Years ago when I worked as a museum educator, I was running a drop-in gallery program. A small girl around five years old confidently approached me and leaned on my table like she was about to smoothly order a drink at a bar. 

Little Girl: “I like this museum, and I would like to work here.”

I was about to play along and ask her if she knew a lot about history when a woman, presumably her mom, appeared behind her

Woman: “No, honey! You can’t work at the museum! Remember…?”

And this little girl sighed, eye-rolled, and said:

Little Girl: “I know, I know! Child labor laws!”

I sensed that they’d had that discussion before. I think that kid is going places!

My late grandfather was a dentist, and he told me about a particularly difficult patient he had back in the 1970s.

[Kid] was ten years old, and the entire practice dreaded his visits. When he appeared for an appointment to have some cavities filled, he entered the room with a look of defiance on his face, and my grandfather decided he just was not in the mood.

Dentist: “Get in the chair. I’m not going to play with you today.”

Kid: “No! And you can’t make me!”

Dentist: “Now!”

Kid: “I’m gonna take off all my clothes!”

Dentist: “Yeah, go right ahead.”

[Kid] stripped down to his underwear and folded his arms.

Dentist: “Now get in the chair!”

[Kid] grabbed the waistband of his underwear in a silent threat to pull them down.

Dentist: “I double-dare you!”

[Kid] stripped completely naked.

Dentist: “Now get in the chair!”

The kid quietly got in the chair and cooperated throughout the entire procedure. However, while [Dentist] was working on him, he quietly instructed his dental assistant to take the clothes elsewhere.

When it was over:

Kid: “Hey, where are my clothes?”

Dentist: “You can pick them up tomorrow. Goodbye.”

Kid: “YOU CAN’T—”

[Dentist] marched the kid out of the room and into the hallway and locked the door behind him.

Ten minutes later, he predictably got a phone call summoning him up to the front desk. He was met by [Kid]’s mother who was standing surprisingly calm and almost smug, despite the fact that she’d just witnessed the door opening and her son walking butt naked into a waiting room full of people.

Mom: “He blackmailed you with his clothes, didn’t he?”

Dentist: “Yep, and I called his bluff.”

Mom: “He’s been doing that to me forever. Any time we’re in public and I tell him no, he’ll threaten to strip naked in front of everyone, and I always find myself giving in. Thanks so much.” *To [Kid]* “LET’S GO!”

And [Kid]’s mom marched him right out, through the medical clinic full of people, through the elevators, and into the parking lot.

[Kid]’s mom came by the next day to pick up his clothes and told my grandfather that when they got home, she didn’t allow that brat to get dressed there, either, and made him spend the entire day at home walking around butt naked and enduring teasing and jeers from his siblings.

My grandfather never had a problem with him from then on, and according to his mom, it was the last time he ever blackmailed her with his clothes again.

I related a particular story to my then-twelve-year-old daughter to illustrate a point that I thought she would appreciate. A few months later, on her birthday, my mom called to wish her a happy birthday. After they were done talking, my daughter handed the phone to me so we could chat.

Mom: “I was telling [Daughter] about [same story]. She said she really liked that and hadn’t heard it before.”

Me: “But I told her that a couple of months ago…”

Mom: “Well, remember: you’re her mom, and she’s a teenager now, so you’re stupid.”

She instantly changed my demeanor from mild indignation to laughter. Now that I’m not a teenager anymore: thanks, Mom!

I am working on a theme park’s Ferris wheel. As one of the cabins approaches, I see a woman letting both of her kids urinate on the floor.

Me: “Ma’am, you should have let them use the restrooms before the ride!” 

Mother: “Eh… it shouldn’t have gone on for so long.”

It was a five-minute ride.

She shrugged her shoulders and walked off. She was escorted from the park with protests, but the damage was already done and I had to close the ride.

I’m working in a hotel, and I get a few calls about noise complaints from one of our rooms. I go to investigate and discover that a family retreat and kid’s birthday party is taking place in one of our suites.

The adults are getting s***-faced while the kids are in the Presidential suite raising Hell. They decided to have a fully-stocked ice cream bar, and they have allowed the kids to do what they want with it. M&Ms are crushed into the carpet, chocolate footprints are on the walls, whipped cream is just… f******… everywhere, and fruit punch spilled on the bed.

They are ordered to end the party, and when they fail to do so, they are escorted out by security.

In total, we have to charge them about $7,000 in damages, and I send them an invoice and a strongly worded letter. Of course, we get a call from them.

Guest: “What are all these charges?!”

Me: “The invoice itemizes them in great detail, sir.”

Guest: “But it’s all just cleaning stuff!” 

Me: “No, sir, the room was wrecked.” 

Guest: “But we thought the clean-up would be included in the price. That’s why we did it at a hotel!” 

Parents… don’t throw huge children’s birthday parties in hotel rooms.