THE VIRGINIAN-PILOT
Copyright (c) 1995, Landmark Communications, Inc.
DATE: Sunday, January 15, 1995 TAG: 9501130271
SECTION: CAROLINA COAST PAGE: 04 EDITION: FINAL
TYPE: Editorial
SOURCE: Ron Speer
LENGTH: Medium: 73 lines
With the doorbell ringing incessantly, I turned the knob. That was all the invitation Abbi Sawyer needed to get the proverbial foot in the door.
She marched under my arm and into the living room with the poise of an old pro. Fast as she was, she was beaten into the house by her dachshund, Maggie.
The dog is about as long as Abbi is tall.
No matter. As they say, it ain't the size of the dog in the fight, it's the size of the fight in the dog.
And although she's only eight years old, Abbi is one tough little cookie.
She was carrying a folder, and was all business. After introducing herself and breaking the ice by telling me that ``you know my Mom,'' she found her way to my office and spread her papers on the desk.
``I'm selling Girl Scout cookies,'' Abbi said. ``You put your name and address on the left side, and on the right side you pick the kind of cookies you want.''
She'd obviously done me a favor by sparing me the trouble of deciding WHETHER I wanted any cookies. All I had to do was to decide how many, and what kind.
I settled on a couple of boxes of traditional types, skipping the new low-fat offering. The cookies are still $2.50 a box, so I pulled out a $5 bill. Abbi told me to keep the money, my credit was good. She'll collect when she brings cookies around in a month.
Since I hadn't caught her last name, and couldn't place her mom, I asked where she lived.
``Not very far from here,'' she replied. ``I rode my bike.''
Then the third-grader at Manteo Elementary called her dog, marched out the door, climbed on her bike and pedalled off with Maggie trotting happily alongside.
Abbi made her sales pitch to me on Sunday afternoon, the second day of the nationwide cookie campaign. I was her 65th customer. She's set her sights, she confided, on selling a thousand boxes.
That's going to take a lot of pedaling around Manteo on her little hot-pink bike. But I'm betting Abbi will reach her goal.
And I'm equally sure that one day she'll be running General Motors or May Kay or one of the nation's big companies where sales are key.
Abbi is a natural, pushing a product she believes in and leaving her customers delighted she'd allowed them the opportunity to buy her wares.
After she left, I felt wonderful. The tiny charmer is one of those people who make you feel good about today - and good about the future.
There are hundreds of little girls knocking on doors in northeast North Carolina, and probably millions across the country.
The annual cookie campaign is a treasured part of Americana, a tradition that continues when many other once-celebrated customs have been abandoned. For some girls, it's a pain. But many - like Abbi Sawyer - take to it like ducks to water.
They fan around neighborhoods across the nation, these determined little saleswomen, raising money that will help finance activities that are badly needed in a time when family togetherness is threatened by divorce and working parents and financial stress.
For many girls, it's their first real challenge, trying to talk strangers into buying cookies in support of their programs.
Abbi Sawyer's been doing it for a couple of years now, and I imagine she's knocking on doors again today.
I guarantee you'll feel better if you are one of those people Abbi decides she wants for a customer.
Besides, the cookies are good. I'm looking forward to seeing Abbi again when she pedals up with her dog, Maggie, rings the doorbell, marches into the house and hands me my cookies.
No matter how bad things may be going, that will be a sweet day. by CNB