The Day I Was Bossed Around By The Mall Cookie Lady

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When my youngest son was two, I had this conversation outside of a Great American Cookie Company stand at the local mall:

“Little dude, which cookie do you want?”

“Dat wuh”

“No, the rule is that I can’t buy you a cookie bigger than your head. That one is too big.”
 
“Dat wuh.”
 
“I’d like a Big Bite M&M Cookie, please.”
“Just one?”
“Yes, that’s it.”
 
“No more?”
 
“No, ma’am. That’s all I want. Thank you.”
“You don’t want one?”
“No, I just exercised 30 minutes ago.  I don’t want to mess up everything I just did.  No, just one.  Thank you.”
“Oh, HAVE A COOKIE!  Have a cookie! Cookie good for you!”
Willpower diminished in…
 
 
 
3…
 
 
 
2…
 
 
 
1…
 
 
 
“Oh, ALRIGHT.  I’ll have a Pecan Chocolate Chip Cookie”.
“Anyting to drink?”
 
“No, I’m fine.”
 
“Nothing to drink? Cookie so dry. You get thirsty.”
“Ummm, okay. I’ll have a small Diet Coke.”
(This is where I remember the study sent to me yesterday regarding the evil of diet drinks and how I am likely to grow a baby’s arm from my right ear or end up looking like Dooneese somehow if I continue to drink them.  I am hesitant to do what I am supposed to do, which is order water or milk, soooo…..)  

This’d be Dooneese, Kristen Wiig’s SNL character.

“Change that to a small Coke, please”.
“Medium Coke for 99 cent?”
“Mommy, I find us a table?”
“No, dude, you’re 2. No, a small coke, please.”
 
“Oh, medium coke not much more. Small coke go away so fast. Need medium coke to go with cookie.”
 
“Oh, alright already!  A medium Coke”.
 
 
 
 
And then…she said it. She really said it. She said it out loud and she meant it.
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
“You get an extra cookie for you master?”
“Mommy, Mommy, Mommy, Mommy, Mommy, Mommy, Mommy, I wah dah wuh, tooooooo!!!”
“No, little dude.  One is enough.  MY MASTER?”
“Yes, you want an extra cookie for him?  Your master get home so tired.  He work hard.  After long day, he would love extra cookie. He need a cookie, too. Get a cookie for you master.”
 
 
Did she?

Did she really?

Why, yes she did, folks.

She convinced me to buy a medium Coke.

Oh! And she told me to buy a cookie for my master.

This conversation could have continued in many different ways. Fortunately for her, I didn’t get into my Hulk Hogan stance and do the Hulk Hogan dance and give her a big Hulk Hogan kick in the pants. I mean, he does work hard and he does love cookies. I’m all about respecting my man. And he does sleep in the “Master Bedroom” at our house. I’ll give her that.

She just had a unique sales pitch. I don’t think I ended up buying a cookie for him. That is primarily because, despite all the will power I could have mustered for my master, I would have crammed that cookie into my face within 5 seconds of walking away from her. I have no strength against a Great American Cookie Company cookie. They are vicious and delicious.

Sort of like the cookie sales lady, minus the delicious part. Vicious may be a strong term. She was as nice as can be. I bet that company was sad to see her ever leave. They probably made a lot money with her behind the register with her master-talking self.

I bet she left there and started working at the tea company that practically held me up that was situated just a few stores away.

Or perhaps she got a job at a mall kiosk and didn’t realize I had developed a self-defense class against her kind.

Don’t even get me started on those stories.

The only thing that makes me happier than getting bossed around by the cookie lady is hearing what you have to say about it. You can go here to let it all out:

Are you sitting around the Break Room table yet?


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