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Category: Family & Kids

Parental-Misguidance-13

| Barnstaple, England, UK | Family & Kids, Movies & TV, Underaged

(It is 1989, when Tim Burton’s first Batman movie hit the cinemas. The British Board of Film Classification (the UK version of the Motion Picture Association of America) has decided to create a new picture certificate, the 12-certificate, meaning only those over the age of 12 may be admitted. Batman is the very first movie in the UK to be given this certificate. The cinema where this occurs is a single screen, rural cinema that has only one film a week, showing once a day. Cinema-goers queue outside and must do so past two posters advertising that week’s presentation. Because of the newness of the 12-certificate the management have put bright yellow notices with the posters advising patrons of the film’s rating and what it means. Also at opening time cinema staff are policing the queue ensuring no one under 12 gains entry. Behind me are two grandparents and their eight year old grandchild. A cinema employee comes up to them.)

Employee: “Excuse me, sir, madam, how old is the child?”

Grandmother: “Eight.”

Employee: “I’m sorry, but this presentation has been rated ’12’ by the BBFC and as such, is unsuitable for the child.”

Grandmother: “But it’s Batman!”

Employee: “Yes, but the film has been rated certificate ’12’ due to its content.”

Grandfather: “’12’ certificate?”

Employee: “Yes, sir, it’s a new certificate, restricting the presentation to those to aged 12 or over. The newspaper did warn about this in our advert this week and there are signs outside the cinema saying the same thing.”

Grandfather: “But it’s his birthday and we promised him we’d take him to see Batman.”

Employee: “I understand but it is against the law for us to admit him.”

Grandmother: “But it’s Batman!”

Employee: “I’m sorry, madam you’ll have to leave. There’s nothing we can do.”

Grandmother: “But it’s Batman!”

Employee:Batman it may be; suitable for an eight year old, no, it isn’t. Now please leave. You’re holding up the queue.”

(The grandparents and grandchild leave the queue. Halfway up the street she turns and shouts to the queue.)

Grandmother: “This is so unfair! It’s Batman; it should be for kids!”

There Were No Children In The Wild West

| Cody, WY, USA | Crazy Requests, Family & Kids

(My husband and I own one of those photography studios where people dress up in Wild West costumes and get a sepia toned picture taken. Our sitting fee is based on how many people will be in the picture, regardless of their age.)

Me: “Welcome, how many people do you have in your picture today?”

Man: “Five, and one child.”

Me: “So six people?”

Man: “Five and a child.”

Me: “Six people, then. That will be—”

Man: *getting frustrated* “You charge for children?”

Me: “Yes, we charge the same for children and adults, considering we have to costume and pose them just the same.”

Man: “Even if they’re sitting on laps?!”

Me: “Does having a child sit on a lap for a photo make them magically morph into one entity?”

(Anybody who has to ask why a photographer doesn’t charge less for children has clearly never photographed children.)

Teenage Drama

| OH, USA | Bad Behavior, Family & Kids

(Due to a problem with teens destroying merchandise when unsupervised, my store has implemented a curfew which states that after nine pm, no person under 18 may be in the store unaccompanied by a parent or guardian. It’s frequent for children to lie about their age or say their parents are in another part of the store.)

Me: *spotting two obviously underage kids* “Hey, guys, are you both 18?”

Boy: *laughs* “No?”

Me: “Are your parents in the store?”

Girl: “…No?”

Me: “I’m sorry, guys, but we have a curfew and after nine you need to have your parents in the store with you.”

(They leave. About 15 minutes later a coworker spots them:)

Coworker: “Hey, are you 18?”

Boy: “Yeah.”

(I radio my coworker to tell her these are the same kids we just spoke to. She kicks them out again. 10 or so minutes later I’ve moved to the upstairs of the store and I spot the boy again.)

Me: “Hey, come on now; are your parents with you this time?”

Boy: “Yeah, she’s just downstairs.”

Me: “I’m sure. Look I need you to stay WITH your parents; you’ve been kicked out twice already.”

Boy: “What? I need to sit on my mom’s lap?”

Me: “You have to be accompanied by a parent after nine.”

Boy: “She’s right downstairs.”

Mother: *coming up the stairs* “Is there a problem?”

(I try to explain to her about our curfew but the whole time she is shouting over me.)

Mother: “HOW DARE YOU! I don’t understand why anyone would talk to a CHILD like this.”

Me: “I’m sorry if I addressed your son inappropriately, but you see we have a curfew—”

Mother: “YOU NEED TO CALM DOWN!”

Me: “Ma’am, I’m calm, but I’m trying to explain to you that we need your children to remain in your supervision at—”

Mother: “GET YOUR MANAGER. NOW!”

(I radio my manager who is covertly standing around the corner the whole time. The customer insists that I was screaming at her kids and that I rolled my eyes at her when she asked for a manager. After she leaves, another customer walks up.)

Other Customer: *to my manager* “I just want to say that she was fine, and that lady was a crazy person.”

Me: “THANK YOU.”