My neighbor got a free cat from someone online. I told her this was a bad idea several times because she has a three-year-old son, but they like taking care of my cat while I’m out of town, so she decided they could handle one of their own. The first day the kitty was home, [Three-Year-Old] cornered her under the kitchen table.

Me: “Hey, [Three-Year-Old], let’s give the kitty some space.”

Neighbor: “He’s just excited. He’ll be fine.”

Me: “He needs to give her space. What if she tries to bite or scratch him?”

Neighbor: “He’s fine. Your cat doesn’t do that.”

Me: “My cat is used to him. I hope you’re not saying he corners her like this?”

Neighbor: *Quickly* “Oh, no, no! It’s not like that. He’s just excited about having her here.”

Me: “I understand, but he’s going to be a lot less excited if she reacts like an animal with no options.”

Right on cue, the cat hissed and swatted at [Three-Year-Old]. He recoiled, banging his head on the table. [Neighbor] went to him and checked him over. He was unharmed except for the bump on the head and fear.

Neighbor: *Angry* “Did you see that?! [My Name], put the cat outside. 

Me: “It’s not her fault. I told you—”

Neighbor: “She attacked my son!

Me: “She warned him — no scratches, no bites. His goose egg is his own fault. I’ll take the cat and my spare key.”

Neighbor: “The key?”

Me: “I don’t want you watching my cat anymore.”

I coaxed the kitty out of her hiding spot and carried her across the street to my house. After some quiet time, she was slowly introduced to my first cat. They now sunbathe and nap together. [Neighbor] still doesn’t understand why someone would give away a cat if it doesn’t like kids.

I work at a gift shop at a museum. A little boy with his grandma is deliberating between a toy lizard and a toy dragon.

Grandma: “Pick which one you want; you can only have one today.”

Boy: “But I want both!”

Grandma: “I know you do, sweetie. We can get another one next time. But just one for today, okay?”

Coworker: “They’re both really cool. But you have to make sure you pick one you really, really love. So, take a look at them and figure out which one you love the most.”

Grandma: “Which one do you love more? I think it might be the dragon.”

Boy: “I think it might be the dragon… and the lizard!”

Grandma: “No, just one.”

Boy: “I WANT TWO TOP PREDATORS!”

In the end, neither the boy nor his grandma would relent, so he ended up with zero top predators.

This happened years ago when my younger brother was very small. We have a community of Hungarians who live in our town in Germany. One year, someone had the brilliant idea to invite another Hungarian community from another town to our Christmas party. Two groups of Hungarian people sharing the experience of living in Germany, right?

Well, it didn’t take long for the adults to start arguing. Our guests insisted on kicking a family off the party, as they aren’t ethnic Hungarians, which our group disagreed with. Once the argument calmed down a bit, my younger brother went up to one of the guests.

Brother: “Why don’t you like [Woman]?”

Guest: “Her family’s bad; they’re [slur]s.”

Brother: “What did they do to be bad?”

Guest: “They don’t need to do anything. They’re [slur]s.”

Brother: “So, [slur]s are bad because they are [slur]s.”

Guest: “Yes. Finally, someone here gets it.”

Brother: “Why don’t you just say you’re Nazis?”

One weekend, my partner and I visit our local zoo. It is a lovely day, so it is quite crowded with lots of people all around everywhere we go. A little boy — maybe six or seven years old — is proudly telling his mother what he’s learned about how humans have evolved. You can imagine what comes next.

Mother: “No, no… I’m pretty sure that’s not true.”

Boy: “Yes, it is! We evolved from apes and—”

Mother: “No, none of that is true. I mean, think about it. If people came from monkeys, then why are there still monkeys, huh?”

Boy: “Uh… but—”

Mother: “You see? It just doesn’t make sense.”

And off they went, the matter settled. I know these people are everywhere, especially in the US, but it was so hard to just keep on walking and not say something snarky.

As anyone who works in a family salon will know, cutting the hair of a child, especially a toddler, can be a lot of work. They’re fussy, they cry, they move around a lot, and they really don’t want to be there. That’s fine, really; they’re kids, and they don’t know how to process this scary stranger coming at their head with sharp-looking objects.

Along with giving us all some training, our salon encourages toddlers to sit on their parent’s laps when having a haircut, so they can be a calming presence and soothe them when it gets a bit too much for them.

A mother walks in with her two-year-old son who looks a bit overdue for a haircut. It’s not that his hair is long; it’s just scruffy and all over the place. Like a pet going to the vet, this child has just realized where he is, and he DOES NOT LIKE IT. He immediately begins wailing and fighting to leave. The mother picks him up and just… hands him to me.

Customer: “It’s [Son] with an appointment for [time half an hour ago]. I’d like a four on the top and a high fade on the sides, please.”

Me: “Okay. Would you like to take a seat here? We can place him on your lap so that—”

Customer: “Oh, I’m fine over here, thanks!”

She then takes a seat in the waiting area and starts browsing her phone.

Left holding a wailing, squirming child, I carry him over to our special child seat that looks like a racing car — steering wheel and everything. No dice. I try several methods, such as telling him how handsome he will look with a haircut, playing some “Paw Patrol” on my phone, and offering a lollypop (with the mother’s permission… when I finally got her attention). Sadly, nothing works.

Me: “Ma’am, I am not able to cut your son’s hair when he is like this. I’ve found that when children are sat with their parent, they are much more consolable.”

Customer: “Oh, he’s just being fussy. Just make a start and he’ll calm down.”

She looks back down at her phone.

For clarity, we know what fussy children are like. They will cry and moan and try to make a scene, but they’re generally okay, especially with the parent there to calm them down. They might cry through the whole “ordeal”, but they’ll sit there and accept that the haircut is going to happen.

This is not that.

Me: “Ma’am, this is not being fussy. He is in a state of emotional distress, and he is physically blocking any attempt I am making at approaching him. It would be unsafe for him if I even attempted a haircut. Please find a way to console him or bring him back when he has calmed down.”

Customer: *Tuts* “I’m sure you can figure it out. Isn’t this your job?”

Me: “My job, ma’am, is to safely cut your son’s hair. It isn’t to physically restrain him and force a haircut on him while he is in a state of emotional distress. As his mother, you either need to find a way to make this all right with him or come back another time.”

Customer: “You’re a totally useless hairdresser!”

Me: “And you seem like a totally useless mother. I have your name and number from the appointment book. Are you going to calm down your son or do I need to call someone?”

She glares at me but finally puts down her phone. She picks up her distraught son and storms toward the exit, but not before turning back to me.

Customer: “I was about to pass a super hard level on Candy Crush! I hope you’re happy!” *Leaves*

Another customer who saw the whole thing comments:

Customer #2: “Did she just compare parenting to Candy Crush?”