Raising A Monster Versus Monster Parenting

, , , , | Right | September 21, 2017

(Around the holidays, the tension is really high for people to get their prescriptions on time before going on vacation, so the pharmacy area is packed with close to forty people. I overhear this exchange as I’m ringing up a customer with an especially rude son.)

Me: “That will be $4.50, please.”

Customer: *digs in her purse for her wallet*

Customer’s Son: “Geez, stupid b****. Can’t you hurry up!? I want to go home, now!”

(A lady a few people back snaps her head towards him with a face that is the essence of “Oh, HELL no!”)

Customer’s Son: “God, Mom. Every time we go somewhere, it takes you for-f***ing-ever!”

(The lady a few people back is now breathing very loudly through her nose.)

Customer: “Sweetie, if you wait a minute, we can go get you a burger.”

Customer’s Son: “You bet like hell you are.” *points finger in her face* “You owe me big, woman. I could have been home hours ago out of this s*** heap with you. I’m bored out of my f***ing skull.”

(The lady a few people back is now looking anywhere but at the teenager, shaking her head violently, tapping the side of her purse, and muttering, “Mm-mm, mm-mmmm,” to herself.)

Customer: “Okay, look, honey. We’re done.”

Customer’s Son: “ABOUT D*** TIME, B****!”

(The customer and her son just pass around the corner, when the lady a few people back suddenly swings around, grabs both her teenage sons with one hand, and starts hitting them both with her purse.)

Lady: “DON’T.” *smack* “YOU.” *smack* “EVER.” *smack* “TALK.” *smack* “TO.” *smack* “ME.” *smack* “LIKE.” *smack* “THAT!” *smack*

(Some people are staring open-mouthed, others are cheering her on, but I am face-down on the counter, laughing hysterically. When it is the lady’s turn, I am still choking down tears.)

Me: “Yes, ma’am. How can I help you?”

Lady: “You’re laughing, but I’ll do the same to you if I ever hear you talking like that.”

Me: “Yes, ma’am. You’re a great woman.”

Lady: “That’s because I was taught how to respect my parents.”

(Faith in humanity restored. Thank you, purse lady!)

Running Away Runs In Their Blood

, , , , , | Learning | September 21, 2017

I took a zoology course in college and ended up with a very unique and laid-back professor.

He started the laboratory portion of our class with a story told to him by his own college professor about why we should follow lab protocols (closed-toed shoes, no food in the lab, tying back long hair, etc).

In the story, there was a young female student taking biology, and the lab section involved dissection of bullfrogs. These were semi-fresh dissection subjects and had minimal preservation (blood was still present and tissue was still… squishy). She had long, blonde hair, worn loose, and she was wearing a cream cashmere sweater. In the midst of the dissection with her lab partner, she leaned over the tray with the partially dissected frog on it, and her hair trailed through the blood. Her lab partner pointed it out to her and the student started screaming.

She stood up quickly and her hair slapped onto her face, which made her scream more, as she started shaking her head in a panicked attempt to get the blood off. The shaking spread blood-spatter down her cashmere sweater, and the situation continued to get worse.

Before the professor could intervene, she ran out of the lab and down the hall shrieking, and the other professors started poking their heads out. From their perspective, there was a highly distressed young lady covered in blood running down the hallway, so the police were called and it was a gigantic mess…

Amidst snickers, my class agreed that we would follow the lab protocols (and if we didn’t, we wouldn’t run out of the lab screaming bloody murder.)

Entitlement Can Be Disabling

, , , , , , , | Friendly | September 20, 2017

(I am attending the county fair, and I go to use the women’s bathroom. There is only one handicapped stall, and a polite woman using a wheelchair is waiting to use it. She even moves her chair to make sure I can get into an empty stall. Once I am done, she is still waiting, and I notice she is squirming a lot in her chair. I work with disabled individuals, and I know that those with mobility issues, especially those who are paralyzed, can have little to no control over their bladders.)

Me: “Are you all right?”

Woman In Chair: “Yes, it’s just… I’ve been waiting about ten minutes, and it’s getting harder and harder.”

Me: *I knock on the stall door* “Excuse me, are you all right?”

Woman In Stall: “See? I told you to hurry up; people are waiting! We are not leaving this stall until you go potty!”

Child: *also in stall* “I don’t have to go! I told you already!”

Woman In Stall: “I don’t care! We’re not leaving!”

Me: “Ma’am? I’m sorry, but there are people waiting to use this stall.”

Woman In Stall: “We’re in here!”

Woman In Chair: “I can wait, I think. I’m trying.” *squirms more* “Really, I don’t like to cause a scene.”

Me: *to the woman in the stall* “Ma’am, that is the only stall large enough for anyone with a wheelchair to use; you need to move so others can use it.”

Woman In Stall: “I have my daughter with me!”

Child: “I don’t have to go!”

(This goes around for about three minutes. The mother keeps yelling at her daughter to go potty, the daughter says she doesn’t have to, and I try my hardest to figure out how to get a woman who cannot walk at all into a stall that isn’t large enough for her wheelchair. It’s not happening, at all. Even the larger stalls all have tiny doors. The woman in her wheelchair is actually tearing up.)

Woman In Chair: “This is my anniversary trip. I don’t have any spare clothes, or another seat cushion, and I just can’t… I can’t wait.”

Me: *bangs on the stall door*

Woman In Stall: “FINE!”

(She comes out of the stall, revealing that her daughter has to be close to seven years old. They leave, and I move out of the way so the woman in the chair can get in. As I move, an eleven-year-old girl walks over and actually steps over the foot pedals of the woman in the wheelchair!)

Me: “Hey! Wait your turn, please.”

Woman In Chair: “Excuse me. I was next; I’ve been waiting.”

Girl: *stares straight at the woman in the wheelchair as she shoves the door shut and locks it, literally having to push the woman back to do so*

Woman In Chair: *crying* “Please! Please! I can’t hold it any longer. Every other stall is free! Please!”

(The girl ignores us, and a woman comes in and walks straight past us and to the handicapped stall. She begins talking to her daughter through the stall.)

Me: “Ma’am, your daughter pushed this woman aside, who has been waiting!”

Mother: “Oops, sorry about that.” *continues talking to her daughter, notices that the woman in the wheelchair is crying* “[Child], this is actually a very good lesson for you. Look how upset this woman is getting over a bathroom stall. That is ridiculous! You did nothing wrong; it’s stupid to get upset over a stall.”

Me: “Wow! I’d be more upset over the fact you and your daughter are b****es.”

(The mother throws a literal tantrum. Her daughter comes out, and the mother then refuses to move, standing in front of the handicapped stall and trying to get other women in the bathroom to side with her, repeatedly saying, “I don’t have to move if I don’t want to; am I right?” Finally, a woman who has been doing her makeup at the sink turns around and stares the mother down.)

Makeup Woman: “If I were you, I would be beyond embarrassed. First for your daughter’s obvious lack of manners, and then for your own. If you were one of my employees, or if my daughters acted even close to how yours has, I’d be appalled. You are at a community event, and you are a parent. Act like an adult.” *looks at the girl* “As for you, I hope that you do not grow up to act like you are acting now, or how your mother is, because I can assure you it is a mistake.”

(The mother grabbed her daughter’s unwashed hand and stormed out, a bunch of us laughing at her as she did so.)

It’s Rude To Feud

, , , | Right | September 18, 2017

(A customer comes up to the counter with two young children.)

Me: “Hi there. What can I get for you today?”

Customer: “Two tickets to [Popular Movie] and two small freezes.”

Me: “I’m sorry, but our machine isn’t working today. Would you like to substitute for a soft drink?”

Customer: *to his children, his tone suddenly shifting from polite to rude* “Throw things at her until the machine is fixed.”

Manager: *comes over to stand beside me, towering over both me and the customer, clearly having overheard what he said* “Hello, sir. Is there an issue over here?”

Customer: *clearly rattled* “Nope. None at all. I’ll take two small [sodas], ma’am.”

(I considered myself very lucky to have such a great manager, who looked out for us instead of bending over backwards for unreasonable people just to keep himself golden in the eyes of corporate.)

You Wanna Get Hazelnuts? Then Let’s Get Hazel-Nuts!

, , , , , | Friendly | September 14, 2017

(I’ve had a horribly rough day at work and want one of my favorite drinks, a butterbeer blended ice drink, similar to a frappuccino, from my regular coffee shop. It’s a rarely-purchased item, because it takes a lot of extra syrup shots and costs close to $8, but I figure the day I’ve had is worth the cost.)

Me: *to barista* “Can I get a butterbeer frappe, please?”

Customer: *behind me* “Oooh, what’s that?”

Me: “It’s five shots of hazelnut, four of vanilla, and two of caramel; then you top it with whip cream and caramel sauce. You can do the coffee blend or the vanilla blend; it tastes good either way. But it’s expensive!”

Customer: “Is it on their secret list?”

Me: “No, but a friend of mine who works here made the drink up, and we’ve always come here when we need one.”

(I sit down to wait for my drink, which comes out at the same time as the one for the other customer I’d been talking to earlier. However, when I grab for my drink, I realize it doesn’t have my name on it and start to look around for the other cup.)

Me: “Hey, [Barista], I thought you said mine was ready?”

Barista: “It is… wait, d*** it. I made a point to set that other girl’s drink to the side for her, because she was eyeing yours. She grabbed your cup, didn’t she? D*** it. I’ll make yours up again, sorry.” *glares at the other customer, who is looking smug*

Me: *approaching the customer’s table* “You have my drink.”

Customer: *smiles as she puts her straw in the drink and sips from it* “I don’t think so. I think I got the right one, and yours is on the counter still.” *when she sets it down, I notice my name on it and all the markings which clearly indicates she grabbed the wrong one*

Me: “Your name is [My Name]?”

Customer: “No.”

Me: “Then you got the wrong drink. Maybe you should give it back and get the drink you actually ordered, instead of stealing other people’s drinks.”

Customer: “Oh my God, get over yourself. Just buy yourself another drink.”

(When she raises her drink again, I make a point to smack it so drops out of her hand and falls on the floor.)

Me: “Oops. Seems like you don’t get that drink, either. Yours might still be on the counter, though.”

(She screamed at me for knocking the drink out of her hand, but I was already in such a rage that I walked out without grabbing my drink. My friend called me later about the incident and said that the customer had been kicked out when she threw both her drink and my replacement drink at the barista. I got a card for five free butterbeer frappes from the owner of the place when I called her to apologize for my actions. She said she’d have done the same thing. I did get stuck with mopping the floors as a way of making up for my actions, though.)

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