Don’t Be THAT Parent

, , , | Right | July 28, 2020

I work as a camp counselor at a day camp, and after several warnings, I have to restrict a camper’s participation in regular activities for punching and kicking other campers.

The camper’s mom comes to drop him off the next morning.

Mom: “Hi. Why did you exclude my son from playing with his friends yesterday?”

Me: “Ah, I believe we phoned home and spoke with your husband about this. [Camper] continued to kick other campers, so for their safety, I had him sit out from some of the activities. It’s protocol.”

Mom: “My son would never do that! I think you’re just picking on him.”

Me: “Ma’am, the other campers have bruises.”

Mom: “He wasn’t allowed to go swimming! You let him sit in the hot sun! You abused my child!”

Me: “He was in the shade and had plenty of water. I followed all procedures.”

Mom: “I shell out hundreds of dollars to this place so my kid can have fun with his friends! You’re a liar! I pay your salary, young lady! Go apologize to my son!”

Me: “If you have a problem with my job performance, you can speak with my supervisor. She’s in the camp office just around the corner.”

Mom: “I will! You can say goodbye to your employment after this! I hope you weren’t planning on paying for university with your salary because I might just sue you after this, too!”

Me: “All right, ma’am. I have campers to watch. Please direct your complaints to my boss.”

The mom storms off to the camp office. Little does she know that my supervisor does not put up with bulls*** from entitled parents. Fifteen minutes later, I get a call on my walkie to speak to my supervisor at the camp office. I leave my campers with a backup counselor and head over to the office.

Me: “Hi. Is this about [Camper]’s Mom? Did I do anything wrong?”

Supervisor: “I just wanted to make sure you were all right. I’ve terminated [Camper]’s enrollment in the camp so you won’t have to worry about him anymore. I also told his mom that if she ever tries to harass one of the employees again, she’ll be leaving in a police cruiser. Also, I made banana bread. Want some?”

This story is part of our July 2020 Roundup – the best stories of the month!

Read the next July 2020 Roundup story!

Read the July 2020 Roundup!

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Acting Like A Fish Out Of Water

, , , , , , | Right | July 28, 2020

I work in a fast food sandwich shop located within a supermarket. I am a closer and it’s about an hour until closing. I only have a trainee with me in the back doing dishes when a family comes in: a grandma, a mom, and three kids. They have already done their shopping and bought a live fish in a plastic bag full of water. The mom is arguing with one of the kids, demanding that he order a sandwich.

Kid: “I don’t care; I just want that chicken.”

He points to the teriyaki chicken.

Me: “Okay, would you like the whole thing toasted or just the meat warmed?”

Kid: “I don’t care. Yes, toast it.”

The kid gets into a fight with the grandma, but I don’t catch why they start fighting. He then runs around the corner with the grandma chasing him.

I prepare the sandwich and, as I am sliding it into the toaster I hear this awful noise come from near the soda machine. I assume they have broken something. The kid and the mom then begin to yell at the grandma and I quickly look over to see her bent over and picking up their fish, out of its bag. Apparently, they dropped it and the water got all over our rugs. The kid is yelling at her more and the mom begins yelling at him.

Kid: “You killed my fish!”

He runs out of the store and out of the supermarket. The mom goes after the kid, leaving the other two kids in the store. I gave the grandma a water cup for the fish and she then leaves to go back into the supermarket to get water for the fish. The two kids stand around awkwardly until the mom comes back with the little brat. They continue to fight and argue the entire time while ordering three more sandwiches, two pretzels, and three or four Icees. All the while, the kid is yelling about his grandma killing his fish, and she even paid for everything!

I have a conversation with the trainee when the family leaves.

Me: “So… there’s fish water on the rugs out in front of the soda machine.”

Trainee: “Umm… what? H-how?”

Me: “Yeah… Well, I’m gonna go call the manager.”

I called her but she did not answer. I ended up having to text it to her and she simply told me to hang the rugs to dry. The next day, I talked to the manager about it and she said, “That isn’t a call you get every day.”

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But Captain America Has Knocked Out Adolf Hitler Over 200 Times!

, , , , , , | Related | July 28, 2020

My dad is a single father. He’s great and all, but he had absolutely no idea how to raise a daughter by himself. He didn’t understand anything normal girls liked, so he went with what he understood. As such, I was raised on a diet of martial arts, outdoor survival, and marksmanship — basically anything he remembered from his time in the army.

As such, I’ve dealt with plenty of side effects of my lifestyle, like boys running away from me because I was better at fighting than they were and girls refusing to socialize with me as they perceived me as a violent brute. Once, we even had child services called on my dad when I went to school with a black eye.

But the single worst aspect I’ve had to deal with is this.

Me: “Dad. I hate you. Why did you have to teach me military tactics? You ruined Infinity War for me! I couldn’t enjoy the final battle as, when I saw it, all I saw was every stupid tactical mistake everyone made! No flanking, no use of cover, air support flying too low, no artillery…”

Dad: “Uh, oops?”

My glare intensifies.

Me: “Well, on the bright side, at least you know why they lost to Thanos.”

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Whining Gets You Wine

, , , , , , | Related | July 27, 2020



When I am seven or eight years old. My family is sitting down for dinner and, to my excitement, my mom and step-dad bought a two-litre bottle of Coca-Cola today. Having any kind of soda or junk food in the house is a miracle, so I am understandably eager to get myself a glass of bubbly goodness.

I wait until I have eaten some of my dinner before asking about it.

Me: “Can I have some pop?”

My step-dad interrupts before my mom can say no.

Step-Dad: “Here, why don’t you try some of this first?”

He proceeds to grab an honest-to-goodness glass cup — which makes me excited as us kids only ever get plastic — and pours it half-full with a dark liquid from a glass bottle the adults have been drinking from. He hands it to me, and I naively proceed to take a large mouthful… only to spit it all back into the cup in disgust! It isn’t juice; it is WINE.

Me: “Eww! This is gross! I don’t want this!”

Mom: *Angrily* “You just can’t waste it! You need it to drink it all. Drink it and then you can have pop.”

Me: *Starting to get upset* “What? No, please! I just want some Coke. Can I please have that?”

My mom goes to say no again when my step-dad says, “Sure,” gets up, and grabs the soda bottle. I begin to feel better as he comes back to the table… but then he pours the soda INTO the cup of wine, filling it to the top! I can already feel myself begin to get upset again.

Mom and my step-dad both stare at me.

Mom & Step-Dad: “Well?!”

I hesitantly try a sip and, unsurprisingly, it’s worse than before. I put the cup down immediately. 

Me: “I can’t drink this! It’s gross!”

Mom: *Snapping* “You’re going to drink it all; do you understand me?! You asked for that and I’m not going to waste it just because you changed your mind!”

Me: *Beginning to cry* “I didn’t want this. I just wanted some Coke. Please, I just want some pop — not this other stuff!”

Mom: *Almost yelling now* “You’re going to finish that glass and I’m not going to hear another word out of you otherwise. I don’t care if you have to sit here all night; do I make myself clear?”

I didn’t bother protesting further, because that would have only resulted in getting punished for back-talk. Instead, I just sat there and cried. She did keep me at the table after everyone else finished eating, berating me on and off for a few hours as she cleaned up, while I just sobbed and sobbed. I only got sent to bed — that wine-soda monstrosity still untouched — because it was a school night.

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Better A Ticket Than A Toe-Tag

, , , , | Legal | July 26, 2020

My mum is a very nice lady, but you don’t want to cross her or hurt her kids. That doesn’t mean we get away with everything; on the contrary. Her “mum sense” is very sensitive; she often knows of our wrongdoings almost before they happen. We are usually very honest in confessing, as lying often leads to a more severe punishment than the transgression itself.

One day my brother, about fifteen and fairly shy and quickly intimidated, returns home from school and tells my parents that he got a ticket going to school this morning for crossing while the light was red. He swears that the light changed when he was already on the crossing with his bike. The officer, however, bullied him into acknowledging he crossed the road during the red light and gave him a ticket.

My mum studies the ticket and ushers my brother into the car, and my parents and brother drive to the police department.

Mum: “Where do I need to pay?”

Police Officer: “Excuse me?”

Mum: “Where do I need to pay? Apparently, my son crossed [Busiest Crossroads in town] during rush hour and all he has to show for is a ticket. I’m happy to pay the ticket and not the undertaker, so where do I need to pay?”

My mum makes enough noise to attract the attention of the commissioner and he overhears the last part.

Commissioner: “Can I see the ticket, please?”

He mumbles under his breath, “[Officer] again,” before speaking to my mum.

Commissioner: “I agree, it would be sheerly impossible to cross the road there at that hour without getting hurt. You don’t need to worry about the ticket; we will take care of it.”

It later turned out that the officer issuing the ticket had a track record of very readily ticketing teenagers for real or imagined facts. I don’t know what happened to the officer, but we never heard anything about the ticket again.

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