A/N

While this isn't a true story, it was inspired by something that actually happened. I was selling cookies in Fred Meyer, and I hadn't been doing to well. A young girl and her grandmother were leaving the store. The girl say me, and turned to her grandma. They had a hushed conversation, and the little girl walked up to me.

"Do you take donations?" she asked, a little shy, and yet, seeming bold at the same time. In her hand was a small assortment of change.

"Sure," I answered.

The girl dropped her handful of coins into my hand, and hurried back to her grandmother.

"Thank you!" I called after her as they left.

So, while this story doesn't actually have much in common with that besides selling Girl Scout Cookies, they are rooted in the same thing. Kindness. That little girl made my day, even if she was only giving a few coins. She was giving, she was kind. That's what mattered. So this story is dedicated to that girl, where ever she is now. Thank you. 

"Hi, would you like to buy Girl Scout Cookies?" I give the standard pleasant smile and ask the same question I've been asking for two and a half hours.  The woman walks past be briskly without a word, no sign of acknowledgment. 

Next person, a tall, balding man probably somewhere in his mid-fifties. He sees me , and quickly adopts the standard "I'm busy taking an important call on my phone" trick. The thing is, his phone case isn't flipped open. 

I sigh. Business is slow, as usual. So far, I've sold ten boxes of cookies in the time I've been standing outside of this grocery store door. The cover above does nothing to protect against the diagonally falling rain.

Whoosh, wind whips through the air and past my little folding table, sending already battered cookie boxes tumbling to the ground. Again. I step and out from behind the table to pick them up, but someone else's hand is already placing a box of Tagalongs back in my display. The hand is weathered and lined, yet still stead and sure. The old woman  smiles as we continue to pick up the fallen boxes. 

"Thank you," I say when they're all back in their places. 

"My pleasure," the lady replies. "Why are you outdoors in this weather?"

"Management doesn't want us inside, says it uses their space," I explain.

"They don't know what it's like, eh?" She says.

"Well, the don't have to let us sell here if they don't want to."

"Business good?" The woman asks.

"Not so great," I say with a sigh. 

"Well, you get days like that," she tells me. "I remember when I was a Girl Scout. Long time ago." She chuckles. "Ah, to be young. You kids don't appreciate it as much as you should. Though I suppose I was the same way when I was your age. If you can imagine me ever being your age." She laughs again, softly.

I'm not quite sure what to say now. Conversation has been my forte. 

The woman keeps talking. "And once in a while, there would be that one person who comes along and brightened my day. They were kind, took the time to help me out, and then bought loads of cookies," she remembers with a sad smile. "When I saw people who would ignore me, I promised myself I would never be like that when I was older."

She stops, glances at me, at all the cookies I haven't sold. and then asks, "How long are you going to be here?"

"I have to leave in ten minutes," I reply. "I might just leave now though, not much point in staying." 

"I'll take those cookies," she says.

"Which kind would you like?" I ask her.

"I'll take 'em," she says again, sweeping her hand over the boxes of Do-Si-Dos, Thin Mints, Samoas, Trefoils, and Tagalongs. 

"All of them?" I question. Maybe I missed something she said.

"Yes, all of them," she answers. 

I grin widely and pack up the cookies as she adds:

"Oh, and keep the change."