You Can Scream Your Lungs Out But They Still Won’t Listen

(It’s nine pm. I am outside working “curb side” service, which allows customers to drive up near the store and have us load their bags. A lady comes up in an SUV loaded with her kids. I’m momentarily confused because we don’t have any carts with her groceries, but then she comes around to explain.)

Mom: “Hi, my son was in a car accident. We just got out of the hospital and I just need to grab a few items and it’ll take five minutes. Can I leave my car here?”

Me: “Well, no, we might have other customers come and we need this area clear for carry out.”

Mom: “Well, my son has broken ribs and a punctured lung and I don’t want to leave him.”

Me: “Well, if it’s only going to take a minute, I guess it’d be okay if you park a little ways down.”

(It was a fire lane area, but I’d seen people park there before for brief periods of time, so I figured it’d be okay.)

Mom: “Yeah, thank you!”

(She parks and goes inside. Since I don’t have any curb side orders to pack, I go over to talk to the kid, just some casual chit-chat. He’s 18 or 19 and the mom wasn’t lying; he’s clearly under pain killers and pretty out of it. Unfortunately, the other kids in the car are the most unruly children I’ve ever seen. At one point, one of them, about 10 years old, gets out of the car holding a one-year-old and just starts running around the car.)

Son: “Get the f*** back in the car!”

Kid: “You can’t tell me what to do!”

(The son has to get out of the car for the kid to obey. I have to go back and work, and after being busy for a while, I’m surprised to see the car is still there. It’s been nearly an hour and our security lead comes out. I explain the mom said she said she was only going to take minutes, and he goes over to ask them to move since it’s on a fire lane and has been parked there for almost an hour.)

Son: “You guys f****** said we could part here. This is bulls***!”

Security Guy: “You’ve been parked here for almost an hour and it’s a fire lane. You have to move.”

(The son isn’t pleased but he limps around to the driver’s seat and parks in a spot only about 20 feet further from where they were parked. Finally, the mom comes out of the store. It’s been about an hour and a half and the bags are literally stacked over the top of the cart. She finds her car, and then comes back up to me at the curb side. A coworker happens to be taking a break with me, and he had also seen this whole thing play out.)

Mom: “Are you f****** kidding me?! My son was just in the hospital and has a punctured lung.”

Me: “Ma’am, you said you were only going to take a few minutes and you were parked on a fire lane.”

Mom: *absolutely steaming at this point* “What are your names?!”

Coworker: “It’s [Coworker]. Let me spell it out for you.” *spells his last name*

Me: “Yeah, mine is [My Name]. Feel free.”

(She storms off back to the car and for a second I think it might be over, but no. She gets the son and they both walk back up to the store. I’ve already grabbed the manager and security lead and we meet right inside the store. The mom is screaming and cussing him out.)

Mom: “YOU SAID WE COULD PARK THERE! YOU HAD NO RIGHT TO MAKE MY SON MOVE! HE WAS JUST IN THE HOSPITAL!”

Security: “Like I said, it’s a fire lane and you were parked there for more than an hour.”

Me: “You clearly said it was only four or five items.”

Mom: “F*** you! My son was in the hospital. See? Show them, honey.”

(Walking up to the store, I had seen the kid stop and cough pretty violently, probably, you know, because he shouldn’t have been walking around with a punctured lung. Now, he spits at the feet of the manager, and some of it is clearly blood. My manager has finally had enough.)

Manager: “I need you to get the h*** out of my store, and don’t bother coming back.”

(The mom finally left with her son. That was probably the fastest a night at work ever went by.)