Operation GSC

The head of my division at work (basically the president of our company-within-a-company) puts out an order form for girl scout cookies every year on behalf of his daughter. Now when I was a little girl and my dad was a manager in his company and I asked him to take in the order form for my Campfire Girls whatever-we-were-selling-that-year, he always said no, because it would unfairly pressure his employees. To which I can now say, bull-hockey! The way most of us view it, this way we can buy girl scout cookies AND suck up to the boss, all in one fell swoop!

In short, I will admit it: I bought girl scout cookies. But it’s not because I’m weak. It’s because I’m focusing on job advancement.

Doesn’t that sound better?

Anyway, he put the form out and I thought to my self, “Self, do you want some girl scout cookies?” To which my self loudly answered, “YES!” “Alright,” I said to my self, “How many shall we get?” “Well,” said my self to me, “There are two kinds of cookies we like…and they’re some of the only non-chocolate specialty/really delcious cookies that come out all year, so how ’bout two boxes of each? I mean…how ’bout 2 boxes of each, that would look good to your boss!.” “You make a very good point, self,” I said. “I wonder if the hubby would like any?” The hubby assured me that there were two types of cookies that he really liked, too. “Well,” I thought to my self, I can’t buy me two boxes each and him one! Better get two boxes of each for him, too.” To which my self nodded seriously. So I ordered.

Fast forward several weeks. The cookies have come in. And unlike last year, when our awesome receptionist offered to deliver them to all of us at our desks (she sadly left for Arizona, no more cookie deliveries), yesterday my boss sent out an e-mail letting us know they were in and telling us to stop by his desk and pick them up, while dropping off our check.

Well crap.

My office is on the 4th and 5th floor of a high rise building. I work on the 5th floor. My boss works waaaaay down on the 4th floor. Down a set of wooden stairs which reverberate quite loudly when one is wearing heels, letting the whole office know I HAVE ARRIVED! Also, living in the Puget Sound, everyone is a hippy pretty health-conscious.

Now, I have 8 boxes of cookies waiting for me downstairs. EIGHT. That is a towering stack of girl scout cookie boxes. Getting them up to my desk un-remarked will take careful planning and execution.

So I waited.

Aaaaall day yesterday…

Most of today….

And finally, at 3:45 today, I struck! While downstairs helping a coworker, I glanced at my boss’s cube and noticed he wasn’t there. Not only that, much of the office was gone for the day! I’d already made my loud entrance down the stairs, and it was awhile ago. Perfect!

I nonchalantly stroll into his cube and glance at the order form. Yup. Definitely 8 boxes. No one may know I’m here now, but it’s a loooong, exposed walk back to my cube. So the brilliant part of my brain kicks in. Only take 4! That’s still a lot, but not unreasonable, especially if I explain some are for the hubby. Glancing around, I carefully pull out four boxes and saunter up the stairs, Mission Impossible theme song playing in my head.

I make it back to my desk, heart racing, safely unseen! Well, I think, that went well, why not go get the others? Besides, we’re supposed to cross our name off the order form when we take them, I don’t want him to notice a discrepency in his cookie amounts and start asking uncomfortable questions. So I pound down the stairs (nonchalantly, I assure you) back to his cube, check in hand. I write out the check, drop it in the envelope, and grab my remaining four boxes, and casually return to my desk. Success!

BUT WAIT! Now I have 8 boxes of cookies sitting at my desk! There’s no way I can get them all home tonight, and even if there was, there’s still time before I have to leave and some very tease-happy coworkers nearby! My cubical is totally exposed, the space under my desk is clearly visible, my bookshelf is clearly visible, there are no corners to tuck things behind! Where can I put them??

Looking around my cubicle in a panic, I seize on a solution.

My brilliant solution

(sorry it’s sideways…)

This is the only space in my office that can be closed off.

I am a genius. A genius full of delicious cookies.

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