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Cookie Girls
By Bill Zahren
(Posted 04/21/99)
Just when you think you're well on your way
to the kind of summer Speedo/bikini body you've dreamed about,
they show up. The sashed ones. Beanies, merit badges, pig-tailed
hair -- striking. They come bearing calories. Little discs
your body will quickly metabolize into globules of fat to
nest on your waist and butt.
Girl Scouts. They're everywhere. They come around
with their wee beady eyes, looking innocent, "Oh you're going
to buy our cookies." Don't let the ruffled exterior of a 10-year-old
girl mislead you. She's a cunning businessgirl. Shrewd in
the art of competition.
She's got the hot product, and she knows it.
Mostly the girls just show up at clients' doors. We just scream
"ten boxes of thin mints and a case of caramel deLites" and
then fling cash and checks at them until they skip down the
driveway. At least you know your neighbor will be next, his
willpower slain by the peanut butter sandwich sniper or the
shortbread artillery.
The cookies started arriving in Sioux City last
weekend. My little scout sales associate, Grace, who lives
on the other side of the block, delivered the boxes of goodness
to my front door on Saturday. My wife, daughters and I went
for the cookies like sharks go for chum.
I can eat a box of thin mints, the Queen of
all Girl Scout Cookies, in five minutes, pausing only for
periodic burps. My fellow PR operative, Molly, used to do
PR for the Girl Scouts. Molly says it's even nuttier inside
the operation as the cookie colossus awakes every year. You
can actually buy Girl Scout cookies all year where Molly used
to work. You'd get people like me driving up in the middle
of the day, wearing big coats, boots and Ray-Bans. "I need
a box of thin mints, man," I'd say to the counter woman. "Just
something to get me through the night. Come on, I know you're
holding out on me. Just one box. I'll give you $50. I'm not
a cop, I swear."
Cookie junkies. Nothing even approaching pretty.
OK, here's the deal. You can buy thin mints at most any store
most any day. Virtually the same exact cookie. You could never
tell Girl Scouts thin mints from the knock-off grocery store
kind in a taste test. But, everyone still gets frothed about
Girl Scout cookies this time of year. You don't see my wife
coming home from Hy-Vee screaming, "The cookies are HERE!"
And I never bolt out of my chair and launch myself over the
front porch railing to tackle the delivery girl for Acme Mint
Patties.
Why? Spell it with me: B-R-A-N-D. Girl Scout
cookies have a killer brand. It all started in 1917 (according
to info on www.girlscouts.org)
when scouts baked cookies at home and then moved the merchandise
in the local high school cafeteria. In 1934 the girls in Philly
took it to The Next Level and started selling commercially
baked cookies. Hell hath no fury than a New York Girl Scout
when it comes to marketing, so the Girl Scout Federation of
Greater New York got nutty in 1935, contracted with a commercial
baker, bought their own die and started putting "Girl Scout
Cookies" on their boxes.
Sixty-five years later, Girl Scout Cookies®
is a branding titan. I bow and scrape before their marketplace
prowess. Stop random people on the street and say, "Girl Scout
Cookies" to them and I bet they start drooling. Unaided awareness
(the ability to name a brand in a category without any hints)
for Girl Scout Cookies probably hovers around 99 percent.
(There are always some cave dwellers who never heard of anything.)
It's so powerful that people actually get upset if they MISS
THE SALE.
Why does their brand rock? 'Cause the cookies
taste good. They come once a year. The girls make a big deal
about moving the product. The scouts have been doing it every
year for about 80 years and protected their brand image along
the way. Their boxes have a distinctive look. And people who
buy them know it helps Girl Scouts, a brand in its own right
with virtually no negative connotations. You get the great
cookies. You get to deal with cute and enthusiastic sales
people. You get the warm fuzzy of having part of your money
go to the Girl Scouts activities. And, you get a kick out
of being part of an American tradition. All for a measly $3
a box in my town.
That, baby, is a branding home run. Make that
a grand slam SMASH. Such a towering blast the outfielders
don't even move. They know it's outta here right off the bat.
Touch 'em all, Girl Scouts. I love the Girl Scouts.
(I was just kidding about their wee beady eyes.
They're actually quite lovely.) I also need a thin mint to
quell this branding jealousy. What's another mile or two on
the stationary bike and 10 or 20 more sets of shoulder presses?
It's for a good cause.
© 1999 Bill Zahren
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