Don’t Play Games With Me, Kid

, , , , , | Friendly | October 13, 2019

(I am attending my son’s graduation. As important as these are, they are long, dull affairs for those in the audience. I have just bought an iPod and I brought it along to keep myself amused. There’s a kid in front of me about 11 or 12. He turns around and sees me playing a game on the iPod.)

Kid: “Let me play!”

Me: *taken slightly aback* “Um, that would be no.”

Kid: “Why not? I’m bored. I want to play with it!”

Me: “Because I bought it to amuse me, not amuse you.”

(The kid glared for a moment, clearly trying to think of a rebuttal, and then realized I’m no pushover and turned back around. I returned to my game thinking, “Where are this kid’s parents? Now and for the last ten years of his life?”)

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A Pox On Both Their Houses!

, , , , , , | Working | October 11, 2019

(This takes place back in the early 90s, right before the chickenpox vaccine is released. I am only a toddler at the time and my family is about to go on a very expensive — and non-refundable — vacation. My babysitter at the time sometimes watches me with a friend of hers and the kid she babysits. That kid comes down with chickenpox, and the kid’s mother asks my mother if it is all right to expose me “to get it over with,” which my mom emphatically refuses due to our impending trip. She also tells my babysitter that she doesn’t want me to go over to that kid’s house while they are sick, which my babysitter agrees to. The next day, my babysitter is dropping me off and my mom sees the chickenpox kid in the car with me.)

Mom: “I told you I didn’t want her near [Other Kid]!”

Babysitter: “Oh, don’t worry, we didn’t have them in the house together at all!”

(I got chickenpox. My parents had to cancel the trip and forfeit their deposit. Twenty plus years later, my mom is still kicking herself over not being more specific in her instructions.)

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For Those Who Think Parmesan Is The Papa Of All Cheeses

, , , , | Right | October 9, 2019

(I work in a pizza place that is NOT Papa John’s.)

Kid: “Can I have some Papa John’s cheese?”

Me: “I don’t know what that is. “

Kid: “My mama said to get some Papa John cheese. “

Me: “Do you mean Parmesan cheese?”

Kid: “I don’t know. I guess so. “

(I took him to the counter where the Parmesan cheese was. He took some, still unsure, but didn’t come back so I guess that’s what his mom sent him after.)

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There’s Only One Brat In This Restaurant

, , , , , | Right | October 8, 2019

(I am pregnant with my second child and a bit upset I have passed the 200-pound mark. To try to cheer me up, my mother takes me, my sister, and my daughter out to spend the day together. We have stopped at a diner for lunch and have just been seated when my daughter starts getting fussy because she is hungry.)

Customer: “Hey!” *snaps at the waitress* “That baby is causing a racket! It shouldn’t be allowed in here!”

Waitress: “I’m sorry, ma’am, but this is a family restaurant. They have every right to be here.”

Customer: “My meal has been ruined by that brat! I want it for free!”

Waitress: “I can’t do that, ma’am. You have ordered and eaten five entrees, and have already received your check. I can’t comp your entire meal just because a baby starts crying as you are getting ready to leave.”

Customer: “I’m going to call corporate on you for this! F****** brat has ruined my entire day!”

(The customer finally pays and leaves, but not without more foul language and many nasty looks in our direction. My mother has had her hand on my arm to keep me seated and has been whispering to me to stay calm the entire time. After the customer leaves, the waitress approaches our table.)

Waitress: “I’m very sorry about that. Can I get you ladies something to drink?”

Me: “Boy, I wish I could have some alcohol right now…”

Waitress: “I know how you feel. That’s the third time this month that lady has tried to get a free meal out of us.”

Me: “And I thought it was only us pregnant chicks that were that bat-s*** crazy…”

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A Sick Fantasy

, , , , , | Healthy | October 1, 2019

(I work in a childcare centre. Every ten minutes we have to check on the sleeping children in the nursery to make sure they are still alive and breathing. A coworker who is quiet, sweet, and very unsure of herself does the check and comes out of one of the cot rooms to say:)

Coworker: “[Child] has thrown up a little.”

Me: “Oh, okay. Do you want to clean it up, or do the washing up I was about to do and let me clean it up?”

Coworker: “Ah, I’d like to do the washing up if you don’t mind.”

Me: “Sure thing.” 

(I go grab what I will need –gloves, washcloths, bag for clothes, etc. — and walk into the room. The child has projectile vomited in her sleep; it is EVERYWHERE and the child is still asleep. The sheets need to be thrown out, the cot has to be disinfected, and the child needs a bath — it is in her hair and in her socks. I walk up to that coworker later.)

Me: “Um, [Coworker]…”

Coworker: “Yes?”

Me: “You led me down a bit of a fantasy there by saying it was a little bit of vomit.”

(She and the other coworkers in the staff room lost it with laughter.)

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