep me out of the better neighborhoods, I dare you. I’ll always find a way.)
My point is, when it came time to sell Girl Scout cookies, I quickly learned that my lower middle class neighbors were frugal and they’d buy a single box, if I were lucky. Being a budding entrepreneur (another word I always have to Google, despite writing an entire client’s book on the subject), I thought, Why don’t I try selling my cookies to rich people?
So I took myself to Teaneck and ended up selling more cookies than anyone in my troop, an honor that earned me an impressive patch to sew on my sash. These people were buying 5-6 boxes apiece. What would it be like to have that sort of disposable income?, I wondered.
Now, here’s what makes me mad about the Girl Scout system today.
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