When I was five or six years old, I was taken to the hospital with a fever of 104.8 F (40.4 C). I had bronchitis and a UTI at the same time. I was there for a few days — over Halloween weekend — because I was so young and those were both severe.

My parents brought me a couple of gifts and then tried trick-or-treating on my behalf. They’d explain and some people gave them some candy, but most didn’t believe them and refused. I would’ve been thrilled with a bubble wand!

The upside to this story is that one year, my dad and stepmom grossly overestimated how much candy they’d need for trick-or-treaters, and my dad, remembering my experience a few years before, did one of the only decent things he ever did and took all the leftovers to the children’s ward at the local hospital and passed it out (with approval from parents and doctors/nurses) to those kids.

I am installing a car battery. He turns to his eight-year-old son and says:

Customer: “See, son, this is why you go to college: so you don’t have to work jobs like this.”

The son starts giggling at me and smiling smugly. Normally, I would ignore ignorant comments like this (it happens more often than you think), but my own son of a similar age is doing his homework in the corner of the shop and has heard everything.

Me: “See, son, this is why you never be a jerk and assume someone is uneducated while they’re in college and only a few months away from getting their doctorate in physical therapy.”

Customer: *Sputtering* “But… you’re a mechanic! Why?”

Me: “Because my son and I like to eat.”

He was silent for the rest of my time on his car. I hope his son doesn’t turn into a brat.

I work in a hotel. I checked a family of five in on a Friday. The youngest came bounding in as the rest of the family walked in and cheerfully said hi! Children — well-behaved ones, that is — are some of my favourite guests as they are just full of energy and are fun to talk to. I grew up around young children in the family, so I have a knack for knowing the right behaviour. I enjoy hearing about their weekend plans. Our company always encourages us to talk to the little-uns, too.

As I was doing my check-in with the parents, she chimed in:

Youngest Child: “It’s my birthday tomorrow!”

Me: “How old are you going to be?”

Youngest Child: “Nine!”

Me: “Wow! That’s a big number!” *To the family* “What are your plans?”

Mum: “We’re in the area for the weekend for Uni choices and applications for my eldest.”

They didn’t mention anything about plans for the little-un — to me, anyway.

The family headed up to the room, and I decided I was going to give the little-un something for her birthday. We couldn’t do anything massive, but it’s the thought that counts. We have new children’s books that come with a toy, so I got one of them and a choccy from a vending machine, and I wrote out a little Happy Birthday note. (We’re not supposed to be giving gift stuff to guests because of the global health crisis, but I decided, “Screw it.”)

I delivered the gifts to her parents at their room and went back down to the desk. I missed them as they headed out for the afternoon but caught them on their way back in.

Mum: “[Youngest Child] was over the moon about your gifts! We’re going to read the book together tonight.”

My heart melted.

I finished my shift and wasn’t due back until Monday. When I returned, I found that the little-un had drawn a thank-you letter directed to me personally with some drawings. When I say I nearly cried from happiness, I’m not lying.

I work in a restaurant. I had a big group at work the other day with another coworker, and this table was absolutely insufferable. They were super impatient and condescending — the kind of people who think servers exist for only them and aren’t people. But that wasn’t the worst part.

The biggest b**** and ringleader of the whole table had a two-year-old kid who was just a tiny deviant. This kid kept grabbing me, trying to stick his hands under my shirt, and calling me Mommy, and his parents wouldn’t even bat an eye.

Me: *Gesturing to the toddler* “Please keep an eye on him. There’s hot food coming in and out, and I’m worried that he’ll get hurt.”

They just rolled their eyes and then started whispering amongst themselves.

I talked to a manager, and she didn’t do anything. She told me to tough it out and come get her if it escalated to the adults behaving like that.

What do I do in a situation like that? I can’t put my hands on the kid, but I don’t need to be groped by a toddler at work. Parents are the only ones who can control their kids, and they definitely had no desire to do so.

CONTENT WARNING: Choking (Child chokes on food, but he is rescued.)

I work in a restaurant. One night, I had a table of four: two adults and two kids. The dad seemed to not even want to be there, but the mom was very polite, and it seemed she was delighted to finally eat out at a restaurant that wasn’t some greasy spoon diner. The two kids — a toddler and a boy maybe five years old — were polite as could be.

They ordered fried cheese sticks as an appetizer. I delivered them,and when I came out from the kitchen again a few minutes later, I spotted trouble. The five-year-old boy was struggling; his mouth was open, his eyes were bulging, and he was half-standing on the seat, leaning over the table.

I ran over to see what was wrong. He was literally turning purple and sort of thrashing about. That’s when I realized he was choking. I ran up and grabbed him, stuck my fingers in his mouth, and pulled a half-chewed cheese stick out of his throat. He immediately started breathing and coughing raggedly, but he was at least breathing.

His mom was frantic but thanked me profusely. The kid regained his composure, and the rest of the meal went fine. The dad never even put down his fork during the whole event and just pointed to the regurgitated cheese stick on the table.

Father: “Clean that up.”

He left me a $2 tip on a $70 tab.