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Girl Scout Cookies

Why was I so afraid to ask my neighbors, many who always did order a box or two of Thin Mints, to buy Girl Scout cookies?

By Maggie Doherty

I have to come clean: I dropped out of Girl Scouts in the fourth grade because I didn’t want to sell cookies. Although I’ve always been an outgoing person, going door to door, asking neighbors to purchase boxes of treats made me want to throw up. Actually, asking anyone for anything made me nervous and frightful, and I was terrified whenever my mom asked me to go to our neighbor Ruth’s house to get a cup of sugar, or eggs, or whatever ingredient mom was out of. We lived way out in the country, so it was not feasible for my mom to load my brother and me into the car and drive to the store.

I had no problem going over to Ruth’s house any other time, and, in fact, much of my early childhood was spent at her house, or more accurately, exploring her farm with her three grandsons and my brother. We were sternly instructed to stay out of barns, the tractors, the cattle, and any machinery that could maim us, but otherwise, we were free to roam. Sometimes Ruth fed us lunch, which she called supper, after she fed her husband, son, and the other farm workers. Her kitchen was heavy with the scent of fried meat, and occasionally if we were well behaved (which was not the typical case) she allowed us to have an ice cream sandwich, a treat kept in the deep freeze and delivered by the Schwann man.

So why was I so terrified to run these seemingly innocuous errands for my mom? And why was I so afraid to ask my neighbors, many who always did order a box or two of Thin Mints, to buy Girl Scout cookies? I loved Girl Scouts: between the crafts and the many year-round outdoor adventures, including camping and campfire songs, I could not be happier. Well, truth be told, when my mom was the troop leader, I was not always a happy camper and would often revert to whiny brat mode. Sorry, Mom.

It is not easy to be a salesperson at any age, and I think the relationship changes between neighbors, especially those who are your elders when you have the expectation that they are supposed to buy something from you — even if they likely want their yearly stash of Girl Scout cookies or they really do not mind the three eggs that your mom has already asked for. Or this could all be related to my discomfort with asking for help, a byproduct of my willful independence.

When I learned that participating in the cookie sale was mandatory, that gave me all the ammunition I needed to hang up my sash with the many earned badges sewn on by my mom (thanks, Mom), and found deep relief that I wouldn’t have to make a sales quota or summon the courage to knock on the few doors along Church Road. Or, if you ask my grandmother, my unwillingness to discontinue Girl Scouts after years of being a Daisy and then a Brownie was that, truthfully, I didn’t like to be told what to do.

I’ll come clean about ending my career in Girl Scouts, but I’m not quite sure I’m going to agree with my grandmother. That can’t possibly be it.

Maggie Doherty is the owner of Kalispell Brewing Company on Main Street.