This Is Why The Theater Is Dying

, , , , , | Friendly | December 8, 2019

My partner and I go see the 7:10 showing of Maleficent and, as we rarely go to the movies due to many bad experiences in the past, we decide to make this experience nicer by purchasing an expensive tray consisting of popcorn, two drinks, and two candies. We have assigned seating and purposely choose the row behind the handicap seats as we figure most people like to sit much further back.

A family with children comes in and sits directly behind us. One of the children starts hanging all over the seats and kicking our seats. I keep looking back at them hoping the “mother” will get him to knock it off. 

This continues all the way through the end of the movie. When the movie ends, I get up and look at her and say sarcastically, “Great job controlling your child.” She tells me to turn around — signs of a s***ty parent there. 

I wish I had gotten a manager when the child first started up.

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The Only Thing Broken Is Her Parenting  

, , , , , , | Right | December 4, 2019

(I am on break when this happens but my manager tells me about this. She and a coworker are working in the backroom, organizing and labelling boxes. A child opens the door and throws a mug at them.)

Mother Of Child: “Did the mug break?”

Manager: “No, but—”

Mother Of Child: “Oh, good. We don’t have to pay for it, then. Come along, [Child].”

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It’s Time To Lego Of This Customer  

, , , , , | Right | December 4, 2019

(I work at a board game store that has three locations. I’m usually at our location inside the local mall which, for obvious reasons, has a lot more toys than the other two locations. A family of about four adults and one small child comes in and wanders around the store. I don’t see the kid playing at the train table, which is probably our biggest attraction for small kids, nor do I see him play at all with the Plus Plus demo table — like Legos but all one shape. What I do see when I look over is the kid happily taking apart one of two Lego models my manager spent all morning putting together a few days ago to show what they look like as we still have several of those two models in stock.)

Me: “I’m sorry, that’s not what that’s for; it’s for display. Could you please not let him do that?”

Mom: “What? It was out there. I didn’t realize this was a toy store where you can’t play with any of the toys!”

Me: “We have other things he can play with; we’d just really rather he not take apart the Legos. I’m sorry those ones weren’t labeled like the ones at the counter are—”

Mom: *interrupting* “Well, they should be! I can’t believe he can’t even touch the toys! What kind of toy store is this, anyway?!”

Me: *trying to come up with an answer that won’t offend her further*

Mom: *dumps Lego pieces in my hands* “Well, I’m sorry we didn’t realize that he can’t play with the toys. We’ll be on our way, then, and I’m sorry to have bothered you!”

Me: *after them as they already are leaving* “He can play with the trains… or the Plus Plus…”

(Two other customers who saw the whole thing reassured me that I had not been rude at all. Fifteen minutes later, I got a call. The woman on the phone asked for my manager. I was the only employee at this location, and I was pretty sure the manager over all the locations was not at work, so I told her when my store manager would be back: two days from then. I’m certain it was her, wanting to complain that I wouldn’t let her small child tear our Lego model to bits.)

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If You Eat Those You’re Swimming With The Fishes

, , , , | Right | November 29, 2019

(A little boy and his mother come up to my register. The boy excitedly puts a bag of fishing lures on my counter, but before I can ring them up the mother asks me what they’re for.)

Me: “They’re fishing lures, ma’am.”

Customer: “So, they’re not edible? See, I told you those weren’t gummies. Put them back!”

Little Boy: “BUT MAMMA, I NEED SUGAR!”

Customer: “Fine, pick something else!”

Little Boy: “I want this!

(He dramatically slams a pack of Twizzlers down on the counter, and by now I’m having a really hard time not laughing.)

Customer: “This is what I have to deal with every day!”

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Be Thankful They Are Leaving

, , , , , , , | Related | November 28, 2019

(Every year for Thanksgiving, we have several family and extended family members come to our house, since we have a big dining room and a good-size living room, so there’s space for everyone to sit and eat. One year, my brother gets married and his wife invites her mother and her younger siblings to our home for Thanksgiving, giving me about two days’ notice about the six extra guests. Usually, I’m pretty informal about dinner, but on holidays, I insist everyone put away all technology and actually interact with each other while we eat. My sister-in-law’s youngest brother comes up to me.)

Youngest Brother: “I’ll take my food into the garage and play video games during dinner, thanks.”

Me: “No, you can’t do that. We all sit around the dinner table for dinner.”

Youngest Brother: *starts throwing a fit*

His Mother: “But we are your guests and you should accommodate his little quirks.”

Me: “He will eat at the table, or play games and not eat. His choice.”

(She storms out of the house with her children in tow.)

His Mother: “We’ll never come back!”

(Unbelievably, for two years we really don’t see them again even though they live less than thirty minutes away. My sister-in-law occasionally mentions that they would really like to come back for Thanksgiving and finally gets around to actually asking if they could come this year.)

Me: “I never banned them from the house or from celebrating with us. They are welcome but will be expected to eat at the table like the rest of us.”

(She says that is fine and invites the brood back. The youngest brother sits at the table, looks around at the food, and announces:)

Youngest Brother: “I want [Fast Food Place], instead.”

(I expect his mother or my sister-in-law to point out how ridiculous that is, but they are looking at me like this is a perfectly reasonable request.)

Me: “You can eat what is in front of you, or ask your mother about [Fast Food Place].”

His Mother: “But we’re your guests and you should accommodate us!

(She’s apparently really fond of that phrase! I give up on being polite at that point and simply say no.)

His Mother: “What do you mean, no?!” 

Me: “You’re a native English speaker. I’m sure you know the meaning of the word.” 

Youngest Brother: “My teeth hurt and I can’t eat anything but [Fast Food Place] chicken nuggets.”

(That is such an absurd statement I don’t even acknowledge it. His mother is busy turning a really alarming reddish-purple color and doesn’t say anything, either. Finally, after a few minutes of silence, the boy starts whining.)

Youngest Brother: “My lips hurt and I can only eat [Fast Food Place]!” *then yelling* “My whole mouth is hurting and I need chicken nuggets!”

(His mother is glaring at me as her son begins to really pitch a fit.)

Sister-In-Law: “[Fast Food Place] is open; you should just go out really quick and get him chicken nuggets.”

Me: “You’re welcome to go yourself and take him with you. I’ve cooked for two days and I’ll be d***ed if I am going to give in to this brat’s whining.”

(At me calling the boy a brat, his mother again stormed out with all her children in tow, including my sister-in-law. I have never been happier to be called a terrible host in my life, and I was so very relieved when my brother divorced that woman.)

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