February 7, 1992
Dear Everyone:
The Great Cookie Conspiracy rears its crummy head
again.
It goes something like this:
A group of people, usually women,
is having a meal at some sort of restaurant and decides to include some
cookies. Wonderful cookies.
In fact, the cookies are so
wonderful that one of the group decides to try to get the recipe.
The person is told that she/he will have to buy the
recipe for "two-fifty". The
charge is added to the bill for the meal and only later does the person
discover that the recipe cost
$250.00
The person is outraged, of course, and goes back to
try and get their money back, which the establishment refuses to do,
claiming that the exorbitant price is to prevent "just anyone" from
obtaining the recipe. The person
gets even by copying the recipe and getting it out to everyone they can
think of, with instructions for the recipients to make more copies and
send them out to others and so on, and so on, and so on…
Sound familiar? This
is what is known as an "Urban Myth", so-called because (a) it's a myth;
and (b) it usually arises and propagates in an urban environment.
It's a story that someone hears
from someone who heard it from someone who's brother-in-law works with
someone's cousin. You will never
hear it "from the horse’s mouth" and there is never any proof.
Notice, in this case, that the
recipe is never accompanied by a copy of the charge card slip with
"cookie recipe: $250.00" printed on it.
Other urban myths: The
family whose aunt/grandmother/any relative died and they couldn't afford
a funeral, so they rented a meat locker instead.
The woman who washed her new
puppy and then decided to quick-dry it in the microwave.
The "good as new" Army surplus
Jeep for under $500.00
The first time I heard the Great Cookie Conspiracy,
the villain/victim was
Mrs. Fields
Cookies. Mrs. Fields went so far
as to go to the media and deny the whole thing, pointing out that (a)
they didn't sell their recipes; (b) if they did sell their recipes, they
would never charge so much; and (c) most importantly, that's
not their recipe!
It didn't matter. People
all over the country gleefully copied the recipes and sent them out to
friends and strangers, thinking that they were getting even with
somebody.
In fact, the only ones who
profited from the whole thing (if any) were the sellers of copy machine
paper.
Last week, a woman I know, who prides herself on
her sophistication, told me, in all seriousness, that
Neiman-Marcus
had ripped someone off and gave me a copy of the cookie recipe, alleged
cost: $250. The only thing that had changed was the name of the company
and the ingredients. Everyone in
the office got a copy.
In other news…
This was one of those "drop everything, I need
help!" days (and it's only half over). “Miranda”
came to see me as soon as she got in this morning.
Yesterday (Thursday) she found
out that she has to give a 15 minute presentation on Records Retention
Schedules for a group she is working with in “Pleasant Hill” on Monday
(tomorrow, if you don't count the weekend).
So, “Miranda” made originals for overhead slides in
WordPerfect. When she was ready,
I helped her plug in graphics to illustrate her points.
All these weeks of using graphics
to perk up my weekly letters really paid off today.
Love, as always,
Pete
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