I just started as a lifeguard two weeks ago. I am still a tad nervous about certain rules. My boss says, “Go with your gut instinct. If you’re not comfortable, blow the whistle and stop it.”

I am in the office making phone calls about swim lessons when one of the guards needs to go home. I am to cover her once she leaves. As she comes in, she explains how these certain brothers, about the ages of ten to fourteen, are coming in. They are regulars but they are notorious troublemakers. She warns me that they are a handful and wishes me luck. I mark each boy with a colored marker, which designates how deep they are allowed to swim, and they jump in.

At first, they are pretty easy going. They are shooting hoops at the small basketball net we have. Soon, they start to hang on the rim of the net, which it states clearly in big, bold letters, “Do NOT hang on the rim/net.” I blow my whistle. 

Me: “Hey, guys, please don’t hang on the net. It could fall on you or it could break.” 

Boy #1: “Tsk…” 

I am ignored by the other. Then, they find the small beach balls and start to whip them at each other, especially in the face. There is another family in the open swim area, as well, two parents and their two young children. They occasionally get hit with the ball, too, and get annoyed. I walk over to the edge of the pool.

Me: “Guys, you can throw and catch the balls, but please be respectful of other members.”

Boy #2: “Okay. Hey, let’s go down to the deep end.” 

Boy #1: “Yeah, sounds good.”

I’m thinking by now, “Awesome. I got them to still have fun but keep the other people happy, too.”

Haha, no.

From here, they decide to race across the pool deck and median whipping balls at each other. 

First off, the median is for lifeguards only. It’s the small strip of wall that allows us to walk in between the kiddy pool/shallow end and the lap pool. Second, there is no running on the deck. Period.

These two are all over the place, jumping over the wall and the railing, sliding under the netting, jumping and running on everything. The other guard that was on with me blows her whistle a few times; they just ignore it. Same with me.

Me: “Guys! You need to stop right now. No running on the deck; you can slip and hurt yourself. If you don’t stop, you will be asked to leave immediately.” 

Boy #1: “Whatever.”

They ignore me and continue it. I’m getting so frustrated because I’m still a newbie and I’m still unsure of myself. I don’t want to be the bad guy, but I finally psyche myself up enough courage to say they need to leave. Just as I am about to, the eldest brother throws a ball right into his little brother’s face, and then proceeds to slip on the pool deck. I rush down to help him.

Me: “Are you okay?! This is why you need to follow the pool rules; people get hurt.”

He’d scraped his knee and elbows on the tiles. He grabbed his brother and they ran away, embarrassed and angry. I heard them curse a few times while storming out.

I have seen them back once, but they couldn’t swim because the swim team was using the pool.

Worst part is, I’ve heard from my boss they still keep ignoring the rules and that wasn’t the first time they’d hurt themselves.

Related:
Pooling Together All The Bad Behavior

I’m an assistant manager at a supermarket. There are two others there, as well, and only two are needed at customer service, so I help out with bagging. The cashier is new and somewhat inexperienced. If a customer comes up with a bag of bread that they’ve selected themselves, we’re either supposed to count them if it’s a small number, or ask them how many there are, and if it looks reasonable, we take them at their word.

Cashier: “Hello! How are you, ma’am?”

Customer: “Fine, thanks.”

The cashier starts scanning items and comes to a bag of bread.

Cashier: “How many?”

Customer: “Six.”

The cashier puts six into the transaction, but with the bag as big as it is, I know there’s no way it could only contain six. I pull the clear bag out of the brown bag and quickly count them after she sends the bag down my way. I count fifteen.

Me: “[Cashier], it’s fifteen, not six.”

She turns to me because she didn’t hear, so I repeat it. The customer gives me a dirty look.

Customer: “That’s not right.”

Me: “There were fifteen breads; you said there were only six.”

Customer: “I know, but that’s not right.”

Me: “What’s not right?”

Customer: “You make it look like I’m trying to steal.”

Me: “Ma’am, she asked how many breads there were, and you deliberately said that there were a lot fewer than there actually are.”

Customer: “I don’t care. Get me your manager!”

My manager was nearby in the customer service area, so I went to get her. As I walked through the door and explained it to her, the customer barged through the door, like she was going to attack me or something. The owner, a huge, over-six-feet-tall bald man, grabbed her and pinned her to the ground while I called the police. She ranted and raved, but since we had the security footage, she was escorted out by the cops.

I’m at a Mongolian-grill-style restaurant with my family; I’m about fifteen or sixteen. While we’re eating, a family comes in with three children. The children in question immediately begin to terrorize the entire place by running around, screaming, chasing each other, pounding on the fish tank, throwing chopsticks and napkins, tripping up the staff, etc.

The parents are entirely oblivious, and most of the other patrons are near breaking point. Eventually, I finish my current plate of food and decide to go for a second plate.

My Brain: *To me* “Look out! There to the left, incoming child on a collision course. At the current course and speed the child will impact in about five seconds. He’s at ramming speed, so I recommend evasive action before he hits us!”

Me: *To my brain* “Naw, we’re okay. That kid will probably dodge out of the way. Maintain heading. I’m hungry.”

My Brain: *To me* “Sir, I highly recommend evasive maneuvers; we’re two seconds away from collision and he’s not veering off!”

Me: *To my brain* “Too late; brace for impact!”

The child runs headfirst into my elbow, almost knocking the plate out of my hands. He runs off crying. A few minutes later, I’ve returned to the table with my food. My family overhears this from the other table.

One of the parents is trying to comfort the child, who is incoherently crying.

Parent: “Oh, it’s okay, sweetie. What happened; did you hit a table?  Yeah, you have to be careful in restaurants because the tables are all over the place, okay, kiddo?”

My Sister: “I bet that table is feeling pretty proud of himself, isn’t he?”

I’m still referred to as “the table” in situations that involve rampant children.

My siblings are having a massive pool party with their friends. I’m in the pool, too, just barely managing to stay out of the line of fire. They’re roughhousing, pushing each other in the pool, being rough with the dog, and throwing his toy in the pool so he’ll jump in, and my sister and her boyfriend are openly flirting. 

Mom: “Okay, I’m going inside. Keep an eye on things, [My Name]!”

Me: “Wait, you’re leaving me in charge?!”

Mom: “Yep.”

Me: “Teenagers scare me!”

Mom: “They scare me, too!”

After she left, one kid started running around the pool with a tomahawk, and my brother was chasing him with a hunting knife. Later, my mom admitted she was worried about the pool toys being destroyed. 

Cue My Chemical Romance’s “Teenagers”!

I volunteer at a popular zoo which has a number of walkthrough exhibits, including a lorikeet enclosure where visitors can buy little pots of nectar to feed the birds. I notice that a number of young children have climbed a display on the other end of the path and are holding up the pots of nectar to the birds in the trees. This is VERY dangerous!

Me: “Excuse me! Excuse me, could you please get off there? Don’t do that!”

Parent: “Oh, shut up!”

Me: “Excuse me?”

Parent: “Don’t do this, don’t do that! Why can’t you let them have their fun?”

Me: “Because the rules exist for a reason.”

Parent: “Well, you can take your rules and go somewhere else!”