Student Spotlight: The Girl Scout Who Verbally Harassed Me

Women in Business recently sponsored Girl Scouts to sell cookies in the John Pappajohn Business Building. Due to my deep love for feminism and desire to support some little girls selling overpriced cookies, I eagerly darted to the business building to spend my paycheck on boxes I’d eat in a day.

I arrived and, for some reason, I was surprised to see actual little girls behind the table. I don’t know, like, how old you have to be to age out of the Girl Scouts, but I guess I expected to see college-aged women selling cookies. It was at 11 am, it would’ve been the middle of the school day. I don’t know! Get off my ass!

So anyway, I gleefully approached the table, ready to be a willing practice dummy in these girls’ introduction to being a wage slave cashier at McDonald’s.

I began to inform the girls how excited I was to hear that they were there that day, but I was cut off by an older woman standing behind them. She wore an old girl scout uniform that appeared to be many decades old and far too small for her.

“Boxes are six dollars,” she said, and not in a very kind tone. She was quite snarky. She wore the traditional Girl Scout uniform, but appeared to be at least 40 years old (and hideous). Maybe there was no maximum age! I was, however, confused why she felt the need to snap at me while I was trying to have a conversation with these two adorable girls.

Refusing to acknowledge this horrible introduction, I continued to look at the girls and I said, “Do you take cash?” because I wasn’t sure how much I had on me.

One of the girls nearly opened her mouth when the creature behind them shouted, “We take card or Venmo!”

I was unsure what I did to offend this woman from my apparently ridiculous question. Also, who would I be Venmoing? These little girls? I don’t even think they were old enough to have phones. Back in my day you signed a spreadsheet and would see your cookies in 12-52 weeks!

“So no cash?” I said.

Again, one of the girls attempted to respond, but she was interrupted by an over-dramatic sigh from the hag behind her. She must’ve already had enough of me. “We obviously take cash,” she said.

How foolish of me. Regardless, I refused to acknowledge this woman, and I perused the cookies.

Once I made my selection, I looked at the girls and said with a smile, “I’ll take a box of these,” pointing to Thin Mints, “and a box of these, please,” pointing to the newly introduced cookies, the Adventurefuls.

One of the girls dared to respond, but the goblin interjected, “That’ll be twelve dollars!”

I was taken aback from her raising her voice at me while I was trying to give her my money. Thanks, I thought. Couldn’t do that math myself. The girls even had a calculator beside them just in case, not that they’d need it because I could tell just by looking at them that they were proficient AS FUCK when it comes to adding and subtracting. But, noooo! This broad felt the need to do it for them! There wasn’t even a line! Maybe I’d understand if I was holding people up, but I was the only motherfucker wanting cookies! Had there not been two innocent girls trying to get real-world cashier experience on their sashes, I would’ve gone elsewhere to get far better and reasonably priced cookies.

All I had was a twenty. “Do you have change?” I asked, knowing they’d say yes, and almost certain they’d know how much I’m supposed to get back.

“Your change is eight dollars,” the fossil said.

I KNOW!!!!!! I FUCKING KNOW!!!! BUT I DON’T KNOW IF THESE LITTLE GIRLS KNOW!!!! I’M TRYING TO MAKE THIS A LEARNING FUCKING EXPERIENCE FOR THEM!!!!! LET THEM DO THE FUCKING MATH!!!!! LET THEM GET A FUCKING WORD IN, HOW ABOUT THAT?!?!?!?!?!

I managed to maintain my composure and not leap over the table and choke this woman out with the sash hanging over her shoulder. Her sash, by the way, was full of patches! These two little girls had near-empty sashes. I think I know why! This goddamn leech is stealing all the patches!!!!

After grabbing my change and my boxes, I leaned toward the girls and whispered, “You two have a wonderful day,” because I wouldn’t wish that fucking cunt even a halfway-decent day over my dead body.

Moral of the story: be careful when speaking with middle-aged Girl Scouts.

I watched Talladega Nights while I ate those Thin Mints.