Dear Girl Scouts,

I wonder if it comes as a surprise to you that the absolute best customer service I have received in the past umpteen months came in the form of three 8-year-old girls selling cookies.

As I pulled into the Publix parking lot on this chilly central Florida evening, I noticed a table covered in little orange, green, pink and blue boxes. It's almost Valentine's Day, but it might as well have been Christmas, and those boxes of delightfulness might as well have been Christmas presents.

Elated, I grabbed my boyfriend's arm, but he already knew.

"I see them, Carissa.” Even when it comes to Girl Scout cookies, he just has to play it cool.

Ignoring his indifference towards those seasonal flavors of paradise, I said, "We need to get some cash."

As we walked towards the store entrance, one of the young girls sashayed in front of us.

"Would you like to buy some Girl Scout cookies?"

"Yes! Of course we would," I replied, in my most gleeful moment of the week. "I love Girl Scout cookies!"

My boyfriend is an expert when it comes to puncturing my mood, and he informed the young’un that we had to go get cash. She read my mind.

"There's an ATM to the right of the entrance!"

I laughed, and my boyfriend told this little leader of the pack that we'd get some cash inside. Really, as I found out merely moments later, he just wanted to discuss privately how many boxes I was limited to gracing our kitchen with. The girl saw my eagerness to buy and fear of missing out, and in an endearing attempt to restore my confidence, she said, “Don’t worry, we’ll be here when you’re done.”

Inside Publix, my boyfriend confessed his fear that between those three little girls, we’d end up buying the entire table.

“Don’t be silly,” I told him, “They’re just Girl Scouts, they aren’t going to replace all your cash with crumbs or something!”

He chuckled at the allegorical comment. Secretly, I knew (as a former Girl Scout) that those girls were perfectly capable of replacing his cash, but it would be with Thin Mints and Shortbreads, not crumbs.

I hurried him along in the store and within 10 minutes we were outside again, face to face with the Girl Scouts. I quickly picked out a box of Peanut Butter Patties. The leader of the three handed me the box, as I said, jokingly, “These better be good.”

“They’re the best patties around!” she replied, with enthusiasm that I certainly never see from the typical sales person anymore. 

My boyfriend indecisively looked at each box. He asked about the Thanks-A-Lot cookies and the girl pointed to her little colleague and said, "Those are her favorites."

Sensing his hesitation, she politely asked, "Do you like chocolate?"

He nodded.

"Would you like to try a Thin Mint?"

And then he was sold.

But that's not the end of my experience. When we were in Publix, we agreed that we could buy three boxes of Girl Scout cookies. I almost got him to agree to four, but then I made a comment about his receding hairline when we walked past the hair products.

I told the chief girl we were going to get one more box. Each of the three 8-year olds told me their favorites and why they were so tasty. One liked Shortbread, one liked Lemonades, and one liked Shout Outs. I shifted my focus to the one who mentioned Lemonades.

"Those sound interesting," I said.

"They are! If you like Shortbread and you like lemons, then you will like them. They have lemony icing!"

"I'll take them," I said, impressed by her delectably descriptive choice of words.

Five boxes later (yup, you read that right - five), as we walked away, I heard one of the girls say, "She's really pretty, mom."

Now there's some customer service. Make every flavor sound delicious, let my indecisive boyfriend sample the one you've calculated to be his best bet, and then ensure I'll be back in the future by complimenting me.

I plan on driving through that parking lot again tomorrow to see if they're still there.

The Ed Factor

“The Ed Factor.”  It’s the guy who calls you at two in the morning, inebriated, begging you to come over.  You know why.  But he takes you out on dates sometimes, so it doesn’t seem like a booty call. 

He doesn’t call you his girlfriend, but he wants you to act like one behind closed doors.  You know the type.  Ed.  He might even go so far as to introduce you to his family.  That’s when he really gets your hopes up. 

You’re optimistic that things are actually getting better, but then he “forgets” to call you for a week.  Is he really so busy that he can’t even call you for five minutes to let you know that he’s alive? 

He apologizes for being so neglectful and promises to make it up to you.  Your birthday is coming up so you tell him to surprise you.  He says he will. 

At last, your special day rolls around.  You wonder what he has planned.  Dinner at a fancy restaurant?  A show at the theatre?  A relaxing night in with Chinese food and the latest DVD release? 

You have your doubts, but you trust he will take the opportunity to redeem himself.

You begin to lose hope when you have to flick on the light switch in your bedroom because the sun is starting to go down.  Alas, your special day is almost over. 

You jump up eagerly when there is a knock on the door; but your smile quickly fades when you find the menace that the world refers to as your “brother” standing there.    

Scratching himself, he asks, “Want to go out for dinner?  I’m hungry.” 

You could definitely go for some sushi, but you’re sure Ed will show up any minute.   After all, you’ve been waiting around all day.  You realize the time though, so you cave and call him. 

It’s hard to hear him with all of the people talking in the background.  A few minutes into the conversation, when Ed hasn’t mentioned anything about your birthday, you start to doubt that the background noise is because he had planned some sort of epic surprise party in your honor.  You casually remind him what day it is.  His response?

“Oh.  Happy Birthday!  So what did you do for it?”

You finally tell him to screw off because you can’t stand feeling so used anymore.  Then, you find out from his best friend just weeks later that he moved in with another girl.  Ed.  He’s a psycho.

So how are you ever supposed to know if a guy is going to turn out to be crazy?  How do you know he won’t just break your heart?  Isn't there some sort of tangible characteristic, like, side burns or a bowl-cut or something, to distinguish a psycho from a normal guy? 

You wish.  Psychos come in all shapes and sizes, unfortunately.  

I've dealt with many "psycho" men in my life. So have my friends. Of course, my favorite things to talk about are men and food (especially vegetarian), so, I decided that it's time to create a blog, just like everyone else. If you like it, awesome! If not, may your life be full of sweet peas and void of psychos!