Elizabeth Davies: Time again for schoolchildren to sell, sell, sell

If you thought the art of door-to-door sales was dead, you're wrong. Simply open your front door and look down.

This is the time of year when our little salespeople go from house to house, peddling their wares. They use strong powers of persuasion - pigtail twisting, unblinking doe eyes and awkwardly rehearsed sales pitches - to which few adults are immune.

Ding-dong.

"My school's raising money for (fill in the blank). I have to sell $500 worth in order to win an iPod/remote control car/other toy of choice. Will you buy my pizza/cookies/calendar?"

Knock, knock.

"My team needs new uniforms. You want candy?"

They're selling cookies, chocolate bars and wrapping paper; magazine subscriptions, raffle tickets and cookware. Basically, if you don't need it, they've got it.

And they don't just come to your house. Their parents corner you in the break room at work. You get e-mails from the most distant of relatives, pleas from friends on behalf of their little ones.

Call me a Scrooge, but I absolutely hate fundraiser sales. I hate that schools all but force students to meet a basic sales quota, as if their Christmas bonus and next year's performance review depends on their popcorn sales.

I was asked to do exactly one fundraiser as a kid: It was for my ballet school's performance of "The Nutcracker." We were given a box of 50 chocolate bars and asked to sell them for $1 each.

My mother wrote a check for $50, so embarrassed was she at the prospect of her child "begging" the neighbors for money. I, meanwhile, was thrilled to have 50 chocolate bars at my disposal.

Like mother, like daughter, I suppose. As a matter of principle, I refuse to buy fundraiser goodies from any child, family members included.

Last year, a neighbor girl came over to sell me raffle tickets for her school. Being new in the 'hood, I figured I would break my long-standing rule and buy a ticket. Call it an olive branch of sorts.

That's when she dropped the price on me: $15 for one or three for $25. Apparently, inflation has taken its toll on raffle prices since the last time I was in the raffle market. What happened to three for $5?

I can't help but imagine that there are better ways to increase a school's budget. I know things such as car washes and bake sales don't attract quite the attention as fancy-schmancy wrapping paper, but they also don't carry that high brand of buyer guilt.

School should be about studies for a child: reading, writing and arithmetic.

Extracurriculars should be about fun: sports, drama, art.

I grew up in a world where adults took care of the money, and kids just had to be kids. Today's never-ending reel of fundraisers doesn't appear to make allowances for that.

Of course, Scrooge or not, there's one fundraiser I can't bring myself to say no to: Girl Scout cookies.

I've just never met a Thin Mint I didn't love.

Elizabeth Davies' column runs Thursdays in People of the Rock River Valley.