Tis the season for those little brats who come to our doors and tempt us with those addictive chocolate/coconut/caramel cookies, those better-when-frozen chocolate/mint wafers, and those I-could-eat-1000 oatmeal peanut butter sandwiches. But I’m allowed to call them “brats” because I was one of those brats.
I think it’s kind of ironic that I went into business school after my lack of entrepreneurial prowess in the Girl Scout cookie trade. I always capitalized on my mom and dad bringing the order form into work and getting their co-workers to support their hard-working Girl Scout daughter. But walking around in the cold, knocking on doors, and having conversations with people I would otherwise never talk to? Yeah, that didn’t sound so fun.Read More