A Santa Existential Crisis

, , , , | Working | December 22, 2017

(I am assisting a line of parents when a woman storms up to the counter. She seems rather upset. This happens close to Christmas.)

Mother: “Sorry, but could you tell me where [Coworker] is, please?”

(I shout for her.)

Coworker: “Hi! Can I help?”

Mother: “Did you tell my daughter that Santa doesn’t exist?”

(Silence falls on the room.)

Coworker: “How old is she?”

Mother: “Five.”

Coworker: “Yes.”

Mother: “Why?”

Coworker: “Because Christmas is nothing more than a commercial holiday nowadays, and your daughter doesn’t need to be told a MAN is going to be getting her everything she wanted for Christmas.”

Mother: *with a rigid smile* “It was also the only reason what was looking forward to Christmas this year, after seeing her father die right before her eyes last Christmas Day.”

Coworker: *going pale* “Oh, umm—”

Mother: “So, thank you. Thank you for ruining Christmas. The first two Christmases my daughter is going to remember: seeing her father collapse on a dollhouse they were building together, and learning that Santa doesn’t exist from a virtual stranger. Thank you, you self-righteous b****!”

(The woman ran out of the daycare in hysterics. Everyone else then turned towards [Coworker], and she barely had time to escape before utter chaos ensued. We lost a lot of business that day (to which we have yet to recover), and [Coworker] was let go for her conduct. I got in touch with the woman with condolences and apologies. She accepted, but said she wouldn’t be coming back. I don’t blame her.)

Scream Bloody Murder At The Sight Of Blood

, , | Healthy | December 11, 2017

(My son is 18 months old. I am planning on entering him in daycare and returning to work. I check around, and choose a daycare in part because of the above and beyond training the staff all have, including comprehensive (instead of emergency only) first aid training, annually. About three weeks after I enroll him, I get a call at work from a frantic daycare worker, who speaks perfect English, despite what happens next.)

Worker: “Your son was climbing on a chair and fell. He hit his head quite badly. There is a lot of blood coming out of his ear, and he hasn’t moved in 15 minutes!”

Me: “Is he talking or doing anything!”

Worker: “No, he hasn’t done anything at all since he fell. Maybe you should come pick him up.”

Me: “Call an ambulance. That’s very serious. Call right away. I’ll be there soon!”

(I throw my keys at my boss, barely tell him that my son is hurt and I have to go, run out of work, and drive like an idiot, all while picturing the most horrible things, and arrive just as the ambulance gets there.  The ambulance attendants and I rush inside to find my son calmly lying in a staff member’s lap, getting read to, trying to reach up and grab the book closer to himself. When he sees me he gets up and runs over to me, gabbing away the whole time. The staff member I talked to originally turns to me and the ambulance attendants.)

Worker: “That’s the first time he’s gotten up since he fell. He’s been lying in her lap reading books for the last half hour. We checked him over and he’s nicked his earlobe, which HAS bled quite a lot. That’s why I thought his mom should pick him up, but she insisted I call the ambulance, so I thought I better comply. Lawsuits, you know.” *stupid giggle*

(The ambulance attendants were extremely disgruntled to be called out for something that clearly wasn’t an emergency of any sort, and the worker keeps trying to blame me (‘New parents! Always overreacting to normal childhood bumps and bruises. Insisted I call an ambulance, etc.’) I may have lost it a little bit, yelling at her that her wildly inaccurate description of his injuries is why I insisted on her calling the ambulance, and that she had caused not only a huge waste of time for emergency services, but also extreme anxiety for me in her effort to make the story seem more interesting, or whatever her problem was.)

Make You Laugh Like A Donkey

, , , , , , | Learning | November 12, 2017

(The summer before I start fourth grade, at age nine, I spend most days at a summer school/daycare hybrid with lots of kids up to my age. It’s brilliantly organized; each week has a specific educational theme, with snacks and activities and guests all focused on that theme all week, often including a Friday field trip related to it, too. One week in particular is focused on animals or farm life or something. We have a guest speaker who is telling us about different farm animals.)

Guest: “And what is this animal?”

Class: “A horse!”

Guest: “Right! What about this one? Kind of looks similar…”

Class: “A donkey!”

Guest: “That’s right! And did you know that sometimes a horse and a donkey will have a baby? Does anyone know what we call a half-horse, half-donkey?”

(My hand shoots up enthusiastically.)

Guest: “Yes?”

Me: “A JACKA**!”

(The class, and some of the instructors, erupt in laughter.)

Guest: *awkwardly* “Well, no, we call it a mule.”

Kids Grab The Darndest Things

, , , , | Learning | October 24, 2017

(I work in a daycare in the toddler room. I work the closing shift, meaning a floater and I are usually there by ourselves from about 4:30 on. Today, we have only a couple kids left, which gives us a chance to interact one-on-one. I am hanging out with one of our more precocious two-year-olds. She is sitting on my lap, facing me. She is expecting a little brother or sister at home, and is talking to me about it. She segues into talking about breastfeeding, since her parents have explained this is how the baby will eat; this is not unusual for our clientele. Unfortunately, toddlers have zero concept of modesty or personal space, and this happens:)

Little Girl: “Mommy will feed the baby with her boobies.”

Me: “Really?”

Little Girl: “Uh-huh.” *without warning, she reaches out to grab mine through my shirt* “Do you got boobies?”

Me: “…”

Pee-ple Are The Worst

| USA | Right | July 27, 2017

(I work as the late teacher at a daycare, meaning I am the last one to leave. It is Halloween and most of the kids are picked up early to avoid traffic due to some of the roads being closed around the daycare for trick-or-treating. All the other teachers got to leave about 30 minutes early, but of course I have one late kid. Finally the kid gets picked up and I’m actually going to get to leave about five minutes early. As I am walking out the card access-only door, a woman and child rush in.)

Woman: “He needs to go to the bathroom!”

Me: “Um, sorry, we don’t—”

Woman: *cuts me off and rushes through the door before I can close it* “It’s okay, he knows where it is!”

Me: *now to no one* “—have public bathrooms.”

(I ended up having to wait an extra ten minutes to make sure they did not get into anything in the daycare.)

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