(or at least give them a donation)
One of Mommy's Laws of the Universe is that if a Scout, entrepreneur, Brownie, ballerina, band member, hockey player, debater, whatever asks you to buy cookies, popcorn, lemonade, wrapping paper, chocolate bars, magazines... do it. If you genuinely do not like the product, only buy one thing. If the product looks dodgy (what, exactly, is that in the lemonade?), give a donation. And listen to their spiel; it is good for their self-confidence.
This does not pertain to the creepy adults who sell magazines door-to-door claiming that they are straightening their life out after getting shot in some gang related incident. Feel free to ignore those people. And lock the door after they leave.
Funny bonus tidbit: I was a Girl Scout (I actually wore Mushroom shoes and stockings with my uniform... yeah, I am cool) for two years in elementary school. The first year of the cookie sale, I was shocked to learn that there were prizes for selling the most. One of the girls in my troop won a book bag with a mouse eating a Samoa/Caramel Delight cookie. I wanted that bag!
The following year (I only stayed in GS a second year so that I could sell cookies again and WIN THE MOUSE BAG. Sadly, even then I had an obsession with bags), I pledged to myself that I was going to sell 250 boxes of cookies so that I would get the "free" mouse bag.
My parents had a strict "no selling" policy. No asking anyone at work, no harassing the neighbors, no standing in front of the grocery store hawking my wares. My mother actually said "If someone calls and asks you if they can buy some, you may tell them the choices." Like random wrong number calls ask for cookies? Even at the age of seven, I knew this was not going to happen.
But that was not going to keep me from my mouse bag. No sirree bob. Like any good Southern girl knows, the shortest route from A to B is through Daddy. Yes, it is manipulative but it is also efficient. And I still contend he knew he was being played but happily went along with it because, well, I was his little girl and that is what we do. As long as everyone knows their role and stays in character, no one gets hurt.
I explained my desperate need for the mouse bag to my dad and the fact that the guy who called about the meter readings did not happen to ask if I had any Tagalongs for sale. Sweet Daddy agreed to buy whatever I needed to get the bag. BoNANza!
What my dad did not grasp (nor did I proffer these details) was that I had to sell 250 boxes of cookies to get the bag. The day of delivery, imagine his shock as the Cookie Mom loads 250 boxes of goodies into the station wagon. Imagine his further shock when I needed a check for all of the aforementioned goodies.
Dad and I head straight from cookie pick-up to Sears to buy a freezer to hold the loot. This book bag is now costing over $1000 as well as the wrath of my mother who was not privy to my scheme.
Imagine my shock when we get the prizes. Instead of my "very cute mouse eating a cookie" bag, it is a bag with a girl riding a bicycle which has tires made of Thin Mints! This is not cute! There is no mouse!
I go home in tears with my crappy-ass book bag dragging the ground. Upon seeing me, my Dad says "You mean to tell me that I spent over a thousand dollars on tens of thousands of cookies and a freezer to hold all of them... am still listening to your mother harp about this.... and you don't even like the bag?"
Between tears, I hold up the bag and show him the ugliness of it. Sweet Daddy says "Of course you don't like it, we are not a Thin Mint family."
God bless my sweet Dad who understood Rule #1.
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