I love the Girl Guides, I even used to be one. And cookies, oh yes, count me in! But I won't buy Girl Guide Cookies.
First of all they are exactly the kind of additive-loaded artificially flavoured garbage that I avoid like the plague. Now I will cheerfully chomp down on something not entirely wholesome if it tastes fantastic and/or makes me feel really good for a brief time. The cookies don't do that. They provide an instant sweet-and-yuck hangover.
I used to buy them anyway because I felt guilty any time someone drove all the way up to my rural abode. Likewise with the well-meaning folk who go around canvassing "For Cancer". Should that not be Against Cancer? These days they get sent away empty-handed, with a polite brief explanation. I refuse to spend another dime on the established big disease charities. We digress and anyway I covered that topic.
If the little darlings showed up with home-made chocolate chip cookies or held a bake sale I would be glad to partake. But I guess that is too risky. And heaven forbid they might have to do something themselves. No, they get driven around by parents and sell a factory-made product. May I ask in what way this is character building?
Would you believe what we used to do in my long-ago far-away girl guide days? Now I sound like a curmudgeonly old timer going on about the Depression. But seriously, this happened.
We had an action called "heitje voor een karweitje", roughly translated as "two bits for a chore".
During an assigned week in early spring, probably the Easter Vacation, Scouts and Guides all over the Netherlands would knock on doors in the neighborhood and offer their services in return for a small donation, typically $0,25.
I was a shy socially awkward child and hated it with a passion at the time. Usually some of my mothers friends would allow me to do their dishes, just so I could meet the minimum face-saving requirement. It would have been easier to come up with things to do in the country.
If any local Girl Guides want to come around in spring and give me a hand on the land, I will be glad to donate.
P.S. I don't remember any warnings about child molesters lurking behind every door.
First of all they are exactly the kind of additive-loaded artificially flavoured garbage that I avoid like the plague. Now I will cheerfully chomp down on something not entirely wholesome if it tastes fantastic and/or makes me feel really good for a brief time. The cookies don't do that. They provide an instant sweet-and-yuck hangover.
I used to buy them anyway because I felt guilty any time someone drove all the way up to my rural abode. Likewise with the well-meaning folk who go around canvassing "For Cancer". Should that not be Against Cancer? These days they get sent away empty-handed, with a polite brief explanation. I refuse to spend another dime on the established big disease charities. We digress and anyway I covered that topic.
If the little darlings showed up with home-made chocolate chip cookies or held a bake sale I would be glad to partake. But I guess that is too risky. And heaven forbid they might have to do something themselves. No, they get driven around by parents and sell a factory-made product. May I ask in what way this is character building?
Would you believe what we used to do in my long-ago far-away girl guide days? Now I sound like a curmudgeonly old timer going on about the Depression. But seriously, this happened.
We had an action called "heitje voor een karweitje", roughly translated as "two bits for a chore".
During an assigned week in early spring, probably the Easter Vacation, Scouts and Guides all over the Netherlands would knock on doors in the neighborhood and offer their services in return for a small donation, typically $0,25.
I was a shy socially awkward child and hated it with a passion at the time. Usually some of my mothers friends would allow me to do their dishes, just so I could meet the minimum face-saving requirement. It would have been easier to come up with things to do in the country.
If any local Girl Guides want to come around in spring and give me a hand on the land, I will be glad to donate.
P.S. I don't remember any warnings about child molesters lurking behind every door.
