When you’re a kid, you think your parents are pretty much perfect. But growing up means a lot of tough realizations, and one of them is that our parents are people, just like anyone else. And sometimes, people are the WORST—being a parent doesn’t change that.
1. Like Taking Candy From A Baby
This happened about an hour ago. I was grocery shopping and decided to pick up a few bars of chocolates, which is when I heard the ear-piercing scream of what can only be an entitled kid. He looked like he was somewhere between five and six years of age. He began to violently pull on his mother’s arm, pointing at my chocolate bars and yelling at her to buy him some.
Then the mom says to me, “Did you have to pick that up in front of him?” Me: Ummm…What??? Mom: Can’t you see it’s upsetting my child? Me: Well, that’s a you problem. Mom: (In between trying to get her demon spawn to act like a human being) You need to put them back. My son only started demanding chocolates when he saw you take them. Just put them back. Now! You can get some later. You shouldn’t make kids jealous!
I just smiled at her and approached the chocolate shelves. But instead of putting them back, I actually took a few more. It earned me a glare from her and earned her another round of tantrums from the kid. Petty? Yes. Satisfying? Heck yes!
2. Getting The Vapors
I’m a cocktail waitress, and I’m also seven months pregnant. Now, obviously, I don’t drink while pregnant or drink on the job ever. A woman, the Karen, comes in with what I’m assuming was her husband and son and daughter and asks to be seated for lunch. We’re not really a restaurant, but we do have a small appetizer menu with sandwiches and wings and stuff.
I give them menus and Karen says, “But, wait, do you work here?” “Yep.” “But you’re pregnant, you can’t work here if you’re pregnant.” “I work here, I don’t drink here,” I say with a laugh, trying to keep the mood light. The woman looks me over and says, “Have you taken any prenatal courses? Do you really think that’s responsible to have your unborn baby in here?” This is where I made an error.
I get defensive about anyone asserting I’m a bad mother, obviously. So I said, “Well, you’ve brought your kids in here.” “Yes, and what kind of example do you think you’re setting for them?” I’m still collecting my thoughts at this point when they grunt and wave me away. I figure I can kiss my tip goodbye but hopefully that’ll be the end of the discussion.
I see them flagging down the bartender after a few minutes and figure they’re ready, so I go over. Karen asks to speak to a manager. Now, they haven’t even gotten drinks yet, so nothing about my abilities could really be wrong yet. I just ask if there’s anything I can help them with, and her husband (Mr. Karen) says really sternly, “No, just a manager, didn’t you hear my wife?”
The place is too small for a manager, it’s just servers and bartenders and two co-owners. The one who’s working is in the back on a phone call and will be MAD if I go and bother her. I realize they’re probably still uncomfortable with my being pregnant so say, “Maybe Ella (The only other server) can help?” But Karen just gets up to physically look for the manager.
I admit defeat and go back to drag her off her call. The owner tried not to let on how mad she is about being disrupted and goes over with a big smile to ask if there’s anything she can help them with. Karen informs her, as though it’s urgent breaking news, “Your server is pregnant.” The owner says she’s aware and asks if they’d prefer a different server.
Karen: No no no, she can’t be a drink girl if she’s pregnant. Owner: I assure you, none of our employees drink on the clock. Especially not our pregnant ones. If you’d prefer I can have Ella serve you…Mr. Karen: I don’t want my kids seeing this! Owner: Maybe I’m missing something. Seeing what, exactly? Mr. Karen (talking really slowly and condescendingly): A. pregnant. woman. around. all. this. alcohol.
Me: I don’t know what you’re insinuating, but I would never drink during pregnancy. Then the dumbest thing I’ve ever heard comes out. Karen: Look honey, didn’t you take a health class in junior high? With a drink right under you half the time, vapor is absorbed into your blood through the air and then that blood goes to the fetus and poisons it.
The owner and I exchange a look and realize we won’t get anywhere with her. Owner: So, we can have Ella serve you, or I’m afraid there’s not much else we can do. Mr. Karen: We’re not leaving until she’s placed on maternity leave. Or better yet, fired! Owner: We can’t help you. Mr. Karen: I’ll call the authorities! You’re an accomplice to child endangerment!
Owner: There is no child endangerment to speak of sir, please leave. Karen (getting crocodile teary): YOU MAY NOT THINK A FETUS IS A CHILD BUT I WAS TAUGHT TO BELIEVE LIFE BEGINS AT CONCEPTION AND I WILL STAND UP FOR ALL LIVING THINGS BIG AND SMALL BECAUSE THAT IS WHAT MY LORD AND SAVIOR WANTS ME TO DO! The entire time she’s delivering this tearful speech she’s looking around expecting others to, I don’t know, join in with her? Applaud?
Owner: You’re disturbing my customers and if you don’t leave you’re trespassing and I’ll have to escalate this, which I really don’t want to do. Karen: JESUS IS LOVE AND JESUS SAID THIS IS NOT OKAY. JUST BECAUSE YOU THINK IT’S OKAY TO HARM A CHILD IF IT’S SMALL ENOUGH—This is an Irish pub and the owners are devout Catholics, but she wasn’t having any of this. Owner: HEY. I don’t need anyone to tell me what Jesus said. I need you to please leave.
Mr. Karen: I’m calling the authorities. Owner: You do that. We just stop trying to service their table. As we all wait for the officers to arrive, Karen keeps trying to give her sermon, but there was a game on that people had come to watch and eventually everyone yelled at her until she piped down. Enter Officer 1 and Officer 2.
Officer 1: We received a call. Is there a Mr. Karen in here somewhere? Mr. Karen: Right here officers! Officer 1: You said you were witnessing child endangerment—are the parties involved still in the bar? They point me out. I pretend not to notice because I’m worried the officers will take them outside and I won’t be able to watch any more fireworks.
Officer 2: So what exactly was going on? Karen: That woman was drinking! She’s pregnant, you can plainly see she’s very pregnant. Before I can go over and tell them she’s lying about my drinking, the officers look at each other and look back at the Karen family. Officer 2: That’s not against the law. Karen: WHAT?!?!!!!!??! Mr. Karen: Look here—
Officer 1: It’s definitely not recommended, but it isn’t against the law. Now, do you know the woman, is she a friend of yours? Family? Karen: She works here. In a bar. And she’s pregnant! Mr. Karen: I want to see this place’s license revoked. Officer 2: So, listen, she isn’t doing anything wrong. What I can do is talk to her, but we can’t take any action beyond that. Is there anything else you observed that you’d like to report?
So the second officer comes over to me and takes me to a quiet spot while the first is getting their personal information and taking the rest of the statement. Karen is crying again and I assume bemoaning being the last bastion of good Christian morality in this bar. Officer 2 introduces himself and congratulates me on the pregnancy and says I probably overheard why they were called.
He starts to offer me some public resources for new mothers, parenting classes, etc. I didn’t want to interrupt him, so was waiting for the right moment to interject with my plea of innocence. That’s when other patrons come over, thinking I’m in trouble and start defending me. We have plenty of regulars who know me and they would not let this stand.
Some even complained to the officers that the owner had asked the Karen party to leave and they’d continued to make a scene. So both the officers go talk to the owner, who said she was just about to call them herself on account of the trespassing, but sirens outside are bad for business and she was hoping the Karens would eventually leave on their own.
The officers tell the Karen party they need to leave. Mr. Karen: This is a public place. I have every right to be here if I want! Officer 1: No sir, this is a private business, and the business owners have asked you to leave. It sounds like more than once, but at least once since we’ve been here. Karen: THIS IS A DISGRACE. THIS IS AN AFFRONT TO…TO…TO SCRIPTURE AND CHILD SAFETY AND—
Officer 2: I understand you’re upset. Let’s talk about it outside. (He places a hand on Mr. Karen and gives him a firm look.) This next part was said as Mr. Karen walks out backward so he can keep yelling at us, but bumping into things every step of the way. Mr. Karen: I’ll be contacting the authorities about your license. Bump I happen to be close personal friends with the mayor! Crash And you two, I want badge numbers. Don’t think we’re done here because we haven’t even bang started!
So the officers took them out and as it was told to me by a regular who left around the same time, walked the Karens to their car, which was improperly parked in a handicap space. For which they were ticketed. They did make a complaint to the liquor authority, claiming, among many things, that we served minors. We were investigated but obviously came up fine.
3. Safety Last
I am at the park with my daughter and girlfriend, helping my daughter play on the slide. Meanwhile, this crazy kid is running around. Now, I am trying to make it a personal habit to always carry my piece with me wherever I go. I fully conceal it as much as possible, but I’m guessing when I reached up to put my baby girl on the slide, the movement must have revealed it.
The next thing I know, I feel a tug at my shirt where my piece is, so I quickly turn around. It’s the crazy kid. The conversation goes as follows: Me: What’s up little buddy? Kid: Let me see your gat. We are playing cowboys and he doesn’t have one (points to friend) Me: No, no, sorry pal. No one can have this but me. It’s dangerous.
Kid: (looks angry, pretends to shoot me, and runs off). Over? I hoped so…but no. Soon I hear an “ahem.” Good lord, it’s his mother. Me: What? Mom: Why can’t my kid play with your toy? Me: What toy? Mom: The toy on your hip. Me: Um no sorry, this is real and dangerous. Mom: So just take the bullets out and let him play with it.
Me: How about NO. Mom: (baffled look) Well, I never. What’s the harm of him playing with it if it’s unloaded? Me: I’m sure you haven’t. Loaded or not, I’m not letting a child play with a weapon you halfwit. Don’t you have someone else’s business to mind? What an annoying encounter that put a damper on my already sour day. Some people…
4. Let The Music Play
This just happened to me and I’m both shocked and laughing my butt off. I was on a bus on my way into college, listening to a punk band I’ve recently got heavily into, a band from Brixen in the German-speaking region of South Tyrol in Italy called Frei. Wild. The bus is fairly packed, so I’m right at the front of the bus where you’d park a stroller or a wheelchair.
A woman with a stroller gets onto the bus and sits in the only free seat, next to me. She looks down at my phone (why? I still can’t work it out) and sees that I’m listening to a song called “Sieger Stehen Da Auf, Wo Verlier Liegen Bleiben” (roughly translated, rather aptly, to “Winners Stand Where Losers Fall”). She then yanks one of my earphones out. “You live in Scotland, stop listening to your awful Polish music. God, all you Polaks are all the same, refusing to be decent citizens and speak English.”
Now, I’m Scottish. Born and bred. Apart from a week in Amsterdam, two weeks in Morocco, three weeks in the States, and a week in France, I’ve stayed very much in the UK my entire life. Never been to Poland, or Germany for that matter. I eventually had enough of her, so I tried to put her in her place: “This is German Music. Also, I was born here. To Scottish parents.”
Karen tried to make her rebuttal, but I got there first. “Also, how does me listening to some punk rock that happens to be in German effect you? I have my headphones, you can’t hear it.” Karen’s eyes lit up as if she’d won the Karen lottery. “Why are you listening to that sinful, demonic music in public? You’re gonna scare my kid.”
I look in the stroller. “Firstly, your child is sound asleep. Secondly, I have my headphones in, you can’t hear it, I can’t hear it. Screw off and let me listen to my music in peace. Maybe Polish people aren’t the problem in this country. Maybe it’s stuck-up judgmental witches like you.” As I called her out on this, she whacked the stop button, and yeeted herself and the stroller right off the bus at the next stop. Thank God.
5. For Better Or Worse
This happened to my best friend who I will call JJ, and it happened about two years ago. JJ came out to his family when he was about 27 years old. At that point, aside from them, everyone else in his life knew he was gay. And there was a good reason for it. As he expected, his parents reacted horribly to the news, and basically disowned him right then and there.
They later told both extended families and his uncles and grandparents to cut him off too. His maternal grandmother went as far as to try to take him out of his dead maternal grandfather’s will. She failed, due to the will’s conditions: No one could modify it, not even the main representative AKA grandma, and homosexuality was not listed in the conditions that could made the inheritance void.
Whether grandpa didn’t expect it to happen or he just didn’t care, take your guess. JJ was the partial owner of some properties and also got a substantial amount of money, which got even bigger when he reclaimed in cash his corresponding share of the house. This forced his family to buy them from him. JJ didn’t need the money actually, as by this point he was a moderately successful professional and lived in his own apartment.
Still, it severed any binding he had with his family that could become a problem in the future. He still kept good relationships with his sister and most of his cousins, but even if they invited him to family gatherings, he always declined. Fast forward three years and JJ is getting married to his long-time boyfriend Sky, whose family was the polar opposite of JJ’s.
When they found out, they made “Royal Wedding” style plans for their elopement. They were (well, are) very wealthy, and JJ contributed to the whole extravaganza with a portion of his inheritance. He invited as his guests his friends (including yours truly as his best man), some co-workers, his sister, and the cousins he still spoke to. It was a lot of people!
The wedding was amazing, done in an underground (literally speaking, it was a freaking cave!) venue. His sister took him to the altar, there was an orchestra playing, etc. Fairy tale style. And the after-party well…I can’t remember half of it, but it was from another world. They said go big or go home, and they really went BIG. But enough of the context! You came here for the juicy part.
JJ told the “good cousins” not to tell anything to his parents or other family members about the wedding, because he didn’t want trouble. But obviously, the next day, their social media accounts were full of pictures and word spread like wildfire. At first, it was small things. He started receiving calls from some aunts about why they weren’t invited, the “bad” cousins complained via Facebook, and other nuisances.
He just ignored them and blocked numbers and accounts. He did not want or need to give explanations when they had all made clear their position years prior. But one day, Satan came directly to his door. His parents, his maternal grandma, and his paternal grandparents—all the “heads” of the families—came to visit. How they found out where he lived is still a mystery to him.
Sky was working and JJ was alone in the house, so there was no one to help him against the crook squad (his name, not mine). It seems at first they tried to be “gentle,” asking how he could leave them out of such an important event that directly affected the family (dudes, really?) and things like that. His mom even used the, “You took away my chance of seeing my only male son marry” argument.
He pointed out that they were the ones that expelled him from the family and that they hated everything gay (half of that wedding was an LGBT crowd if you are wondering). They classified his exile as a “misunderstanding.” The bickering between the six continued for a long time until he got tired and asked what they wanted, as he could not “re-do” the wedding.
One of the grandmas spilled the beans: “Ungrateful brat, at least compensate us for not inviting us to a wedding WE paid for!” That was the problem! They were mad he had used the “family” money on the ceremony. He told me they actually thought he paid for everything and had burned out all the inheritance when it was more a 30-40% of the deal,
They wanted the money back, and they had brought all the grandparents with them as additional emotional leverage. As I told you earlier, JJ had made sure that money had no bindings to his family anymore, but for some reason, they still believed it was theirs and were mad he had spent it. He confronted them, and they threw away their facade.
What came next was a serious fight in which both JJ and his father ended up hitting each other until the neighbors called the authorities. Charges were pressed on both sides but it didn’t go anywhere really. However, he was able to ask for restraining orders against all of them. To this day, JJ is shaken about the event.
He had prepared himself for years knowing that his family would hate him because of his sexuality, but he still retained some hope that far in the future they could mend things. He lost that hope after they tried to emotionally scam him.
6. All The Way To The Top
About a year ago, I was running a small video game tournament in the small company I owned. The waitlist had a full list of 16 people, and it was fine, until one entitled parent ruined it for everyone. So we were starting up the games when a dad ran into the store with his son. Dad: We’re here for the tournament. Me: Oh sorry, but the list is full. Dad: Well then, make some room. Me: I can’t do tha—
Dad: Listen, I can get you fired with the push of a button. Me: How? Dad: I have been friends with the CEO of this company for a long time. Me: Then call him. I watch him make a fake phone call then hang up. Because I know something he doesn’t know. Dad: He says you’re fired. Me: That’s funny, considering I am the CEO. His look of shock still makes me laugh to this day.
7. Everybody’s Got A Story
This encounter happened about seven months ago. About a year ago, I was diagnosed with cancer of the nasal cavity (stage 2). The tumor was quite large, but thankfully hadn’t spread. To get it removed, I first had to undergo aggressive chemotherapy to make it smaller. Thanks to the chemo, I had severe alopecia (hair loss), which made most of my hair and even eyebrows and eyelashes fall out.
At some point, I had to go bald, but I wore a wig, because I didn’t want to look scary. I’m 6’4″ and pretty muscular, so I thought people would assume wrong things about me. So once, after a long chemo session in the hospital, I took the bus home. There’s only one bus that goes from the hospital to where I live, so I took that one, only to see it was absolutely packed.
I felt like garbage thanks to the chemo, so I asked a middle-aged dude to let me sit. He was very understanding and gave me his spot without complaining. Two stops later, enter entitled mom, a lovely whale with an “I demand a meeting with the CEO” haircut and a 12-year old kid. It took her roughly five seconds to see the bus was packed.
At this point, she started looking for a free seat, spotted me, and started marching to me. When I saw her, I knew I was screwed. She then stood next to me and decided to talk to me. This is the conversation that followed: Her Hey, could you let my kid sit down? Me: You mean me? Her: Who else? Me: Oh, I’m sorry, but I’m on my way from the hospital and—
Her: (cutting me off) So are we (nonsense, the stop was a few kilometers away from the hospital), my boy just broke his leg and we’re coming straight from the ER. Let it be noted, her kid was standing next to her, without any support, clearly embarrassed. Me: He’s standing next to you, completely fine Her: Look here, my kid DESERVES to sit down
Me: Look madam, I’m sorry, but I just got back from a chemo session in the hospital and I need to sit down and rest (I then moved my wig a bit to let her see my bald head). At this point, she then straight up started yelling in my face Her: STOP MAKING EXCUSES AND GET OFF THE SEAT YOU PIECE OF GARBAGE. At this point, I was baffled. I didn’t know what to say. The kid was trying to make his mother stop and we had the attention of the whole bus. But she was nowhere near done.
She then grabbed me and tried to yank me from my seat. I held on tight and thankfully didn’t fall off. Now, enter my savior. The middle-aged man nearby stood up and started defending me. Him: WILL YOU SHUT UP YOU DUMB COW?!? Her: WHO DO YOU THINK YOU’RE TALKING TO?!? Him: (with ice-cold voice) Stop assaulting other passengers or I will be forced to step in. Also, every dumb moron could see that the dude has cancer.
Her: NO, HE’S JUST A GANGSTER. Him: He’s got NO EYEBROWS, YOU MORON. Seems like that REALLY offended her, because she spun around on the spot and threw a falcon punch in the guy’s face. I was shocked and in disbelief. The whole bus was flabbergasted, and the kid probably wished he’d never been born. The man then said something unbelievable and a golden karmic moment followed.
Him: Ok, that does it. Harassing passengers on the bus, physical assault against a passenger, and now assaulting an officer. You’re in deep trouble lady. She then pulled out a badge and told her to stay where she was. Then he pulled out his phone, called someone, and told her she was being detained. I couldn’t believe it, he was a bloody boy in blue.
At this point, she was as white as a wall. The bus had just come to a stop, so she decided she’d make a run for it, but other passengers blocked her way. She then also got charged with resisting thanks to this. Three stops later, a patrol car was waiting for her. The kid told me he was sorry for his mother’s behavior and I felt really sorry for him.
He wasn’t a bad child, but his mother was a demon. The officer then talked to me and asked me if I wanted to press charges, to which I gladly said yes. He took a statement and thankfully was kind enough to let me solve everything on the phone, so I didn’t have to come to the station for questioning. In the end, she got some time behind bars, I think it was a few months and some community service.
I, in return, got a good story to tell and the sweet taste of instant karma. Right now, I’m riding the same bus home, as I just got back home from the hospital after a check-up, which reminded me of this. I should also note that the surgery went well, and I was declared cancer-free in November. My hair is slowly returning. Also, I don’t need to wear a wig anymore.
8. Sit Down, Lady
I saw this today and I can’t stop laughing. I was traveling in my city’s metro. It wasn’t too crowded at that time, but all the seats were occupied. Still, you could freely stand without being humped by a stranger. There was this kid sitting in the reserved seats—the ones for people with handicaps, pregnant women, and old people, definitely not for moms of two-year-olds.
He was probably 14 or 15 years old. He is the hero of the story here. At one, our entitled mother comes in. She has this cute little child who was trying to keep up with his mom’s pace. She instantly sees our hero sitting at the reserved seat and just stares at him. I guess this was her way to make people automatically give away their seats or something.
The kid didn’t move, though. This probably irked her a lot I guess, because she moved towards the kid with heavy steps. She comes near him, stops, and again does the stare. The kid doesn’t budge. Then she starts screaming. If she didn’t have the whole compartment’s attention earlier, she had it now. She starts berating the kid for sitting in a reserved seat and not giving it to someone more deserving like a mother.
I don’t know what her logic was. The seats aren’t reserved for them anyways. She just keeps shouting and screaming and tries to get others’ opinion on it, and for a while, people were on her side. Then the kid, out of nowhere, rolls the right side of his jeans up, detaches his artificial leg, and keeps it in front of her. The look on her face was priceless.
She just backed away silently and got off on the next stop. I don’t think that it was her stop.
9. Make Yourself At Home
I have two young adult children living at home, ages 18 and 19. They both work and go to college. I trust my kids, and I trust their decision-making skills. When they graduated high school and turned 18, new rules went into place. No curfew, just call me and let me know if you are going to be out all night so I don’t worry. You can call me at any time for a pick up, no questions asked, just don’t be stupid and drink and drive.
Yes, your significant others can sleep over or come over for the weekend, just let me know what’s going on. Pay a small rent during the summer when you are working full time and pay your part of the car insurance. You have your chores, I have mine. We all work together. I tell them if they aren’t being jerks and they listen, in turn, I listen to them.
There is very little fighting or arguing in my house. This is their time to spread their wings and learn how to be a responsible adult and have me as a safety net. Lately, one of my kid’s boyfriends has been spending a lot of time over at my house. He is here pretty much all the time. Two days ago, I got a phone call from a number I didn’t recognize and when I answered it was my daughter’s boyfriend’s mother. And she…was a real piece of work.
Me: Hello? Her: You need to tell my kid he isn’t allowed over to your house anymore!!! Me: Who is this? Her: This is “Tommy’s” Mother!!!!! Me: (I already know where this is going) OH! Tommy’s mom! I have to say you have raised a great kid! He is always polite and respectful. In fact… Her: LOOK! I don’t care WHAT you think about my kid!! He is never at home!! He isn’t spending any time with meeee!
Me: Okay? There isn’t much I can do about that… Her: Yes there is! Tell him he can’t come over to your house anymore!!! I WaNt HiM hOMe!!! AND YOU!!!! YOU SET A BAD EXAMPLE FOR MY SON!!! YOUR DAUGHTER HAS NO CURFEW AND I AM SICK AND TIRED OF HEARING HOW nIcE IT IS AT YOUR HOUSE! I miiisssssss him and want him home!!! Me, speaking very low and basically growling into the phone: Are you done yelling at me?
Her:……… ( I think I stunned her into silence) Me: I will take that as a yes. Do you trust the way you raised your son? Her: What??? Me: It’s a simple question. Do you trust the way you raised your son??? Her: OF COURSE I DO!!! What does that have to do with anything??? Me: Do you trust him to make good decisions? Her: YES!!! Yes of course. (She is starting to calm down now)
Me: Mother to mother, I know things are not okay at your house right now (her husband drinks a lot). I am trying to give your child a safe place when things are not okay at your house. (She starts to cut me off at this point but I won’t let her) It’s not your fault. Her: ……. Me: He throws your son out for days at a time sometimes, doesn’t he?
Her: Yes (I can hear her choking back the tears) Me: Do you need someone to talk to? Would you want to go out to lunch? That way you can feel safer knowing whose house your son is at and that he is safe? Her: That would be ok. We were on the phone for about an hour after that. What started out as an entitled mother was just a scared woman feeling very, very alone.
Sorry there wasn’t any righteous retribution, but I think it turned out ok. I am going to try and get 19-year-old Tommy’s curfew changed from 10 pm to midnight and maybe he can stay over for a weekend.
10. The Good Father
I used to work in a small chain of bookstores/stationery shops. We’d sell books, pens, paper, and so on. It was a quirky little store, straight out of a romantic love novella. This happened a few years ago and I’m reconstructing it from my memory. This entitled mother walks into the store with her little girl. It’s rather early in the morning.
The mom looks around and asks me if I could watch her child. Me: “Oh no, I’m terrible with children, sorry.” She tells me that it’s not for that long and I shouldn’t be such a fuss about it. I still politely refuse. It’s not my job to watch children, and I’m afraid to do something wrong. What happens? She leaves the store, and who do I find hidden in the corner?
The little girl who seems to be rather shy and fearful. This happened back in a time before everyone had smartphones. The kid obviously didn’t have a mobile on her, and I suspected the mother also wouldn’t. Wasn’t too surprised that the girl didn’t know the number of their landline, either. I sigh. What are you gonna do? If something happens to that kid while being in the store and you being the only present employee, you’re gonna have a bad time.
I introduced myself, and asked her name. She told me it in full. Now this rang a bell. I had a good customer with the same surname. It turns out that it’s her dad. I didn’t get paid enough to babysit. In fact, I didn’t even get paid enough to do my normal work. I call her dad at his workplace since we saved that number in our system. The call went along those lines:
Me: “Hi, it’s bookstore XY.” Him: “Oh hi, how’s it going? I don’t remember having any open orders.” Me: “Yeah, erm, look, listen, do you have a daughter?” Him, confused: “Yes why do you ask?” When he finds out the story, he quickly apologizes for the woman’s behavior and tells me he’s gonna pick the kid up as soon as possible.
While waiting for him, I picked up one of our sale books, which was a picture book from Disney. The girl tries to read a little, I read a little. The dad arrives, and the girl runs to him and hugs him, crying that mommy was mean to her. The dad soothes her and thanks me for babysitting her. He gives me a bottle of red and buys something small from the store.
Him: “If the mom shows up again, could you not tell her that I picked up our daughter?” Me: “What. Why?” Him: “If you don’t feel like it you don’t need to. It’s rather complicated and you already did so much for us.” He leaves. In the evening, the mother shows up. Just to point out—she dropped the girl at about 09:00.
It was 5:45. A whole freaking day. Her: “Where’s my daughter?” This is where I get my revenge. Me: “Your WHAT?” Her: “My daughter. I dropped her in this store and you were here.” Me: “YOUR WHAT?” Now she was on the edge. Thus I did what I thought was the smartest thing to do. Me: “A guy came into the store and picked her up. He seemed nice. Gave me some gifts for her.”
At this point I expected her to attack me, but she just left the store. A few weeks pass and the dad and girl come to the store, both happy to see me. The dad asks me if I’ve got a few minutes. An excuse not to work? Obviously I took the time for…customer service. I gave the girl the same book we read the last time and had a talk with him.
The whole story was a doozy. The mom and dad were in the middle of a divorce when she dropped the girl at our store. One of the reasons he wanted a divorce was because the mom “wasn’t nice” to the girl. Now, in my country as a man it’s rather hard to get custody for your child. No matter what. So the mom dropping the girl in our store was a gift of the heavens.
The dad took the daughter to his sister’s overnight, and the mom pretended that she was sleeping at one of her friend’s. The dad wanted to call them just to ensure that she is fine. When he did and the friend didn’t know where the girl was (obviously), the dad faked panic and involved the authorities. Meanwhile, the mom starts insisting that the friend must have kidnapped the girl.
The dad had proof of it being otherwise since he already called the authorities when he dropped his daughter at his sister’s house. In court, the dad apparently said something like, “She can have all she wants, even my wine collection. I just want to be with my daughter.” The daughter ended up with him, with the mother paying alimony.
When the mother dropped the daughter off at my store, she was shy, seemed small, and now she has such a big smile on her face and is curious about everything. She seemed like a bird taking off to fly towards the sun. I absolutely hated my job, but situations like these make me a little bit nostalgic.
11. Queen Of The Karens
Long ago, I worked for one of those bulk warehouse club stores. My trade was simple: I was a wrangler of the silver buffalo, and dutifully retrieve the ol’ shopping carts I did. The job in and of itself wasn’t the worst I’d ever had; I got plenty of exercise, got to be outside, and generally didn’t have to interact with the “members” (calling them customers was taboo) for the most part.
For the most part. The thing about this job is that the company I worked for had a reputation for being cheap. Thusly, more often than not, I was on my own out in the parking lot. “Big whoop,” you might say. “You gathered carts? You should see how hard MY job is!” Yeah, well… Shut up. This is my story, jerk-o. I digress.
The reason that being alone sucked is that this store didn’t have just one kind of cart. Heck, they didn’t even just have TWO kinds of carts. You had your classic garden variety cart, the kiddie-cart with the plastic facade to make it resemble a car, the electric scooters (which weren’t supposed to leave the store, but did so with alarming frequency), and finally, the bulky, hard-to-control flatbeds.
On top of that, whenever someone needed help loading their haul into their minivans, I was the guy they called. You know, because the greeters, cashiers, and managers were all busy. As you might expect, one man cannot be in multiple places at once, and as a result, on some of our busier days, it became incredibly difficult to keep enough carts in the vestibule. Our story begins on one of these days…
So there I was, chugging along like a good worker drone, struggling to keep up with the sheer volume of people coming in to buy cheap bulk goods. Sure enough, I get a call on the radio: Manager – “[sktchh] We need you to help some members load their purchases. [sktchh]” Me – “Uh, I’d love to, but I’m barely able to keep up out here as is…”
Manager – “[sktchh] Just do it. You can afford to stop gathering carts for two minutes. [sktchh]” *Ron Howard voice* – “He couldn’t.” However, I didn’t want to push my luck, so I complied. After spending 20 minutes loading people’s purchases because when one person needs it, suddenly they ALL need it, I came back to find my vestibule a near-ghost town, save for a single line of carts that was half-gone, and…the Karen.
I won’t waste time describing this specimen. She was the prototype. You know what she looked like. There she stood, menacing, tapping her foot with such speed that it could make any metal drummer green with envy. You could collect the contempt in her gaze in a jar. Karen – “Where are the big flat ones?” I blanked for a moment. Me – “I’m sorry?”
Karen – “Ugh. Mexicans…” For the record, I’m very much white. Karen – “WHERE. ARE. THE. FLAT ONES.” Me – “Oh, you mean the flatbeds. I’m sorry, I was just helping some other members load their merchandise and haven’t had a chance to—” Karen – “OH MY GOD, I don’t care about your excuses, you have ONE JOB, and a TRAINED. MONKEY. Could do it!”
I just want this lady out of my face, so I don’t fight it. Me – “Sorry ma’am. I’ll grab one from the parking lot for you…” Karen – “You’d better…” So I go back out to the lot and find a whole line of flatbeds sticking out of a corral blocking several parking spaces. I push them all into the vestibule where she waits, huffing about how I’m wasting her valuable time.
I separate one from the rest and bring it to her. Me – “I’m terribly sorry about the wait, ma’am.” She leers at me with utter malice. Karen – “Hmmph. Unbelievable…” And with that, she dismisses herself into the store, where she will be someone else’s problem. I shake my head and return to doing what I’m paid to do. I wish I’d never seen her again…but I did.
About 15 minutes later, I’m returning a line of carts when I see her pushing her flatbed to her Miata and jawing about “stupid people” (most certainly referring to me) on her cell phone. You know what she had bought? What she had insisted on having a flatbed for? A cake. This wasn’t even like, a big cake. It was one of those little circular numbers.
Anyways, I witness as she continues to yammer on about how I nearly ruined—RUINED I TELL YOU—her precious baby’s birthday party, when the most glorious thing happened. Still clutching her phone with those jai-alai scoop claws of hers, she attempts to pick up the cake with one hand, the plastic topper pops off, and she spills the cake all over her undoubtedly expensive designer outfit.
Seething with white-hot rage, she locks eyes with me. Karen – “YOU! GET ME ANOTHER CAKE! NOW!” Me – “Terribly sorry ma’am. I’ve got one job, and these carts won’t gather themselves.” I walked away, grin plastered on my face as her shrieks faded into the distance behind me. I’ve had my share of nasty customer interactions before, but this one…Really took the cake.
12. A Light At The End Of The Tunnel
I am a 28-year-old woman who just recently went fully blind. When I was a teenager, I volunteered with my local youth group to help rebuild Mississippi after hurricane Katrina, and while down there I picked up a fungal parasite called Histoplasmosis that, over a decade, migrated to my eyes and slowly caused blindness. I’ve been totally blind for about a year now, so I’m pretty new to it.
When I first went blind, I barely left the house and was afraid to go in public. I felt like everyone was staring at me and in all honesty, I barely knew what I was doing. The transition had been difficult and I didn’t have any support group to teach me. One day my husband asks if I can take an Uber down to the bank and deposit a rent check and I reluctantly agree.
While out, he messages again and reminds me that we’re out of a few crucial groceries. There was a Wal-Mart grocery literally across the street from the bank, so I figure everything in life is an experience and I’ll have to learn how to shop alone eventually, so why not. Everything was fine at first and I was only grabbing a few things so I didn’t need a cart.
I was using my cane and what little echolocation skills I had at the time to get around, but was still bumping into things as we blind tend to do sometimes. My cane suddenly hit something a bit softer and I figure maybe I had whacked someone’s leg and apologize. Cue Entitled Kid (EK) and Entitled Mother (EM). Me: Shoot, I’m sorry—
EM: Hey! You just hit my son!! Me: I’m so sorry, ma’am, I didn’t see him there. EM begins yelling: HOW COULD YOU NOT SEE HIM, HE’S CLEARLY RIGHT HERE!! Now, again, I’m fully blind, but I don’t wear sunglasses. Mostly because I can’t afford a good UV blocking pair, but also I’m not ever looking for pity or to ”play the part” of a generic blind person.
I just want to be treated like a normal person, but I do understand her confusion as blindness is a spectrum, so I try to calmly explain. Me: Ma’am, I’m blind, I can’t see anything, let alone your son. That’s why I have to use the cane, so I can get around without— She cuts me off: If you’re blind, why aren’t you wearing big sunglasses?
As a blind person, I get a lot of stupid questions, but I understand a lot of them are just people who don’t know better, so I try to happily answer as many as I can. Me: Those are really expensive (around $200 for a good pair), and I really don’t need any inside. Here is where my blood starts to boil. EM: You’re not blind, you’re faking it!
I can’t think of any reason someone would want to pretend to be blind, and nothing makes me angrier more than when someone calls me a liar when I’m not. Just as I’m about to respond, I feel a tug and before I blink, I realize this little demon spawn has snatched my $100 cane from my hands. For those of you who don’t understand, that’s like if you’re shopping and suddenly the power goes out and you can’t see a single light.
Without my cane, I can barely move at all without crashing into anything. My voice gets shaky as I begin to panic: Please give that back! I REALLY DO NEED IT!! EM: No you don’t, you liar. My son deserves to play with this more than you! I hear her shuffle away and my expensive cane cracking into metal displays and such as they leave.
I start crying and waving my arms in front of me to grab onto something, anything, and end up crashing and falling into a center aisle display, making a loud scene. I somewhat curl into a ball and cry. I’m alone in public, in the dark, and I had no idea what to do. Suddenly I feel a hand on my shoulder and a man’s voice. We’ll call him AG for awesome guy.
He asks if I’m okay and to stay right here. I do, but begin to at least sit up and listen. This man must have been tall and built like a tank because his footsteps sounded like a giant and I felt a suction of wind when he took off. Maybe about 30 or 40 feet away, I hear this loud bellowing like an angry lion and a loud crash, then before I know it the man is back and helping me to my feet.
He takes my hand and puts my cane into my palm and helps me pick up the items I dropped when I fell into the display. Me wiping tears from my cheeks: Thank you, thank you so much, I didn’t know how to handle that. AG: Don’t worry about it, some people are just monsters. This guy restored my faith in humanity and even helped me finish shopping and helped me out of the store.
As we’re leaving, I can hear the familiar screeching of EM, something about AG grabbing the cane and pulling hard, flinging her little devil child into a shopping cart. I don’t know if she was exaggerating or not but it would explain the crash I heard. It’s easy to feel alone in a world without sight, but even through the sheer terror of being stripped of my cane, at least I know now that there are people willing to stand up for me when I need it.
13. A Beautiful Thing
So, back in high school one of my closest friends got pregnant and gave birth to the sweetest baby boy. She stopped going to school for a while to take care of her kid, but still did online school so she could graduate with her class. One thing we would do is go to one of the local food places near the high school on Fridays. On this particular day, we decided to go to this nice Chinese place that I frequent regularly.
The little old Asian lady knows me by name. This Chinese place has a sticker on the front door that says something like “Breastfeeding will always be allowed,” which is great since that’s what my friend is more comfortable doing for her baby. After we ordered our food, we hung out in this little waiting area when the baby gets all fussy.
She takes out the little cover and covers her baby and her chest as she starts to feed him. We keep talking until this woman and her son, who had to be around 10, comes in. I recognize the kid as one of the kids I looked after when I use to volunteer at a youth center. He comes up to me and starts talking to me, and then asks my friend what she’s doing with the baby.
Before my friend could answer, the boy’s mother cuts in. “A disgusting thing is what she’s doing. Don’t you know better than to do that in public? And why are you even doing that if you’re only a kid?” My friend has an attitude sometimes, so I try to jump in before she would start to throw things. “It’s not disgusting, and the owner, Mrs. L is fine with it. She has a sticker on the door.”
Mrs. L was just ogling the baby a second ago. She smiles at us and continues to write some stuff down. The mother wasn’t happy about this and continues with her rant. “I’m sorry but I’m just not okay with a baby breastfeeding another baby. Can you please just stop,” she says in frustration. Mrs. L finally cuts in and in her broken English, she says, “Nursing baby is a beautiful thing. You have problem, you leave.”
She then taps the order on the window that leads to the kitchen and apologizes to my friend for the woman’s nasty behavior. She then looks at the boy who is still next to me and says jokingly, “Your mother, she dummy right?” This makes the boy laugh and the mother just grumble in her seat, trying to stay as far from us as she could.
When my friend finished and we grabbed our food, Mrs. L threw in an extra order of egg rolls, since they were my friend’s favorite.
14. (Don’t) Just Keep Swimming
So let me tell y’all about how this mother tried to have me be her free babysitter/lifeguard. We just got one of those above ground pools you set up yourself that is 4 feet deep and 14 feet round. We spent the majority of two days prepping and filling it and letting it warm. Finally yesterday it was ready, and my daughter asked if she could invite a little girl she is semi-friendly with from down the street to come swim with her.
Since they are eight and they are tall enough to stand with heads above water, I said ok. Well, her little friend brought her toddler sister, who is probably on the younger side of two. definitely too small to stand with her head above the water. I tell the friend that her little sister can’t get in the water unless her mom is here to watch her, and send her home with the message. They both come back and she says, “Mom said she’s fine in her float and I can watch her.”
And I said “No it’s not fine, I don’t think an eight-year-old is responsible enough to watch a toddler in a pool, and I am not going to be the one watching her either. You need to tell your mom either she comes to watch your little sister or she is not getting in the pool.” They both go home and then BOTH COME BACK!! At this point I am livid.
I walk back to their house with them and pound on the door. No answer. I keep knocking, and then the garage door starts to open with this woman backing her car out!! I quickly went and stood at the end of the driveway with all the kids in tow, both of hers and both of mine. She gets out of her car all angry and asks me what my problem is?!
I tell her my problem is that I’m not her babysitter, and that I am definitely not going to be responsible for keeping her baby from drowning in MY swimming pool on MY property! Her reaction was chilling. She then proceeds to start baby-talking her own kids, saying, “I’m so sorry babies the mean lady isn’t going to let you swim, I’m so sorry princesses” and on and on. Of course, the toddler bursts into tears, and then the mother screams at me.
“Look what you’ve done!! You’ve made her cry and ruined her day! Hope you are proud of yourself!! She then snatches up the little sister, who is screaming, tosses her in the car, and screams at the friend to get in too. The friend is red in the face, and you can tell she is so embarrassed. She just mumbles sorry while climbing in the car. The mother then proceeds to peel out of her own driveway and we walk back home. Witch.
For what it’s worth, I was NOT planning on leaving the kids wholly unattended. I was right beside the pool doing yard work and planned on continuing once all the kids were in the pool. I just did not want to watch a small toddler in the pool, as she would require extreme supervision. Like sitting and staring directly at her kind of supervision.
15. Eat My Dust
I recently had an emergency appendectomy, and recovery has been slow. I had to take time off from my own athletics, but worse, from coaching in the kid’s sports program I’m involved with. The experience made me step back and realize I really built my whole identity around being active and healthy, so the hit my physical abilities took as a result of being sick and the healing process has made me feel lost.
I’ve been working to regain the joy I used to experience from exercise, without going “Oh, you used to be so much faster with that,” or “Your technique used to be so much stronger,” or “You don’t fit in anymore,” or whatever else and just enjoy myself regardless of the level I’m at. But ironically, the anxiety about not being able to do what I used to has made regaining those abilities difficult.
It made me self-conscious about exercising in public spaces, but I was starting to finally get over it as friends convinced me the source of the concerns was all in my head. There’s no way to get back to it other than training, so despite the anxiety, I started running again, as soon as the doctors approved it. I went to the local track and just did a few slow laps each morning, building up speed every few days.
I’ve only just been authorized to add some sprints and bodyweight strength training to the mix. Occasionally there were other people at the track, but I didn’t really notice because I run with headphones on and try to zone out in these lighter sessions. But little did I know, my friends were wrong. It was not all in my head. I was being watched, and more than that, I was being judged.
This was my absolute catastrophe-level worst nightmare at this stage of building back my strength and speed. On Friday, I was setting up for practice at the kid’s program and the head coach asked me into his office because a parent had a complaint. A parent I didn’t know too well, Karen, was there and he said she had specific complaints about me.
I was a bit nervous, as anyone is being called to meet with their boss over a complaint, but I figured it was a classic case of “My kid should start more,” or “I know my kid tried out as a midfielder but I want him/her to switch to defense,” that kind of “rules don’t apply to me” thing. But instead, I sit down in the office, and Karen is playing my boss a video of me running on the track.
That she filmed from afar; it’s surrounded by stadium-style risers. I was horrified, both because no one is ever totally used to seeing themselves on video, and because I was just embarrassed about how slow I was. But most importantly because why was a virtual stranger (I’d met her personally maybe four times, ever) filming me while I ran on my own time at a private facility?
She then went on to explain that her eight-year-old son, one of the players on my squad, was lapping me in the video. She was insisting the coaches need to hold themselves to higher athletic standards than the young players if they want to prepare them for college teams. (Again, her son is eight.) Apparently, her son would sometimes be running on the track while her older child was practicing on a nearby field.
I never noticed, the kid is still relatively new, and again, I don’t pay much attention to the other people on the track. My boss patiently but firmly explained to Karen that my physical abilities are not the parents’ concern, and all personnel are closely managed by the head coaches who understand each unique situation and what’s appropriate, and that her son wouldn’t be impacted.
But she didn’t stop there. Karen then went on to say my being out of shape was probably connected to why I’d been taking so much time off lately. Uh… technically yes, it is, because I was in the hospital. She was complaining that the personnel changeover isn’t good for the kids. My boss again reiterated that the head coaches hadn’t changed or taken any time off and that I was still one of the most skilled in the area I instruct, so this was not her concern.
She asked if there was someone else she could speak to, but he explained that he was the owner and founder of this program, so, no there was not. I knew my boss was intentionally avoiding saying what had happened to me or even alluding to a health issue, to protect my privacy, but I figured maybe being transparent with her would show her how ridiculous she was being—and keep her tuition dollars in our program.
But when I explained, she just turned to the boss and said, “Well maybe you should furlough her until she’s healed and bring on a healthy coach in the meantime, because my son needs someone out there who can keep up with him.” My boss respected what I was trying to do, but made clear we weren’t going further with that strategy to avoid setting a precedent of sharing coaches’ personal circumstances.
Telling her why people take time off or what their health status may be is not her concern because the program manages that and makes appropriate decisions. She kept kicking up a fuss, but the coach finally told her he had to get back out on the field, back to her son and everyone else’s kids. She started physically leaving but continued fussing about how she was not satisfied and would not be recommending us to other parents.
Pro tip—this is not the way to conduct yourself with the people who make recommendations to scouts concerning family culture/team interaction. The coach wasn’t preparing to leave, instead, he stopped her in her tracks to tell her if she was found to be surveilling or otherwise harassing any staff members again, she would be perma-banned from the program.
No games or practices, no team social events, no presence in our buildings, and no clemency. So, that was pretty satisfying. Her son is a good, average, kid and I’m glad the consequences were focused on booting her out rather than limiting his opportunities to have fun playing. So then we went out and had a great, happy, safe practice.
This was still a pretty upsetting event for me personally though, and I’ll never unsee that discouraging video of me running, but it was ultimately reassuring to know the other staff has my back. Leaving Karen in the dust is just another step on my road to recovery!
16. The Joys Of Motherhood
My boyfriend’s cousin has four children. Each of her kids is the personification of the word bratty. The cousin refuses to discipline them and constantly makes excuses for their behavior. She’s also very judgemental of our decision to not have children. She has often made some snide comments towards me, implying that I’m a selfish jerk who is depriving my boyfriend of the “joys of raising children.”
For these reasons and for her generally entitled behavior, my boyfriend had cut ties with her. However, when he and I visited his parental home three days ago for his parents’ anniversary celebration, we ran into her again. My boyfriend’s dad had urged him to use this occasion to mend bridges with the cousin. So we both tried to make nice and engaged in small talk with her. I’ve never regretted an action more.
During our conversation, my boyfriend mentioned that we were leaving for Melbourne for vacation in a few days. At this, the cousin’s eyes lit up. “Oh that sounds like so much fun,” she said, “My husband and I haven’t gone anywhere since our honeymoon.” She whined some more about how hard it is for them with four kids, if only they could afford such luxuries, etc.
I could tell where this was going almost immediately. My boyfriend probably felt sorry for her and, being the kind and generous soul that he is, he offered to buy them a weekend in a resort in Mt. Abu, a hill station in the Indian state of Rajasthan. Cousin (face scrunched up): “That’s nice, but why can’t you just take us to Melbourne with you?”
BF (getting a bit annoyed, but still patient): Well, we want to spend some time alone together. Plus we’ll be meeting some close friends there. Besides, Mt. Abu is a beautiful place. Your kids will love it. Cousin (in the annoying “Karen” tone): I still don’t see why you can’t take us to Australia. You’re being so selfish, going on this great trip and sticking your family with a cheap weekend getaway.
BF’s Mom: He’s making a very generous offer. Either take it or leave it. Cousin (wearing the expression that morons wear when they think they’ve had a bright idea): Oh I know! Why don’t my husband and I go to Mt. Abu and you can take our kids to Melbourne? Me: What??? Cousin: It’s a great idea. The kids can have fun in Melbourne with you two and my hubby and I can enjoy a peaceful weekend. This way, the kids can actually spend some time with their uncle. You never make time for them!
BF: I’m offering for the last time. It’s either the weekend in Mt. Abu or nothing at all. And why the heck would we ruin our vacation taking care of your kids? Cousin: How can you say that? My kids are so well-behaved. You’ll have so much fun spending time with them. Besides, my husband and I could really use some quiet time together. You two don’t have any responsibilities. You have no idea how hard it is to raise four kids. You can afford this trip. I don’t see why you won’t share with family……
BF: One more word and you’re losing my Mt. Abu offer. On hearing this, the cousin finally shut up. We all had dinner together and she was mercifully quiet. If only her kids had followed her example. You’d think this would be the end of it, but NO! We had seriously underestimated her dedication to her Karenness. This morning, the cousin showed up at my apartment with the kids in tow.
I was shocked to see her, of course, and asked if something was wrong. She smiled and said, “I’m just here to drop the kids off. You’re leaving tonight right?” After taking a second to recover, I asked, “Did you fall and hit your head on something? We told you we weren’t taking your kids with us. What part of that did you not understand?”
She then tried to convince me that my boyfriend had called her later on and had agreed to take her kids. I knew this was a lie and called it as such. The cousin became enraged and asked if I was going to break her kids’ hearts. I called my boyfriend, and after telling him what was going on I turned on the speaker. My boyfriend proceeded to chew her out brutally, telling her he would no longer pay for their weekend getaway and that this is exactly the kind of behavior that had made him cut ties with her.
She tried to get a word in but he wouldn’t let her. The cousin took her kids and stormed off. My boyfriend and I are having a laugh over this and are still wondering what made her think that this plan would ever work.
17. Living Your Best Life
I lived in Melbourne, Australia for about a year. While there, I met a gorgeous gay couple, Brian and Derek (names changed). They were both bisexual, and they lived in the same building as me on the floor directly above mine. I soon entered into an intimate relationship with both of them. We would have threesomes, and sometimes more.
Besides the awesome bedroom stuff, I also became really good friends with them and we’re still in touch. It was tons of fun for all involved. Among my neighbors was a middle-aged couple with two children. They lived right across the hallway from me and were quick to judge us after seeing Brian and Derek exiting my apartment early in the morning on more than one occasion.
The woman, Karen, asked me in the elevator what I was doing with “those two gays.” I politely told her it was none of her business. When she kept on pestering me, I told her “If you must know, I’m friends with benefits with them, now leave me alone.” I still remember the look of shock on her face. I don’t think she expected me to reply so brazenly.
When I told Brian and Derek about this, they shared their own experience in dealing with them. This couple had tried to talk to the property manager about “gays moving into a building with families and children.” They were told to screw off but any time either or both of these guys were in the elevator with them or ran into them in the parking lot, the husband (Let’s call him Todd) would stand between them and his kids while giving Brian and/or Derek angry looks.
They must’ve been trying to prevent their kids from catching “the gay.” HA. In the weeks that followed, the entitled couple continued to give me the stink eye any time they saw me. I just smiled back at them sweetly, which annoyed them even more. On one occasion, their teenage daughter said “good morning” to me and tried to make small talk, before her mother dragged her away by the arm while berating her for talking to “that woman.”
Interestingly, their kids seemed very well behaved and nice and I truly felt sorry for them. My next-door neighbors (another couple with kids with whom I got along very well) later told me that Karen had tried to get them to file a noise complaint against me. According to Karen’s logic, since I shared a wall with that family, they could probably hear all the “ungodly” noises coming from my apartment and they should complain in order to protect their children.
The nice couple told them they would do no such thing as I had never bothered them and they had never heard any such noises coming out of my apartment. One night, Brian, Derek, and I decided to have a foursome that would involve the three of us and Brian and Derek’s friend Dean. The next morning, Dean asked if he could come back to my place with me.
As it was a Sunday morning and Dean was hotter than Hades, I agreed. As he and I were walking down the hallway to my place, Karen was just getting out of hers. She saw Dean and I smiling and talking with his arm around my waist. She approached me, asking angrily if I was “selling my body.” I told her she was insane and asked her to kindly screw off.
Later that day, I received a terrifying call from the property manager. She wanted to let me know that Karen and Todd had complained that I was “a prostitute” and that it was dangerous for their children to be in the same building as me. They told her in great detail about how I was bringing home different men. The property manager had gotten to know Brian and Derek quite well and had an inkling that I was “friends” with them.
So she contacted them and they told her all about Karen’s crazy behavior and accusations. They said that the man they had seen me with was a mutual friend. The property manager dissuaded the family from filing any sort of false complaint against me as it could cause a world of trouble for them. I thanked that kind lady and later had a good chuckle over it all with Brian and Derek.
The blatant harassment from Karen and Todd had stopped, but of course, the hateful looks continued. On one occasion, when we were in the elevator together, Karen made a pathetic attempt at shaming me by condescendingly asking if I was going to have any men over that night. What she didn’t realize is that shame about my promiscuity is something I’m entirely incapable of feeling.
I proceeded to tell her in great detail about all the acts I was going to engage in that evening. I mean, she’s the one who asked, right? After this fun little interaction, she and her husband avoided me completely. Good times.
18. The Family That Fights Together…
I just recently had a new family move into my neighborhood. The neighborhood is relatively small and close-knit; it’s the kind of neighborhood where everyone knows each other and we generally all get along well. We have big block parties and shoot off fireworks together on holidays. The new family is a middle-aged couple with their four children.
The kids’ ages range from around 14 to two, and this incident is just the first of several problems that I have had with this family since they moved in. So I was hanging out in the living room just relaxing and watching TV. From the couch, I have a clear view of my backyard. That’s when I noticed the retractable cover of my swimming pool begin to roll up.
I was home alone and no one else has access to my backyard. For insurance reasons, I have a lock on my back gate because of the pool. The gate always remains locked as we would be liable if anything was to happen in the yard. I rush outside and see what was going on. That’s when I see this Entitled Mother standing next to my pool with her four children.
They are dressed in their swimsuits and the mom is rolling up the cover of my pool. Me: Excuse me, what do you think you’re doing in my backyard? Her response shocked me to the core…EM: My kids have been well behaved today and they want to go for a swim. I saw that you have a pool so we are going for a dip. Me: This is not a public pool and you are on my private property. I need you to get out of my backyard now. I never told you that you are allowed on my property without permission.
EM: WHO THE HECK DO YOU THINK YOU ARE? IT IS A VERY HOT DAY AND MY KIDS WANT TO GO FOR A SWIM AND THEY WILL. Me: Not in my private pool they will not. How did you even get in my yard anyway? The gate is locked. EM: SCREW OFF! IN MY OLD NEIGHBORHOOD WE DID THIS ALL THE TIME. MY KIDS ARE GOING FOR A SWIM NOW AND YOU WILL NOT EVEN KNOW WE ARE HERE. YOU ARE JUST BEING SELFISH AND I WILL NOT ALLOW MY BABIES TO SUFFER BECAUSE OF YOUR BAD MOOD.
Me (Now angry): I will not ask again. You either get off my property now or I will call the authorities. You are not using my pool and that is final. EM (finally gets the cover off): Okay kids jump on in. Don’t listen to this stupid witch. Kid: Yeah you stupid witch. We are going for a swim now and you can’t stop us. Me: THAT’S IT! I AM CALLING THE AUTHORITIES.
EM now sees that I am serious and tries to the “reason” with me. EM: You would really not allow four kids to go for a swim on a hot day. What kind of heartless person are you? Just let us go swimming for an hour and we will leave. Don’t you want to be a good neighbor to us? Me: No I do not. You just broke into my backyard without permission? Please get off my property now.
She starts to mumble something to her kids and then she grabs her two youngest and starts to walk out of my yard. I then turn around and see her two oldest boys still standing by the pool. I start to walk over to tell them to go with their mother, and that’s when I see what they are doing. Her two oldest spawns are PEEING into my pool.
Kid: MAYBE THAT WILL TEACH YOU TO BE A BETTER NEIGHBOR, YOU STUPID WITCH. Me (grabs the arms of the two oldest and pushes them out of the gate): GET OFF MY PROPERTY YOU DISGUSTING LITTLE BRATS. EM: DON’T YOU DARE LAY A HAND ON MY BABIES OR I WILL CALL 9-1-1 ON YOU. WHO DO YOU THINK THEY WILL BELIEVE? A GOOD MOMMY OR A PATHETIC LITTLE WITCH LIKE YOU? YOU JUST GOT WHAT YOU DESERVE. ENJOY SWIMMING IN YOUR PEE POOL.
They then all walk off laughing as they went back to their house. I was in complete shock and I didn’t know what to do. I now wish I called the authorities after this first incident, but I sadly did not and things have since escalated with this family. Remember how I said that I had a lock on the gate? I later found it broken on the ground. I have no idea what they used to smash it, but they were successful. I have since purchased a much more heavy-duty lock.
19. Adventures In Babysitting
Years ago, this new neighbor of mine kept trying for the better part of a summer to use me as a free babysitter. It started when her kid, who was really a cute, well-behaved kid about seven years old, showed up at my door at 7:15 in the morning. We were all just waking up and getting around so I told him that my boys weren’t ready to play yet and to come back in a few hours.
That is when the kid told me his mom had gone to work. This seemed a bit odd to me so I brought him in and tried to call his mom. Sure enough, she was gone. So I brought him in and fed him breakfast. He stayed with us the rest of the day and he got along well with my two boys who were five and 10. I had only talked to his mom about two times, so I had no idea why she would think this was a good idea.
When his mom came home, I walked him over so I could talk to her. I told her not to do that again, though I did say that I would be willing to watch him on occasion if asked first, but not every day. Her response was: “Well, what else do you have to do all day?” This kind of took me by surprise. I tried to tell her that I work at home on commissions.
She rolled her eyes and told me that being an artist isn’t a “real job,” and besides I was married so I didn’t need to work. I should have pointed out to her that she was married and working, but I felt myself getting angry and I didn’t want to argue with her. “Just don’t do that again.” I said to her. “You have teenage kids home for the summer, have them babysit.”
She frowned at me and said, “They work.” I said, “So do I!” Then I went home. The next morning at 7:15 the kid sheepishly shows up again. Once again I bring him in and feed him breakfast and later lunch. Once again I took him to his home and once again told his mother to please not do that again. She actually tried to tell me that it was my neighborly duty to watch him and I told her that if she sent him tomorrow I wouldn’t be there because of a doctor’s appointment. Her reply blew my mind.
She said that as a babysitter I should have given her several day’s notice about this. I angrily told her I was NOT a babysitter and then went home. The next morning I made my 7 am appointment. I did some grocery shopping afterward and it was about 10 am when I got home. The poor kid was waiting for me on my porch. He had been there for nearly three hours and the little guy was scared and hungry.
That night when I took the kid home, I was angry. I told her how the kid was scared and alone. She actually said that she had told me I hadn’t given her enough time to find anyone else and that his being alone was my fault. I pointed at her and said: “I am NOT a babysitter! Don’t send him over again!” That night, this woman had her adult nephew call me to scream at me for not being home when his poor aunt dropped her son off.
How dare I leave a small child alone like that? I told the nephew that his aunt KNEW I wasn’t home so it was HER that left a child all alone. I said that I had repeatedly asked his aunt NOT to send the kid over anymore and I was NOT a babysitter. This nephew freaked out at me when I said that. I hung up on him while he was still screaming at me.
This worked for two wonderful, quiet days. Then right back to it. I tried everything, but this woman insisted that it was my neighborly duty to babysit and would tell me as much. Finally, I decided that to solve this problem I would just get a job outside of my home, and that way she would have to stop. (I was too much of a pacifist back then. I no longer am). I landed an interview for a position at the local library and I was ecstatic.
I told the woman to keep her son home because I had arranged for my kids to stay with their grandmother while I went to this interview. The next morning, I drove to my mother-in-law’s house and took my kids inside. When I went to leave, I found this woman’s kid waiting for me in my car! She had actually followed me there and put her son in my unlocked car and then zoomed off while I was dropping off my boys.
My mother-in-law wasn’t the most flexible person in the world and she adamantly refused to watch an extra kid. I had to cancel my interview. I was livid. I toyed with several ideas at this moment. I could take the kid to her job and leave him with her…or I could call CPS. I really wasn’t sure how stable this woman’s job was and I didn’t want her to get fired, and when I went to go call the CPS I chickened out because it really wouldn’t be fair to the little boy.
Besides, I had heard really scary stories about CPS. In the end, I just waited for her to come home. I left the boy at my house with my husband (I planned on doing a lot of cussing) and I stomped over to her house and met her before she even got out of her car. I shouted at her. I told her she was dense, stupid, moronic, and crazy. I told her that she had lost me my job interview and if she sent her kid over to be watched again I was going to call CPS.
I told her that she was violating my space and if it took going to court to get her to knock it off, then so be it. She then put her hand on her hip and in her most snotty tone she said: “Well if you didn’t want to sit with him, all you had to do was tell me.” I really do not know how I kept from punching her right then and there, this comment was so asinine.
I turned on my heels to start stomping home when I saw her husband pulling up. Now, this was the first time I had ever met her husband. He worked at a job that only allowed him to be home on weekends. (I can’t blame him, I wouldn’t want to be around her either), but when she saw him she turned tail and RAN into her house. He saw that I was upset and asked me what had happened.
I told him. Told him all of it, especially the incident at my mother-in-law’s. The poor man was shocked. He had been told that I was being paid and he had been giving her money to pay me! He had no idea all this had been going on and he was very, very apologetic over the whole thing. In fact, he apologized again to my husband when he came over to pick up his little boy.
Finally, FINALLY, she stopped sending her kid over! Later I heard from others that she was badmouthing me and warning folks about what a horrid babysitter I was, but I took that as a favor. I didn’t want to babysit any kids other than my own and I still hate doing so. I don’t hate the kids, I love kids. It’s dealing with the parents that I don’t like.
The kid came over only once in a while after that to play with my kids, after he called first to get permission, exactly the way it should be done. I’m sure his dad had something to do with that because the kid only came over on weekends. This is one of a few stories I have involving this crazy lady. Her only entertainment in life seems to be seeing how bizarre she can act in this neighborhood.
I’m luckier than my other neighbors in the fact that she leaves me alone now, and I’m very happy with that.
20. A Wild Ride
When I was 16, I worked at the amusement park in my city. It wasn’t a big one, but it wasn’t small either. Most of our rides were aimed towards elementary school-aged children, though we had a few for the older kids as well. Anyways, I was a rides operator, and that day, I was assigned to a ride designed for older kids. We had to measure the kids, and they couldn’t go on if they were under the height requirements no matter what, even if they had a parent with them.
It was a ride that only had a bar that went across your stomach, so someone too small could easily fall off. Entitled Mother and her entitled brat are in line, and I can already tell the kid is gonna be too short to ride without even having to measure him. He’s pretty far back, so I know it’s gonna be one or two runs before he makes it on.
So after I’m done loading, I tell the mom that her kid is too short for the ride and that they should go try the smaller version of it on the other side of the park. She looks at me with the dirtiest stare ever and just says: “We’re gonna wait here.” Now, I have to run my ride because I need to meet certain times, so I don’t argue. Time goes by and she’s finally at the start of the line.
I measure her kid, and of course he’s like 6 inches shorter than the height requirements. Me: I’m sorry ma’am, but your child is too short to ride this ride. I would recommend going over to the smaller version near the entrance of the park, though. He: No, it’s fine, I’m with him. I’ll hold him. She tries to shove me out of the way, but I’m standing my ground.
Me: I’m really sorry ma’am, but we don’t allow people under the height limit to ride this ride. The safeties we have on it just won’t hold someone too small, and your kid could fall off. She then asks to speak to my manager. I get asked that quite a lot by entitled parents, so I give them a call and tell her to wait on the side while I load my ride.
She gets very offended, saying that she shouldn’t have to wait longer for her kid to ride this ride because I couldn’t do my job, and at this point I just kind of ignore her and move on. Ride runs, my team lead gets there and talks with her. He tells her that he’s really sorry but that I’m right, her child can’t ride this ride. Now at this point, the brat is throwing a tantrum.
I mean, he’s rolling on the concrete like a piece of bacon in a frying pan. I’m trying my hardest not to laugh at this point. Anyways, my lead apologizes, offers her a “skip the line” ticket for the ride he’s allowed to go on at the entrance, and leaves. The mom is trying to calm down the kid and starts talking to him. He gets up, all smiling and happy, and stands next to the gates, watching me.
Now I’m not thinking too much of this at this point, so I start loading my ride again, which has a significantly less busy line and I have a couple of empty seats on it. As I’m doing my security checks and getting ready to run it, the mom taps me on the shoulder and thanks me for my help, which I found extremely odd. I turn around to tell her that it’s really no problem, and she starts apologizing and telling me that she shouldn’t have acted the way she did and blah blah blah.
I’m completely stunned, not really sure how to react, but I tell her it’s no problem and to enjoy the rest of her day. I look back at my ride, and realize the brat isn’t standing next to the fence anymore. I’m starting to get weird vibes. I look around for him and he’s not anywhere to be seen. I look at the mom again, who has her phone out with her camera pointing at the ride, and that’s when I knew.
I take my keys out of the ride and start walking towards it. It’s kind of a “swing” type of thing so I couldn’t see the back from where I was standing, but I knew darn well the brat had snuck on. The mom starts panicking, asking me what I’m doing and why I’m not running the ride. I completely ignore her and walk to the back of the ride, and lo and behold, the kid is sitting there.
He almost pees himself when he sees me walking towards him. He didn’t have the bar properly locked AT ALL and would’ve flown right out as soon as I started the ride. Now I’m mad, and I mean mad. I mean, I could’ve gone behind bars for manslaughter right then and there. I just look at him and very sternly tell him to get off my ride.
He tells me he can’t and he needs help, which is fair. I don’t even know how he managed to get on in the first place, but I grab him and put him down, and he starts sprinting towards his mom, crying. As he’s running, he trips and falls down on his face. When he gets up, his nose is all bloody and his knees are skinned, which is when I knew I was completely and utterly screwed.
The mom starts screaming like a banshee at the sight. As I’m running towards the kid to make sure he’s okay and to help him up, she runs towards me, slaps me hard across the face, and starts yelling for security. I’m absolutely and completely stunned at this point. Some security guards must’ve heard her screaming at the top of her lungs because they come running.
The exchange goes something like this. Guard: What’s going on here? Mom: This girl attacked my son! She threw him off the ride into the pavement! Me: Excuse me??? Brat: It’s true!! She punched me too. Guard: Do you want us to call the authorities? Mom: Yes! You need to arrest her!! She’s mentally unstable. I’m just dumbfounded at this point.
My lead gets to the ride and asks what the heck is going on, and I tell him everything that happened in between sobs. There’s one thing the mom forgot to take into account, though. There were like 15 people on the ride who saw everything. So they tell the officers and the security guards and my lead and everyone else what happened.
The mom quickly realized her error, as she just started running with her kid in tow as soon as she saw people asking the other guests questions. They caught her pretty quickly, and I pressed assault charges against her. Needless to say, I handed in my resignation that same day.
21. Here’s What You’re Gonna Do…
My ex-father-in-law used to call us up all the time and tell us exactly how we were going to handle something. Whatever the thing was that needed to be handled, he would automatically start instructing us on what we should do. He had no regard whatsoever for what we thought of it. Not even as much as a question about it.
At the time when he first started doing this, I was engaged to my ex, a college graduate, and I had been largely living on my own for a while with the exception of summers with my parents between school years. As a result, I was not used to letting anyone have a say in my day-to-day decision-making, so I was a little taken aback by my father-in-law’s presumptuous antics.
So when he did this, I just smiled sweetly through the phone at him and then researched exactly how I wanted to handle something on the computers in the library of my grad school. This continued throughout the marriage and one of the reasons my ex finally had me adulting for him is that my ex-father-in-law would call and badger him about doing something and list out the steps.
My ex would come to me freaking out and telling me about all the things that his father had told him to do, adding a few random ones too, due to his paranoia. I would call up his father, find out what he actually said, and then tell him how I was going to handle it my own way. I always made sure to thank him sweetly for his concern while inwardly rolling my eyes so hard that they fell out and rolled across the kitchen. But it wasn’t that terrible—until…
15 years into the marriage, we’re stuck living with them after my ex lost his job and my ex’s car stopped working. My father-in-law comes to me one day and tells me to give him my financial information so that he can fill out the papers for the loan for a new one. At this point, I’m in my mid-30 and was already irritated to be living with my ex’s parents when I had lived on my own for so long, so his demand did not make me happy.
I mean, I had bought four cars on my own before and the paperwork was not difficult. I told him sweetly that *I* would be filling out the paperwork, not him, and if I needed any information from him, I would let him know. I might have come across a little bit forcefully to him, which was intentional on my part, because my ex-mother-in-law quickly came over and tried to chew me out for “yelling at him.”
Speaking to him forcefully apparently did something, though, because he let me deal with my own affairs from then on with no comment on his part. But seriously? Your kid is 40 years old. If he can’t fill out the papers for a car loan, you did something wrong with him. The only reason my ex’s sibling learned to adult was that they got married, and it was incredibly embarrassing for them to have their daddy doing all their financial stuff and poking into their lives on such a regular basis.
22. The End Of An Era
So my ex recently decided to randomly break up with me after six years of being together. He did so without even trying to make it work. He instead started dating a work colleague of his within a week. Then, yesterday, my ex came by to discuss some things with me. During this visit, he got super angry and aggressive towards me—but that was just the start of my nightmare.
He then called his mother, who is an absolute angel in my view, but unfortunately, it wasn’t long before she decided to pass the buck along and call my ridiculous excuse for an ex-father-in-law to get him involved. They both started heading over to intervene. My father-in-law arrived first and he started screaming at me because I wasn’t willing to just give up our joint house so that I could live in student housing instead?!
I replied that I am totally willing to move when I find something suitable, but that I was under no circumstances going to move into student housing just because it was easy and quick. I have a perfect house here, and my ex is basically ruining my life, so I am not interested in downgrading my entire lifestyle just for his short-term comfort and benefit.
My ex’s dad then got aggressive. He tried to act intimidating and started blocking the only exit in the room while cornering me. Then, my ex-mother-in-law arrived and told him to leave me alone and that she would talk to me in a peaceful and mature manner. We talked for about 30 minutes and we actually managed to clear up a lot of things.
She totally regretted calling her husband into the situation. My ex is now staying at my mother-in-law’s for the next week, which is a total blessing in my book right now as he had initially voiced a pretty strong refusal to do so. He also told a lot of lies about the situation, mostly in his own favor, as you can probably imagine.
But the ending of all of this is that I don’t ever want to see my ex-father-in-law again. I told my ex-husband and he agreed that I shouldn’t have to. And if he does show up, he’ll see my wrath—which I couldn’t show yesterday because I was fighting off a cold and a shoulder infection. I finally got rid of him. I sure hope my next in-laws won’t be insane. Cheers, everyone!
23. Grabbing Your Attention
My 24-year-old boyfriend and I have been together for seven years. I know his family quite well. I have never experienced this sort of inappropriate behavior from my father-in-law before, and I’m very shocked and unsure of what to do about it. So a month ago, I went on a weekend trip to a cottage with my boyfriend’s family.
My boyfriend has two older sisters with husbands and kids, as well as a younger brother, and of course, his parents, who had paid for the trip. On the second day, when we returned from a long walk, everyone was quite tired, so we chilled and had some snacks. My boyfriend and father-in-law were sitting on a couch together, and I sat in a chair.
At one point, I stood up and leaned over the table in front of their couch to grab some snacks, and I suddenly felt a smack on my butt. I thought to myself: “What the heck? My boyfriend knows that I don’t like him doing things like this in public.” In private it’s fine, but why on earth would he do that right in front of members of his own family?
Even though I was confused, I did not want to be dramatic in front of everyone, so I just turned around and semi-jokingly said: “You’re not allowed to do that.” He then just kept silent and pointed at his father, who sat there grinning. I was now very confused but still didn’t want to be dramatic. So, I tried keeping the joking tone while saying: “You surely aren’t allowed to do that either.” It was so uncomfortable—and then it got worse.
My father-in-law now almost braggingly said to my mother-in-law, who was also in the room but reading a book on her own: “I just smacked this girl’s butt and she thought it was her boyfriend!” My mother-in-law frowned and said: “Don’t smack her butt!” But my father-in-law just continued to grin and said: “Well, it had the effect that I wanted it to have.”
I found that sentence to be very weird and unpleasant. I didn’t know how to react to the situation because I wasn’t completely sure if this was some sort of family humor that I so far hadn’t been privy to, and I did not want to be the “prudish” outsider who ruined it. Not knowing what to do with myself, I sat down on an empty couch and found something to read.
Shortly after, my boyfriend went shopping with his mom, so I felt kind of abandoned. I tried to keep myself away from my father-in-law as much as I could until they came back. So I went into another room to prepare some entertainment for the children that my boyfriend and I had promised to make. When my boyfriend came home from the shopping, we took a walk.
During this walk, I told him how I felt about the situation with his father. My boyfriend told me that in the moment, he had been too shocked to react, as he had never seen his father do anything like that before. He added, though, that he was disgusted by the situation and wished that he had stood up for me. The incident was not mentioned for the rest of the weekend.
After a month, I am still disgusted by the fact that my father-in-law did that to me. It felt objectifying and just wrong. It turned a situation where I had previously felt very comfortable being completely myself around his family into one where I don’t even want to be around them at all. I’m very cautious whenever I walk by a sitting male person.
This is even true within my own family. I know that I have a big butt. It’s a family thing that we are all rather small around the waist but with large hips. And thus, I also get very self-conscious about my body type, and the last thing I want is for random people to start grabbing my butt without my consent. This is my first and only serious relationship that I’ve ever had. I really don’t want it to get ruined by a completely uncalled-for incident like this.
24. Baby, You’re A Firework
About a month ago, my father-in-law got upset at us for not spending the night watching his daughter and take her to school in the morning, because I had a final exam at 7:00 in the morning the next day. He then proceeded to take money out of my boyfriend’s bank account, just to be a jerk, and then asserted that my boyfriend should have made me take an Uber or take the bus to the exam rather than drive me, as we had previously agreed to.
My father-in-law makes a point of saying that me getting to my final exam on time was not his priority. Since then, I’ve made it a point not to go over to his house over the holidays. He didn’t have his daughter at his house until a few days ago, but at some point, while my boyfriend and I were out, his dad texted him and said he had another Christmas gift for him.
We decided to swing by and pick it up. While we were there, my father-in-law asked if my boyfriend wanted to go to the gym with him. Of course, my father-in-law asks if I’m willing to watch the kiddo while they go, saying they’ll be back in about 90 minutes. I’d already talked at length to my boyfriend about how I felt about being roped into babysitting and then left indefinitely at the house while my father-in-law takes advantage of the situation.
My boyfriend confirms that they’re just going to have a quick workout and then come right back, so I agree. Additionally, my boyfriend’s younger brother was home from college as well, and also in the house, so ostensibly there was someone else there to take over when my boyfriend got back. Well, it turns out I was totally wrong.
His younger brother goes and grabs some Subway sandwiches for us, but then proceeds to head off to the computer room, leaving me alone with the little one. I don’t mind initially, until I overhear him on the phone with my father-in-law, telling him that he has dinner plans with his girlfriend. I’m immediately suspicious. Sure enough, within a couple of minutes, the brother comes in and asks if it would be okay if I watch the little one while he and my father-in-law go grocery shopping?
He knew straight up that I was not okay with it, but in my head, I knew that I was going to use this to drive my grievances home later on, so I said yes. My boyfriend could hear the sheer disdain in my voice and tried to talk to me about it, but at that point, the little one was hovering around and I was not trying to argue about it in front of her.
So I brush him off and tell him to just hurry up. Little brother also takes the chance to go over to his girlfriend’s house. Fast forward. It’s 10:00 PM. My father-in-law and boyfriend get back. As we’re leaving, the little one jumps into my arms and pleads with me not to go. The younger brother also tells my father-in-law that he did nothing while they were gone, and that I was handling the little one the entire time. I see my father-in-law make a face out of the corner of my eye.
He’s clearly very pleased that his daughter and I get along, because it makes her look forward to coming over to his house. My father-in-law at no point thanks me for staying an extra three hours to watch his daughter. The plan is moving along nicely. Flash forward to this morning. My father-in-law wants to go to a local amusement park for a fireworks show at around 6:00, and also wants to hit the gym with his sons before taking off for the event.
I’m super tired from the night before, which was my friend’s birthday, and I tell my boyfriend straight up that I don’t want to go, but that if his little brother’s girlfriend goes, then I would go as well so he wouldn’t be stuck alone with his father-in-law. My boyfriend says not to worry about it, and that I should just stay home, rest, and enjoy my day. He leaves on that note.
About four hours ago, my boyfriend sends me a text message saying that all of a sudden my father-in-law is telling him it’d be “okay” for him to break off from the family and go pick me up “if he wants,” because little brother’s girlfriend isn’t coming either and the little one is bugging him hard about me being there. My father-in-law was even willing to pay for my ticket and dinner.
I knew exactly what to say to ruin his day. “Nope. Tell him I have other priorities for New Year’s Eve and the rest of the winter break.” My boyfriend just messaged me saying that the little one has been sulking nonstop since my father-in-law told her that I wouldn’t be coming. Apparently, he promised her that I would be there without ever actually asking me if I wanted to come along with them for the night, and all she wants to do is go home and play with blocks.
She doesn’t want to stay for the fireworks because she’s “already seen them,” i.e. with me. My boyfriend is trying not to laugh the whole time that he’s hearing this. The moral of the story? Don’t promise your little ones that someone will be going with them to an amusement park on New Year’s Eve without ever asking or inviting them first, then subtly trying to pressure their boyfriend into convincing them to come out when they don’t show up with him.
You do that, it’s pretty much on you if you are left stuck dealing with a sulking eight-year-old while your other kid tries not to lose his mind laughing.
25. Not A Lot To Be Thankful For
My boyfriend’s grandpa physically attacked me during Thanksgiving. For some background, I’m a 28-year-old girl, and my partner is a 29-year-old guy. His grandpa is genuinely a terrible person, but my partner loves him for some reason. In all honesty, it’s pretty much for no reason. This man is old, rude, and thinks it’s hilarious to upset people on purpose.
His own family members usually bear most of the brunt of this bizarre habit of his. His own wife, as in my boyfriend’s grandma, cannot stand him. Meanwhile, everyone else just ignores or enables him. Now, on to the story of what went down last night. We were all at his uncle’s house for Thanksgiving dinner, and at first, everything was going perfectly fine.
We were all sitting on the couch, drinking a bit, and playing catch up with each other. We had been there for maybe half an hour or so at the time when things started to get weird. So I’m sitting on the couch facing the fireplace. This is an open-concept room, so there is a table and chairs set against the back of the couch where his grandpa is holding court.
Everyone is apparently discussing my career behind my back at the table. I work for a newly developing industry that is still largely outside the mainstream, so people think it’s exciting. That’s when he started. Grandpa grabs my ponytail from behind and starts jerking my head back and forth very forcefully while telling a few people about my job.
I am panicking at this point. I am completely still thanks to my awesome fight, flight, or freeze response. My partner laughs until I grab his leg and panic yell at him to get him off of me. He grabs his grandpa’s hand and pries his claws out of my hair. This whole ordeal takes maybe about three minutes or so from start to finish.
I’m destroyed. The connotations of grabbing a woman by her hair are extremely unsettling and I’ve had issues with another male family member groping me in the past, so I start to shut down. This man has just put his hands on me in an open and clearly negative way. I’m red, rashy, and quietly crying while also too physically frozen and shocked to move.
My partner asks me if I’m okay, but I’m too upset to respond besides saying “fine” and ducking my head away. Later in the car, he yells at me for overreacting because “it wasn’t really that bad.” He claims that I’m making too big of a deal about it, and that this is just how his grandpa is. Then he yells at me some more, asking what I expected him to do.
Then he asks if I want to press charges. How do I tell him that the thought of ever seeing his grandpa again makes me want to puke? That he left me feeling vulnerable and made it worse by negating my feelings as I was sobbing in the car? We had to go back to that house for family pictures later that night and I cried the whole way over because I kept having panic attacks about his grandpa cornering me in the bathroom or something.
This is a big deal, right? I’m so hurt and uncomfortable, and my heart is racing just typing this all out. I literally just started crying again.
26. Taking Out The Trash
This one happened just last night and this morning. I’m still not happy about it. I have dogs. Big dogs. We’ve already had to pay for a four-thousand dollar surgery because one of the loveable mutts ate a darn rock. Ever since that experience, we have been extra careful about making sure we don’t leave things lying around that they might swallow by mistake.
Anyway, my father-in-law was over last night. He ate a plum. And as is his tradition, instead of throwing it in the freaking trash can like a normal human being, or putting it on a plate to be taken into the kitchen, he left the bloody pit lying on my brand new white couch. Guess who found it this morning. And then guess what is highly toxic to dogs, as in they might not survive more than a few hours if they eat one.
Plum pits. Like seriously, Google it. Luckily, the mutt puked it up within ten minutes. But who the heck leaves a freaking plum pit on a white couch?! This jerk. We’ll add it to the list of: cough drops, candies, banana peels, muffin wrappers, and snack bags that he has just left on furniture and random tables. I kid you not, one day, I found a cough drop stuck to my wood table.
He stayed over a few weeks ago. I went in to clean the guest room and found the cough drop and a hard candy just sitting on the nightstand. No tissue under it, just right on the table. He’s also just left full coffee cups sitting on the couch. No one around it, just an overflowing cup sitting there. Then he gets upset when I move them because, you know… baby, dog, cat, or just plain old GRAVITY will make the darn thing spill all over my new couch!
27. Making A Change
So, I want to start by saying that I love my dad. He’s a stubborn emotional jerk, but I love him. I know he loves me, but he often is so focused on himself and his needs that he makes me distance myself from him. He had a rough childhood. My grandfather is a verbally aggressive jerk and my grandmother is cold and passive-aggressive.
They were very enmeshed with his life, but at the same time, it seemed to be only to control him and make sure he took care of my great-grandmother (i.e. his father’s mom) so that the family didn’t have to. He was 100% taken advantage of. My dad took care of my great-grandmother for 14 years. Any time that he asked for a break or explained that his PTSD was getting worse, they would guilt him by saying “Fine, I guess we’ll tell Grandma that you’re breaking your promise.”
That “promise” was that he would take care of her so she could live out the rest of her life in her home like her husband did, and not have to end up in a retirement facility. Eventually, my dad met my wonderful step-mother (who I consider my Mama), and she helped us get out of that house and not let us be manipulated by that family any longer.
She made us realize that we didn’t have the proper training to care for her and that my aunt, the trained nurse, should have been caring for my grandmother long ago or they should have hired a professional. I guess what I’m trying to say is that my family did a number on my dad. And the consequences are that he is codependent, quick to misinterpret things and get defensive, and is only slightly a problematic person as a result of this trauma.
I understand that it’s hard to break a cycle like this, so I’m starting with myself now that I have a five-month-old daughter. Now, on to the main story of my post. My husband is deployed overseas and hasn’t met his daughter yet. So it’s just me caring for my child with the occasional help of my younger brother who lives with us, but mostly stays in his room.
My Mama and dad came to visit on their way to the other side of the country and were staying in their RV for about a week. My dad knows about my boundaries, and I wouldn’t say he pushes them as much as he questions or doubts them. But I finally stood up to him. He was holding my daughter and was getting reckless with how he was playing with her.
He was doing dangerous things like balancing her with one hand, almost dropping her where she could have hit the coffee table and laughing about it. He must have seen the look on my face, because he says to me, almost challenging, “What?! If you don’t like it, take her back!” Normally in our family, we’d just be quiet and agreeable, back down and say “no, just be careful” because we don’t ever want to look like the bad guy under any circumstance.
And I maybe hesitated for half a second before reaching out my hands and taking her. My dad looked surprised, and my Mama later told me that she was proud of me because what he did was unacceptable. I was mostly worried about what she thought, because I get along so much better with her than I do with my father. Thinking about the whole thing now, I’m proud of myself, to be honest.
I don’t think anyone in my family has ever done anything like that before. But it needed to happen. And for anyone out there who is in a similar situation and constantly makes excuses for their parents’ bad behavior: I get it. I’ve lived with the guilt of not wanting to make a fuss because of the hard life, mental issues, or whatever other reason your family members have for acting the way that they do.
28. An Unwelcome Visitor
Buckle up everyone for this bumpy ride. Okay, so I was chilling in my living room around 3 am playing some video games. My parents are out of town visiting some friends and I decided to stay home, house to myself and all. So here I am, in nothing but a bra and panties, when there’s a knock on the door. “What the heck?” I think to myself.
I scramble to get my clothes on and I answer the door. It was a family acquaintance with her already whiny little brat. She’s also visibly pregnant, and we’ll get to why that part is important later. Me: Hey, what’s going on? Her: My car broke down and the tow company can’t come to get it until tomorrow, think me and my kid can crash here tonight?
Me: Sure, you guys can sleep in the living room. Once I let them in, I asked if she wanted anything and went to get the coffee she asked for. As I go get it, I see the little brat picking up my controller. Me: Hey little guy, please put that down. Her: Oh, can’t he play a game? Me: Sorry, no. I’m in the middle of something, plus he wouldn’t know how to play the type of game.
Her: But he reeealllly wants to, don’t you? Him: I WANT TO PLAY!!!! Me: No, you can’t play. Him: I WANT TO PLAY I WANT TO PLAY I WANT TO PLAAAAAAAAAAAAAY AHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH. He then throws the controller at the TV, shattering the screen. Me: WHAT THE HECK? I rush over to the TV. Her: Hey! Don’t you yell at my child! Me: YOU JUST LET HIM DESTROY MY TV LIKE THIS. Her: You’re the one who didn’t let him play the video game.
Me: I said no, and you have to teach your brat that he isn’t owed ANYTHING. Her: How dare you! Just wait until I tell your mother about how you treated him, you’ll make a terrible mom. Me: I’m not having kids, but if I did I wouldn’t let them be spoiled little brats! Her: YOU are being the brat right now! Just get a new TV and quit whining.
Me: Yeah, I’ll get a new TV with the money you pay me for the broken one. Her: WHAT?! But YOU are the one who instigated it. Me: You know what? Just get out of my house. You and your brat are no longer welcome. Her: What is wrong with you? I’m preeeegnant and have a toddler and have nowhere to go, you can’t just kick out a stranded pregnant mother and her toddler at 3 am in the cold.
Me: OH YES I CAN, YOU INSUFFERABLE WITCH. Get OUT of my house before I call the authorities. Her, picking her brat up and heading towards the door: Just wait until I tell your mother about this! Me: Yeah, I’ll gladly tell her about what the little brat to the TV and that you refused to pay for it! Her: You’ll regret this! Thankfully, though, she left.
The next morning I called my parents and explained what happened. They were very understanding because I was never raised to be a spoiled little jerk and the mom got an earful from my mom that if she didn’t pay them back we would take her to small claims. She tried to play the “Woe is me” card but it didn’t work and she forked over the $500 for the new TV. Then we cut contact with her.
29. Misplaced Anger
Yesterday afternoon, I got a call from my older brother and he told me that my mom had a miscarriage. This is hardly surprising, as she’s in her 40s. But I have a dark confession. I actually felt a huge wave of relief wash over me—because this way, my siblings’ lives would not be worsened by my parents’ insistence on adding another mouth to feed on an already tight budget.
My sister would not be asked to give up her inheritance so they could have money for their new baby. My brother told me my mom had been crying and while I did feel bad for her, I was still glad to hear about the miscarriage. I feel like we all dodged a huge bullet. My brother asked me to move back in for a while, to help comfort my mom.
I told him I wasn’t going to move in because first, my college would reopen in a few days, and two, I’m done with all the family drama. However, I did agree to come to visit my mom, if only out of courtesy. In the evening, I went over to my parents’ place. I took chocolate chip muffins for my mom, which I know she likes. My sister greeted me at the door and told me mom had been in bed all day.
After greeting my dad, I went into their bedroom. Mom was sitting up on the bed. I told her I was sorry about what happened and placed the muffins on the bedside table. Her reaction floored me. She looked at me angrily, then threw the muffins at me. She screamed at me that she had “lost her baby” because of me. She said I had caused her stress and it’s what caused her to miscarry.
She said I was probably glad her baby was gone (which is true, but of course I didn’t point that out). She called me a witch and said I had wished this upon her. She was screaming so loudly, all my siblings and my dad came rushing to the bedroom. She yelled at me to get out. I did. I hugged my older brother and sister. Before I left, my dad told me my mom was right, that my “cruelty” caused her to miscarry.
I told him that was a grossly unfair accusation and reminded him that at mom’s age, it was quite common to miscarry. Then I walked out. I’m so done with my parents and their stupidity. I can only hope they won’t try for another kid.
30. Child’s Play
My company sets up a booth at a carnival and we engaged several part-timers to assist at the carnival. The part-timers are required to go around the grounds to distribute flyers, share information, and direct visitors to our booth. On the day of the carnival, after setting up, I met up with the part-timers to prepare them for the day.
Out of all the part-timers, only this one woman was late. She mentioned she would be 15 minutes late, but it was closer to an hour. As we couldn’t wait, I briefed the others and deployed them for the day. When she arrived, she had her kid in tow, who was about five or six years old. Due to the nature of the job, we can’t have her lugging her kid while working. She knew this.
Her: My husband couldn’t handle the kid, so I had to bring her along. Me: I can’t have you working with your kid. Her: It’s not my problem. If you don’t like it, get someone to watch over him. My colleague who was watching this unfold offered to watch over her kid. He was only required to help out during the start and end of the carnival, so was entirely free during the event.
I thought alright, since he was free. Colleague: I can watch over her, get her some food, watch some shows, play some games. But you’ll need to pay me. Me: Whatever. But I’m not paying you for your time, only for the kid. Colleague (grinning): Sure. I was flabbergasted, but he told me not to worry—because he had an ingenious plan.
Once the woman started working, my colleague brought her kid systematically through every single booth throughout the entire carnival. It was the kid’s dream come true and, I believe, her best day ever. Whatever she wanted to eat, my colleague bought. She saw a lot of the shows and won many prizes. Since my colleague had a staff pass, he didn’t need to pay for the shows, only for the kid.
At the end of the carnival, when we were clocking the hours worked, the mother had the nerve to insist to be paid full even though she was late for almost an hour. She said that because of various reasons (mainly due to her kid), she would have been early. She was ranting and I didn’t really pay any attention, but it was about how I will never understand as I don’t have kids and how she deserves it because she was a mother.
My manager nearby winked at me and took over. He said he was very pleased with the day’s sales and how we are very supportive of her and we should give kids the best. He told her not to worry about the hours she worked and she will be paid in full. After hearing this, not even a single thanks from this woman, she declared in a loud voice: “At least someone understands.”
She had this condescending and victorious look on her face. Thankfully, It didn’t last long. The sucker punch for her was that her kid spent roughly $100, and with her pay at $15/hr for 8 hrs, she made a whopping $20 for the whole day. My colleague made it a point to keep track of the expenses (receipts, tickets, stubs, etc.) and took tons of photos.
Of course, she threw a fit, but with the amount of evidence and her daughter vouching for all the fun she had, it was tough to have a leg to stand on. She had no case except to yell “I’M NOT PAYING FOR THIS!!” and then she grabbed her daughter and stormed off. We look forward to payday when we issue her a cheque for $20 for her time.
31. Fun For The Whole Family
This took place a couple of years ago, when I was 17 and I used to spend part of my summers helping out in my grandpa’s restaurant. The restaurant was located on the bottom floor of our family house in a little village (30 inhabitants) and my maternal great-grandparents lived on the upper floor. In the restaurant, my great-grandmother and my grandma were in charge of cooking and my great-grandpa and granddad were in charge of attending the tables.
It was kind of small, as it had like eight tables of four on the inside, and we could set another two outside if the weather was good. As the restaurant also served as a bar, it was filled with locals. Since many of them were retired, they used to spend the whole day playing cards and drinking, so although it was a small location, in summer usually it was full of people.
Also, my great-grandparents founded this restaurant in the year 1941, therefore it was well-known and had a good reputation among the locals. I’m also proud to say that my great-grandparents were very loved in their community as they really were great people. Although it was a quite remote place, in summer we used to get like four or five groups of tourists per week.
The rule was that my brother and I were in charge of serving their tables as we were the only ones who knew any other language than Spanish, our native tongue. Our opening hours at the time were from 12:00 to 22:30 but the kitchen was only open from 13:00 to 15:00 and from 19:30 to 21:00. We only served one menu, composed of a starter, two main dishes, dessert, and cider or water.
So now the story. It was around 16:00, therefore most of the customers had finished eating and were chatting over a cup of coffee or some pints. My grandparents and great-grandparents were still eating as they waited until everyone was finished. Meanwhile, my brother and I were in charge of serving the tables just in case anyone wanted something else to drink.
Suddenly we hear a car outside, and I can hear a woman loudly speaking in English. As soon as they enter, this happens. Her: We would like to have a table, X from the Y Hotel told us this was a great place to eat. Me: I’m sorry ma’am, but the kitchen is already closed as it’s kind of late. Her: Yes, it’s late because we got lost in these stupid roads! Is it so difficult to put proper signals? Also, we have a little kid who is hungry.
Me: Oh, I’m sorry to hear that, let me check If I can do something for you. I then went inside and explained the situation to my grandma, who told me to attend them as everything was already prepared and it would be just heating the food. Her: Well, are you going to give us a table or not? If the kitchen is closed, how is it that those people are eating.
At this point, she pointed at my grandpas. At the moment, I thought she was behaving like that because she was kind of hungry. I wasn’t really used to dealing with rude people, as the majority of tourists used to be really respectful. Me: Well those are the owners, so they can eat whenever they want. (I said this while laughing a bit). Anyway, I have just asked them and you will be able to eat too, so please follow me to your table.
They follow me to the table and I explain to them that there is only one menu. They give me a strange look but they seem OK with that. I serve them the bread and I put a bottle of water on the table. They start devouring the bread so my “They were a bit rude cause they were hungry” theory seemed to be confirmed. I was so, so wrong.
As soon as I bring the starter, the dad demands to have the Wi-Fi password. Him: Hey, we see that there is a Wi-Fi network, what’s is the password? Me: Yes, there is one. However, the Wi-Fi is for the staff’s personal use. (We had a measured and reeeeally slow connection that my grandpa used for checking some newspapers and my brother and I used for sending Whatsapps to our friends). Him: That’s ridiculous! We are paying customers and we deserve to have access to your Wi-Fi!
Mom: Yes, our little angel wants to watch some videos. We don’t have any kind of internet access here! Me: Sorry, but as I have said it’s for personal use. Mom: That’s not right, this would be unacceptable in America. Me: Well, I’m sorry to inform you that we are not in America. The mom tells something to the kid and he starts running around the restaurant, stomping his feet and shouting
My great-grandpa comes to me and asks me what is happening, I explain the whole situation to him and he asks me to please translate what he is going to say. Him: Please lady control your child, or I will have to ask you three to leave. Her: DON’T YOU DARE TELL ME HOW TO RAISE MY CHILD YOU DINOSAUR! Father: DON’T GET CLOSE TO MY CHILD YOU OLD CREEP! By this point, everyone is of course looking with disbelief to these morons.
I hesitate for a second, but translate all of this to my great-grandpa, expecting a not really nice reaction. Instead of saying anything, he slowly turns around and asks two men who are sitting at a table to take the whole family out of his restaurant. I proceed to explain to the family that if they don’t get out, those two men, who also happened to be law enforcement officers, would be taking them out.
They don’t seem to believe that those two men were officers and they refused to leave until we served them. Finally, both men stood up, showed their plaques, and asked them (in their best English) to leave. They finally stand up and leave. However, as they were leaving the officers realized that they had parked in front of our garage, blocking it.
At that point, they decided to ask for their rental car papers while taking a couple of photos and giving them a fine for blocking a private property garage.
32. Something’s Fishy
I’m allergic to fish/seafood. It’s not the anaphylactic type of allergy, thank goodness, so I’m not going to die if I eat some, but I do throw up, have a stomach ache, and a massive headache for a few hours. Enough fish/seafood and I break out in small red hives over my arms. My mother didn’t believe it and as a child, I couldn’t stand up to her properly.
She’d force me to eat stuff with seafood or fish in it to “prove” I wasn’t allergic, then ignore me as I was sick. One day, she held a dinner party. I was dressed up beautifully and trotted out to parade before the guests. At the time, I was about nine, precocious for my age, and absolutely fed up with my mother making me sick from food.
When she held out a fish cutlet (fish cooked with vegetables, rolled into a ball, covered in batter and fried) for me to eat, I saw my chance. Me, loudly: “I can’t eat that, I’m allergic to fish.” Mother: “No, you’re not. Eat it.” Me: “I am allergic! I’ll throw up!” No Asian mother will back down in front of guests for fear of looking like she can’t discipline her child.
So my mother grabbed the fish cutlet, shoved it to my mouth, and said in her most firm voice of command, “EAT.” So I ate it. Cut to about ten minutes later. I go up to my mother and tug on her sari to get attention. Me: “I don’t feel well—” BARF. I vomited on her, on the expensive carpet, and in full view of all the guests. My mother has a reputation for being a kind, generous, charitable, and very religious woman, so in front of all the guests, she couldn’t do anything except act sympathetic and send me off to bed to recover.
She never made me eat fish or seafood again.
33. Adults Only
I attended an adult-only wedding for a co-worker a few days ago. The actual ceremony was in a very small church, so it was mostly family and close friends but the reception was for roughly 250 people. The reception was at a very elegant hotel ballroom. Not child-friendly in any way. Crystal stemware, expensive linens on the table, etc.
About 1/2 hour into the reception, a commotion started that made everyone stare. This entitled mother is arguing with the wedding planner loudly. Me being the nosy broad that I am, I inched closer to hear. It turns out this woman brought her four young children to the reception even though the invitations clearly stated Adults Only.
The entitled mother insisted that her kids—the oldest one looked eight and the youngest was under a year old—were super well-behaved so it was fine. Now keep in mind this was around 7:30 pm. The planner was having none of it. She insisted that children were not allowed and she had to leave. In a last ditch effort to get admitted, the mother shouted at the bride.
The bride went over and listened to her for a moment, and then said in a syrupy sweet voice, “Of course you can come in, but your children cannot.” Then she turned on her heel and went back to her new husband. The mother flipped a nut, yelling about how she was invited, couldn’t find a babysitter, etc. Three of the groomsmen escorted her and her kids to the door.
34. What’s Mine Isn’t Yours
This happened about five years ago. My fiancée and I have been together for seven years this month. We were reminiscing about some old stories yesterday when this one came up, and she suggested I share it. She was my girlfriend at the time, and at the time I was fully aware that her mom was a few fries short of a happy meal, but this was the pinnacle of her behavior.
My girlfriend Ellie and I weren’t living together at the time, she just stayed over from time to time when she could. I took her home after she had been staying with me a couple of days and was heading to work. But shortly after, just before getting to work, I get a phone call from her and I can tell she is in tears. Apparently, when she got inside her house, her mother immediately blew up on her about being gone for SOOO long.
It was only two days and she TOLD her mom she was going to be gone and kept in contact with her while she was gone. But Ellie just sort of brushed it off and went to her room. The house was pretty much your stereotypical crazy cat lady house. Badly decaying, cats all over the place, going to the bathroom in random places and whatnot.
When Ellie gets to her room, she realizes that while she was gone, the cats peed and pooped over a pile of her clean clothes. But whatever, Ellie decided to just bag them up and she would wash them next time she came to my place. Her mom didn’t have a functioning washer at the time. Apparently, that REALLY set her mom off.
Her mom apparently thought Ellie was bagging her clothes because she was planning to go BACK to my place that night to stay another few days. So she stomped into her room, grabbed the bag, ripped it open, and flung the clothes all over the room along with the cat refuse while screaming at Ellie that she’s not going anywhere. That’s when Ellie ran outside and called me.
She was so upset and didn’t know what to do. Her mom had been doing crazy stuff to Ellie since I’d been with her, but up until then I just helped her however I could while not getting involved and not saying a word to her mom. I told her to go ahead and get the things she needs, and I’ll take her to my place. She said she would love that.
I told my work I was gonna be late due to an emergency, and turned around to go pick her up. When I pulled back up to the house, Ellie was in the driveway crying. I went and hugged her, told her it was gonna be ok and that she could stay with me as a long as she wanted. So she went back inside to get her things. As I was standing outside waiting, I heard the door open again and went to help Ellie with her things…uh-oh…it’s her mom.
She comes stomping out with her hair crazy and frizzled, wearing an old nightgown. She beelines for me and gets right in my face. Her (with an extremely thick high pitched southern accent): My daughter said I need to come out here and ask what you think of me! (I knew that was a blatant lie as Ellie would NEVER instigate this.)
Her: You got something to say?? Huh?? You think I’m trash don’t you huh?? That’s what you think, isn’t it?? Again, up until now, I’d COMPLETELY kept my mouth shut, and was trying to maintain that. But this woman was up in my face, freaking out, and was tormenting the woman I loved, so I finally looked at her and broke my silence.
Me: Why do you treat her like this? Her: *GASP* WHAT DO YOU MEAN?? THAT’S MY DAUGHTER AND I WORSHIP THE GROUND SHE WALKS ON!!! Me: Oh really? So calling her names is worship? Her: *GASP* I WOULD NEVER SAY ANYTHING LIKE THAT! Me: (getting rather irate) Lies! I’ve HEARD you say things. Her: *EXPLOSION* YOU GET OFF MY PROPERTY!!!!!!!!
Ok, I almost never find myself in situations like this, so I’m not used to it. I say that because after she said this, I pretty much saw red. I’m not proud of it, but I just started shouting every curse word in the book I could possibly think of at the top of my lungs while she went back into the house. But thankfully, that only lasted a few seconds and I immediately calmed down.
So finally Ellie comes back out with her stuff. We put it in the car and I assume it’s over…but Ellie turns to me and says, “I’m sorry but we can’t leave yet.” Me: Why not?
Ellie: *Sigh* Mom called the authorities. I sort of had a feeling that would happen, no big deal. So we just sat and waited for the officer to arrive. After about 10 minutes or so, a patrol car pulls up.
Right when he does, her mom comes out of the house, and…Oh my god. Yes, she was doing EXACTLY what you think. She INSTANTLY puts on the fragile brittle old lady act. Hunched over, walking slowly, the whole gig. And of course, when the officer asks her what happened, she has to pitch her entire medical chart to the guy. Ellie will tell you this woman has been “terminally” ill for 12 years, ha.
So when she finally gets done trying to milk this poor guy for sympathy, she tells her version of what happened. Her: Sir, he came onto my property and verbally attacked me! He’s awful to me sir and I’ve never even done anything to him! He’s turned my daughter against me and is trying to convince her to leave!! At first, he seemed somewhat sympathetic to her…until he turns to Ellie.
Officer: Ma’am, this is your boyfriend? Ellie: Yes sir. Him: Ok, and how old are you? Ellie: Sir…I’m 23. This was my favorite part because the officer looked up from his notepad with a look of “Wait, what?” Obviously, he was thinking Ellie was a minor or something based on how her mother was acting, but quickly realized just what he was dealing with.
Eventually, he turns to me. Officer: Ok sir, please give me your version of what happened. I did so. Funny side note, at one point the officer looks up at me and says, Officer: You look really familiar…do I know you? It actually turned out the officer and I had gone to high school together. Once we recognized each other, we laughed and shook hands very briefly.
This was hilarious because out of the corner of my eye, I see the mom has a big scowl on her face as she sees me getting friendly with him. Anyway, the officer puts his notepad away and turns to me. He says the following with this heavy tone of “I know that you are fully aware of this and I don’t believe you are in the wrong at all, but I have to say this as a formality.”
Officer: Well, she doesn’t want you on the property, so be aware that if you come back here you technically can be charged with trespassing. Do you understand this as I’ve explained it? Me: Absolutely sir. Mother: But sir, I want to press charges! Officer: He didn’t do anything wrong, ma’am. Mother: But he verbally attacked me!
Officer: I understand that, and while that was ill-advised (he slightly turns to me and gives me a small gesture with his hand, and I nod in agreement), it’s not something I could detain him for. He agrees he will not come back on your property without your direct permission. Mother: Ugh! Ok fine, whatever! Ellie, come back inside!
Ellie: What? No! Mother: You heard the officer, he is leaving and you’re staying here! Officer: Whoa, ma’am, I didn’t say that at all. Mother: BUT…BU— Officer: Your daughter is not a child ma’am, she is a full-grown adult, and she has every right to go wherever she wants. Mother: I’m her mother! She lives under my roof! I told her she needs to stay here, so she needs to stay!!
Officer No ma’am, that’s not how it works. If she wants to go stay with her boyfriend, there is absolutely nothing you can do to stop her. She now starts the fake crocodile tears and stomps into the house in defeat. Ellie and I thanked the officer, got in the car, and left. We’ve been living together ever since. The best part of all is that this has a happy ending.
Believe it or not, the entitled mom isn’t really much of an entitled mom anymore. Over the years since that day, she has actually decided to make an effort to try and improve herself. I guess she realized that if she didn’t make changes, she would lose her relationship with Ellie. So she started taking advantage of her medical coverage and went to see her psychiatrist and got medicine for the mental illness she actually had, as opposed to the ones she would make up.
Since then…well, she has actually gotten WAY better. She takes her medicine regularly and has a boyfriend who is an EXTREMELY kind man and treats Ellie as though she were his own daughter. We actually get along very well and we see them frequently, and we help each other out whenever we can. We actually look back on the early years when she WAS in fact entitled, and laugh.
So not only is everybody getting along well, we can actually share the cringe stories and happily laugh about them.
35. Grand Theft Grandma
I am currently pregnant with my first child, and both my mom and stepdad have been terrible to me and my partner the entire time. They told us we would be unfit parents because we aren’t married yet, and legitimately screamed at my partner for “knocking up their little girl” even though we planned the pregnancy. They would call him every day and harass him, and even show up to his work.
They try to convince him to leave me so I would have no choice but to move back in with them. It got worse as time went on, and I finally decided to cut contact with them. Having a child can already be a stressful time, and having them around to make it worse was not something I was okay with. My partner and I have gone through a lot with family drama the past couple of years and having this baby has been one of the most exciting things for us.
If my parents can’t be nice to my partner, then they don’t get to see our baby. One day I sent my mom a very detailed email of why she is not allowed to be a part of my life anymore and will not be seeing her grandchild. To make things even better, I also noted that we will be moving across the country shortly after she is born to be closer to other family members.
So not only is she cut off, but we are literally moving far away and never coming back. Her reply chilled me to the bone. She responds by showing up at our house at 11 pm, screaming outside our door about how it is her baby and she deserves to be there for it. I tell her to screw off and eventually, she leaves. Months go by and she will text me randomly asking about technical problems with her Wi-Fi router or something.
Little things like that don’t mean much to me, so I sent her the info she needed. My cousin also had a virtual baby shower and sent my invitation to my mom’s house accidentally, so my mom came by to give it to me. Things slowly came to a point that we were fairly amicable with each other, but I still stood my ground about our boundaries and nothing else had changed.
She knew this. Then she sends me a video today that blew my mind. She redecorated her entire guest room to be a nursery. Crib, changing table, $400-worth of newborn clothes, toy chest, stroller, a car seat for her car, and the list goes on. In the video, she is in tears saying “I can’t believe my baby is going to be here soon, this is where she will sleep, where I will change her little diapers, these will be her toys.”
Is she psychotic!? HER baby?? Sleeping and living at HER house?? What!? So I call her up immediately and I reiterate that we are still moving across the country soon and that she will have no contact with the baby before that. Her response? “Oh okay, we will see about that!” Genuinely confused. What part of “you will have no contact with this baby” does she not understand or thinks will change in the next few weeks when she is born?
Is she planning on taking her from us? I am at a loss for words.
36. If You Know, You Know
I’m home from college, and my parents require me to have a summer job. I’m blessed enough that I get to keep all the money I earn, my parents just like me to work to gain experience. This will be relevant later, but I’m not a skinny girl. I wouldn’t consider myself large either, I’m 5’6” tall and weigh about 140-145 lbs. right now and carry most of it in my hips and thighs.
The freshman 15 did hit me hard though, as I used to be 120ish. So today after finishing my last online final, my dad called me. He told me that one of his friends who runs a company texted him that they were looking for girls to work in the office, answering phones and stuff. I got excited because that’s exactly what I wanted, so I put on a dress, printed a copy of my résumé, and drove down.
The ladies inside were super nice and asked me to fill out an application, so I sat down to do so. We’re in the South which might be relevant, because typically for jobs like this they’re looking for a “pretty face” to sit behind the counter and talk to customers. This is unspoken, though. Yes, it’s awful but hey, I needed a job. So, as I’m filling out an application, this entitled mom enters with her teenage daughter.
She announces that she’s here about the opening and her daughter would like to apply. The one receptionist explains that she’ll need to fill out an application and hands her one and a pen. They come to sit in the lobby, right beside me, which I thought was weird but I didn’t say anything. Mom (to me): “Are you here for the job as well?” Me: “Yes ma’am.” Mom: “Hmph.” You know, that little cocky sound people make? I ignored her and went up to ask the receptionist a question about the application.
When I returned and sat back down, the mother walked up to the desk. Mom: “Does my daughter even really need to fill this out?” Receptionist: “It’s protocol. The boss will look at all the applications and decide who to call for an interview.” Mom: “Is he here? I’m sure if he could see my daughter, he’d know who he wanted to call, ha!”
Receptionist: “He is, but he isn’t seeing visitors right now.” Mom: “How will he know who to hire if he doesn’t know what the girls look like?” Receptionist: “Well, he will need to see their references and will make a few calls before he—” Mom: “No. My daughter is an aspiring model. She won [insert local pageant] in 2019. He needs to see her to know she’s the face he wants to see behind the counter interacting with customers.”
Receptionist: “I’m not sure what you mean? This isn’t a modeling job, looks don’t really matter…” Mom: “Oh I know, but they do. And let’s face it, your boss isn’t going to want” —at this point, she leans in closer— “a chubby girl up here, is he?” This whole time, the daughter is smirking at me in glances as she fills out her application.
This caught the attention of the second receptionist as well as me, and we both looked up at this point. Other receptionist: “Ma’am, I’m not sure I know what you mean.” Mom: “Oh, no disrespect, I just know the boss personally and know he’d prefer a new pretty face around the office. Maybe I’m a little biased, but I think there’s no question between my daughter and, well, this young lady for example. No offense honey, just trying to save you some time.”
At this point, I’m in tears. I don’t know if it was rage or the sting of her insult, but either way, I was NOT going to let her see me cry, so I quickly got up and handed my application to the first receptionist before trying to leave. Second receptionist (who is a plus-sized woman): “Sweetie, wait.” (talking to me) (turning to the mom) “You say you know the boss personally, right?”
Mom: “Oh, yes, we went to high school together.” Second receptionist: “And you know him so well that you know he’d prefer a skinny woman behind this desk?” Mom: “Well, I didn’t say that, but I’d assume so.” This is when the hammer dropped down. Second receptionist: “Great. Well, I’m his wife and I’ve worked behind this desk for almost 15 years now, and as you can see I could probably drop a few, and I take personal offense to what you’re saying about my husband and this young lady, so I’d like you to wait in the car while your daughter fills out her application.”
Both the mom and the daughter stormed out at that point, with the daughter taking her application, so I don’t know if she’ll apply or not. But, both women behind the counter told me that the mom was a witch and they’d vouch for me with the boss, so I’m hopeful that I got the job!
37. In The Dog House
So I’m a 20-year-old woman and I work as a dog groomer. I’ve been one for four, almost five years. The big thing in dog grooming is reputation, quality, and time management. Yesterday, we were expecting a girl to come in at 10:00 to try out as a dog groomer. She was promising, 23 or 25 years old, and had worked as a dog groomer at other places.
She didn’t show till 4:30. No call. No nothing. She apparently had a hair appointment and friends from out of town came in so they got their nails done. She asked if she could groom now. I said no, I don’t think so. When she pressed, I said (and I might be a jerk for saying this): “We don’t want or need you. There’s no need to reschedule your try-out.”
I went back to get my last two dogs done. Apparently, she cried and I was starting to feel bad. Then came the entitled mother. Her mom came in this morning demanding we give her a second chance. I told her, “Your daughter was six and a half hours late. That’s not something that works in dog grooming.” The mom replied, “She was with friends. I’d think someone your age would understand that.”
Me: “Not when there’s a job interview. She didn’t call or anything.” At this point, I was ticked and over it. I have five dogs to get done. She said, “Well, there was no reason to make her cry!” I said I disagree and got back to work. Apparently, she stayed up there and demanded we give her another shot. As head dog groomer I said, not gonna happen. She left eventually, saying her daughter was too good for us.
38. Born This Way
My best friend and I were on a beach, just chilling. Now, my best friend is on the big-breasted side of the spectrum. So, bikinis are a nightmare to her. She is always stared at, and that makes her really uncomfortable. Anyway, we were in a more secluded part of the beach, and we had already swum and decided to sit a bit. When we come back to our chairs, a family has settled down near us.
The mom was in her late 30s and the dad was in his early 50s. They had a child with them, a boy about nine years old. We didn’t pay any mind to them, we just sat on our chairs and talked for a bit. I noticed the dad of the family looking at my friend, but shrugged it off. Soon, I decide to pick something to drink (there was a bar nearby) and I asked my friend if she wanted something.
She asked me for a lemonade. I go to the bar and see the mother of the family coming near me. I waited in line until the woman comes to talk to me. Her: “Hi, I saw that you and your friend are nearby me and my family.” I just nodded to her. Her: “I think your friend is really beautiful, but she is showing too much cleavage.”
I looked at her, trying to think of how to respond to this. Me: “Well, she can’t be faulted for being born with big breasts can she?” She looked at me like she was expecting me to agree with her, and was now shocked. Her: “Well, she could try not wearing a bikini that small!” She said this with a somewhat annoyed voice. Me: “She can do whatever she wants, lady.”
She turned red at that. I don’t think that this woman had ever heard someone disagree with her before. Her: “My child will be traumatized!” I looked back to where my friend is sitting, and I have a clear view of her and the family. This woman’s child is making sandcastles, while her husband is staring hard at my friend, who was putting on sunscreen at the time.
So, the problem was not her child, it was her husband. Me: “Well I can’t do much lady, now please leave me alone.” I picked up my drinks and ignored the woman. She wasn’t happy about it, though. Her: “Don’t you dare ignore me young man, I’m not finished.” I just look at her and took a sip of my drink before saying, “Lady, your kid isn’t even looking at my friend, your husband on the other hand…”
I pointed at her husband who was staring at my friend with hungry eyes. She looked shocked. I go to my friend, give her her drink and sit beside her, all while watching as the wife comes back and furiously whispers to her husband. Not long after, my friend and I decided to leave. I didn’t tell my friend about the crazy lady, she has enough confidence issues. At least I didn’t see this family ever again.
39. For Karen And Country
I joined the army right out of high school. During basic training, I volunteered for a unit known as The Old Guard, which is responsible for ceremonies in the DC area and funerals in Arlington National Cemetery, amongst other duties. It consists of units you may have heard of, such as the US Army Drill Team and the Sentinels of the Tomb of the Unknowns.
So it’s the 4th of July in DC. Big celebration, all kinds of stuff going on. I’m sure you can picture it. Most of the celebration goes on in front of the Capitol on the National Mall. As part of the festivities, my unit, the Presidential Salute Battery, fires the bass line for the performance of the 1812 overture. Only the more seasoned guys in the platoon get picked to do it, so the rest of us are given a cordoned-off area in the very front.
We bring some food, some chairs, our families, and we have a cookout during the day and watch the show when it starts. During the earlier parts of the day, it isn’t too crowded, but as evening draws near it becomes packed, nearly shoulder-to-shoulder. Fortunately, as I mentioned before, we had our own area at the front roped off from the general public, giving us ample room to have our cookout.
Throughout the day, we would have people politely ask if they could join us, we said no but were always respectful. We weren’t in uniform, but we had our unit T-shirts on so we were still representing the army. Enter Karen. It’s midway through the afternoon, still a few hours before the show. We’re enjoying the weather and the time off.
I happened to be near the edge of our area when I hear someone behind me. I turn around and there she is, pinched face and a haircut that says “I want to speak with your manager’s manager.” Karen: Excuse me young man, could you ask your father to take this rope down? This is supposed to be a public area for everyone and my kids can’t see the Capitol.
Mind you, there are signs hanging on the rope every five feet explaining the purpose of the rope. Me: (with my best PR smile) I’m sorry ma’am, this area is reserved for members of The Old Guard and their families. If you’d like to come back a little closer to dusk, we’ll be taking the rope down around then. Karen: The Old Guard? I’ve never heard of that before.
Me: (always happy to drop knowledge) Ma’am, We are the primary ceremonial unit for the US Army and escort to the President of the US of A. Karen: I don’t see the president. Shouldn’t you be escorting him or something then? rolls eyes Me: Uhh…. (I had no idea how to respond to that, fortunately, I was saved.) Platoon Sergeant: (Places hand on my shoulder) Good afternoon ma’am, I’m Sergeant First Class Guyincharge, what seems to be the problem?
As I knew this was my cue to get out, I went back to my chair and observed their interaction. Couldn’t hear anything, but the interaction concluded with Karen walking away looking annoyed. Didn’t think anything else of it…until about two hours later. We’re cleaning up our trash, breaking down the chairs and tables and such. Out of the corner of my eye, I see Karen approaching again.
This time she has two Capitol officers in tow. My sergeant must have noticed too, as I heard him mutter “what in the heck?” under his breath as he walked to intercept the trio. Again, I didn’t hear all of the conversation, but we all heard about it later. Sergeant: Officers, what seems to be the problem? Officers: (Obviously exasperated by the situation) Sergeant Guyincharge, we received a report that you and your group were making lewd gestures and comments towards this woman’s family. Is there any truth to this?
Sergeant: Absolutely not. I’ve been supervising them all day, nothing even close to that has happened today. Offices: (nodding as though this was what they expected) We had assumed that, but we had to follow up. Sorry to bother you. Karen: You mean you’re going to just let them sit there and hog up all of the space!? I drove my kids nine hours to see this!!!!!
Officers: Ma’am, these men are here with the express permission of the District of Columbia. There are signs there (points to a sign not three feet away) that explicitly state that. Sergeant: (trying to diffuse the situation) Ma’am, we’re cleaning up our area right now. As soon as we are done we will be removing the rope to let everyone in. If you can be patient and wait, we can get you and your family right up front here in about 20 minutes.
Karen proceeded to stare at them, much like a cow stares at an incoming train. Then she spun around and walked away without another word. We think it’s all over, we go back to what we were doing. We were wrong. We’re just finishing up, taking the ropes off of the pylons and stacking the pylons in the arms of another dude in the platoon.
Out of nowhere, here comes Karen, trailed by her four children and obviously stressed spouse. “It’s about time! Get out of my way!” Karen all but screams as she goes barreling right through Private Anotherguy. Now, to be in The Old Guard, you have to be between 5′ 10″ and 6′ 4″ and maintain the army standard of physical fitness. To add to that, we are an infantry unit.
If you aren’t aware, the infantry is generally the front-line combat, and we are trained for just that. So, suffice to say, none of us were small, nor weak. Karen was probably around 180ish. So when I say she barreled through this dude, I mean it. She put some force into it. Anotherguy goes sprawling to the ground, steel pylons fly in every direction.
A couple hit him in the face, and he chipped a tooth and split his eyebrow open. One pylon bounces off the ground and hits one of Karen’s children in the leg. The kid, probably 12 or 13, starts wailing like he lost a limb. As we are helping Anotherguy to his feet, Karen is losing every last ounce of her mind. Red-faced, screaming about how she’s going to sue us for assault, how we’ve ruined her family vacation blah blah blah……
At this point, the sergeant is done with her. If Karen thought she was being loud, she quickly learned there are few things louder than a ticked-off senior NCO. With a single word, he quieted everyone within 50 feet of us. Sergeant: STOP! (paused for dramatic effect) THAT IS ENOUGH. YOU HAVE BEEN HARASSING ME ALL AFTERNOON. WE HAVE TRIED TO BE NICE, WE HAVE TRIED TO BE RESPECTFUL. YOU HAVE BEEN NOTHING BUT RUDE. NOW YOU’VE INJURED ONE OF MY MEN. THIS. STOPS. NOW!
I think Karen might have had a small stroke right then. She stood, mouth agape, not able to utter a single word. And then, as if right on cue, here come those two Capitol officers. They hadn’t been far away and had seen the entire incident. I didn’t think Karen’s eyes could get any wider, until the first officer pulled out a pair of cuffs and said, “Ma’am turn around and put your hands behind your back. You are under arrest for assault and harassment.”
She tried every excuse she could think of, but the officers were having exactly none of it. They talked to Anotherguy, and he wanted to press charges, so they carted her off. I don’t know what the father did with the kids, they disappeared when the officers took Karen. Come to find out after Anotherguy comes back from the court hearing that Karen had been carrying three bottles of pills that weren’t hers, plus two credit cards that weren’t hers either.
No idea what kind of time she got, but it wasn’t enough. After all was said and done, we watched the 1812 overture and laughed about Karen for weeks afterward. Anotherguy was fine, a chipped tooth and a little bit of bruising. Nothing major, fortunately.
40. A Pregnant Pause
My pregnancy was okay up until the last month. It was 95 degrees outside, I was retaining so much water, my sandals hardly fit on the biggest setting, and I was constantly in pain. It sucked. I run (waddle) to the store for a couple last-minute things for baby, and I was sooo relieved that there was a parking spot for preggos and parents near the entrance.
I pulled in and took a few moments to chug water and gather my things when I notice a car pull up to my left. They were half in the handicap parking stall and yelling something out the window. I rolled my window down and hear “you shouldn’t be in that spot, you don’t have kids. My son shouldn’t have to walk from the back of the parking lot.”
It was something to that effect; I was a little stunned to be honest. I calmly told her that I was VERY pregnant, and this stall was for pregnant women, too. She kept talking to her son, but at me, you know what I mean? “Sorry son, you have to walk in the heat, because this lady parked in our spot.” So, I opened my door and hoisted my giant, land-whale-esque body out of my car.
She was still turned around “talking to her son” and when she finally saw me, I was about three feet away from her window. I bent down (ha, no, I tilted my head down) and said “Do you see how pregnant I am? I think you and your son will be okay walking.” And then I saw the son…and he was like seven?!? The kid can walk. She just sighed and drove away.
41. Bottling It Up
My daughter had a friend over for a sleepover last weekend. They’re both 13-year-old girls, and it was all fairly standard stuff. Watch bad movies, stay up too late, eat too much junk food, you know the drill. Both kids seemed to have a nice time, and the visiting kid was nice enough for someone else’s teenage child, and I really didn’t think too much more about it.
Until… the friend’s mother called me Sunday night, absolutely outraged over what I had done while her child was in my care. Was it allowing them to stay up too late? Was it the junk food? Was it the choice of film I allowed them to watch? No, it was far worse than that. Imagine the mother’s horror when she discovered I had allowed her child to…wait for it…drink tap water.
Turns out, only bottled water is acceptable for her family. Now, I know some places, there are issues drinking tap water. We live in an area with excellent tap water quality, so I was kind of baffled by what the issue was. I told her, “Um, our tap water is fine, and your kid didn’t say anything at the time,” but oh no, that wasn’t good enough.
You see, tap water has toxins in it, it’s not safe and her family only drinks bottled water, and she is “frankly shocked and disturbed that her child was associating with the child of such an awful, awful parent.”
She finished by saying that I could “rest assured she would be calling CPS first thing Monday to have my child removed from such a harmful environment.” I was just kind of stunned and didn’t really say anything, and she hung up on me. I’d love to know where she thinks bottled water companies get their water from, and second, we’re in Australia, and CPS isn’t a thing here. So yeah. They’re out there.
42. Phoning It In
I’m a half-black woman who grew up in a ghetto and worked hard through high school to earn a scholarship and full ride through college. I now work a very decent job and make a reasonable amount of money, which I’m not afraid to show off, though I do maintain my ghetto heritage. Naturally, racism is a touchy subject for me. So here I am minding my own business in a local coffee place answering some emails on my new Samsung note 10.
It’s my day off so I’m not dressed particularly well. Hoodie, sweatpants, you know the deal. I noticed that this entitled mother and her kid are staring at me. Not a big deal especially since this is an upper-class area and I’m, well me, and with my demeanor. Eventually, they walk over to me and the mother says, “You! Where did you get that?”
ME: “Um, I bought it?” HER: “How?” ME: “How do you think?” HER: “People like ‘you’ can’t afford phones like that, you must have taken it.” At this point, I’m sort of in shock and speechless. She follows up with: “I should report you to the authorities, but I’m willing to let this go if you hand the phone over to my precious baby son, now!”
ME: “Why would I do that?” HER: “Because you took it and don’t deserve it!” ME: “You’re not getting my phone.” At this point, the manager walks over after noticing the situation and tries to calm everyone down. Manager: Ma’am, I need you to keep it down. This is a coffee shop.” HER: “THIS WOMAN TOOK MY SON’S PHONE. Manager: “Wait what?” HER: “I want a full refund, my phone back, and some compensation.”
Manager: (to me) “Ma’am, you need to give her the phone back or I’m calling the authorities.” ME: “But it’s my phone.” HER: “THAT’S MY SONS PHONE.” Manager: “Ma’am, that’s clearly not your phone.” At this point, the kid is screeching. I can’t really make out what he’s saying but he’s reaching for my phone. Having dealt with this stuff all my life, I began to go off at all three of them so naturally officers were called.
The officers immediately apprehended me (and only me) and confiscated my phone. They also took the mother’s kid’s, and manager’s statements before taking mine last. All three of them told the officer an exaggerated version of events. At this point, you’d have thought I was some homeless Black person who’d just mugged a 13-year-old if you believed the story they told.
I gave them my statement and told them I would refuse to cooperate any further until they checked the security footage. The coffee shop refused to let them check since as far as they were concerned, it was clear I was a thief and I’d been apprehended, so what’s the point? Eventually, the security footage was checked, and everything became very awkward after that.
The officers awkwardly apologized and even went out of their way to make excuses. None of the coffee shop staff actually said anything to me once I was apprehended. Guess I’m not going back there now. The kid never stopped screeching even as I left after being released, and the mother seemed completely unfazed by the security footage and continued to claim that I must have taken it from someone else because “my type” can’t afford those phones.
So that was another day off ruined by entitled parents and racial profiling. I wish I could say I was surprised by the absolute gall of that woman, but to be honest, I’ve experienced so many of these situations nothing surprises me anymore.
43. The Queen’s English
This story took place five months ago. So my stepmom is British. Welsh, to be exact. For those who don’t know, Wales is the little hump west of England and north of Cornwall. It’s a beautiful place known for sheep. My stepmom is ethnically Welsh, but raised in England. Despite this, my Nain and Taid (Welsh for grandma and grandpa) insisted on her and her brother learning Welsh to preserve their heritage.
The Welsh are a proud people, and so they wanted to ensure their children were as immersed as they could be. So she grew up bilingual, went to university, got a job working for a certain tech giant, and moved to the US to help train their staff. A few years later, she met my dad and joined the family. At the time I was still getting over my mom, so her presence was less than welcome.
Despite this, my stepmom never pushed me or tried to buy her way in. She gave me the room I needed to grieve, and, when I was ready, showered me with enough affection to make up for the lost time. She has my eternal love and respect for it and has become my second mother. Now, we live in a large town in the mid-west, being west of the seaboard but east of the Mississippi, so while most people are open to outsiders, there’s the usual few who just want to ruin everything.
Around Christmas time, I was visiting home from college with my girlfriend, Charlie, enjoying some quality girls’ time with my stepmom. We were in the mall, searching for some place that sold plastic modeling glue for my dad (he’s really into Warhammer). During this, my stepmom is on the phone with her brother, who still lives in the UK, catching up and sharing some laughs.
They were speaking Welsh to each other, which happened to offend a woman who has since earned the title of Karen. We were standing in front of the mall map, trying to find the hobby store when I heard a loud scoff from behind us. I turned to see a woman dressed in a rather nice-looking business suit corralling her kids away like they’d just encountered a streaker.
Now I was ready to let it go, but Charlie can get very defensive of people she likes, so she ended up calling her out. “Something offend you, ma’am?” The woman seemed to ponder her next move before responding with that oh so stupid phrase. “You’re in America! When you’re here, you speak English! Not Muslim! My kids don’t need to hear that!”
Now, I’ve met some pretty stupid people in my life. Even dated one. But never, ever have I heard of someone confusing Welsh for Arabic (which is what I assumed she meant). They’re two very different languages from two very different cultures. The only similarity between them is how little I understand them. However, for someone to be so offended by someone speaking another language, they probably also didn’t immerse themselves too much in other cultures.
To her, the world probably began in New York and ended in Los Angeles. It was at this point that my stepmom hung up. “Now, I know that Americans get a bad rap and all,” she said in an obvious British accent. “But it doesn’t help when you actively conform to the stereotype.” “Oh my God,” Karen said with righteous indignation. “Your accent is awful! Where did you even learn to speak English?”
My stepmom held the most deadpan expression she could: “England.” I swear I could smell the smoke coming from the flaming mess inside Karen’s skull. She looked at Charlie and I (a pair of shockingly Caucasian college brats) and then my stepmom (our even paler chaperone), took a moment to process what she was doing, and then walked away, dragging a group of embarrassed looking tweens with her.
I have to give her credit. At least she knew when to quit. My stepmom chuckled, muttered an offensive-sounding Welsh phrase, and then helped us scan the map for the hobby shop. The rest of the day went well, and we had a funny story to tell my dad when we got back. To all the people out there who get offended when someone speaks another language: get over yourselves.
The world doesn’t revolve around you. To all my bilingual friends out there who speak their native tongues: good for you. It’s important to keep your culture alive. And to Karen: next time you try to accost someone for speaking something other than English, at least get the right continent.
44. Mommy’s Little Monster
I was playing on a Minecraft server with five friends at the time this happened. This new kid joined our game and our Skype call. He kept breaking our builds and demanding we give him stuff. We originally decided to ban him, but we wanted to have some fun, so we kept just killing him. The Skype call was basically six guys laughing and a little kid screaming, calling us hackers.
We were talking on Skype when his mother called. “LET MY SON PLAY ON THE SERVER, YOU UNGRATEFUL JERKS.” “No,” we all said at the same time. “MY HUSBAND IS A LAWYER AND HE WILL SUE YOU AND I WILL CALL THE AUTHORITIES FOR HARASSMENT!” “Shut up, lady!” “DON’T YOU TALK TO ME LIKE THAT! MY SON DESERVES ALL YOUR ITEMS MORE THAN ALL OF YOU COMBINED!”
“Screw off, woman!” “YOU ARE NOT ALLOWED TO SWEAR! ONLY ADULTS ARE ALLOWED TO USE THAT KIND OF LANGUAGE!” One of us makes a Christian Minecraft server meme and she gets really angry. “HOW DARE YOU INSULT MY RELIGION! ALRIGHT. WHERE DO YOU LIVE?” We start making up addresses. “THAT’S IT! I’M LEAVING!” “About time.” She left and blocked us. We still joke about that incident.
45. Money Isn’t Everything—But It Helps
I’m 39, successful, and am quite well off. My siblings, sadly, are not. My brother, who is 42, has three children. My sister, 35, also has three, with another one on the way. My youngest sister, who is 28, is married and pregnant, but she had nothing to do with the events of this story. We were all raised to believe that money doesn’t matter and all you need is a happy marriage and lots of kids to live a happy life.
Being poor and having lots of kids was somehow glorified. Maybe because that’s the way our parents lived and wanted to convince themselves that they didn’t screw up. Fortunately for me, I didn’t buy into that nonsense. I always knew I never wanted children. I focused on my career and on achieving success. Today I have my own house, wonderful pets, and a loving boyfriend.
My family, however, seems to think that there’s something wrong with my lifestyle. My parents have often commented that my 5-bedroom house is empty without any kids running around. My siblings often tell me I’m selfish for not having kids and actually enjoying my life. However, their disdain for my “selfish” lifestyle doesn’t stop them from begging for money.
My brother and sister have called me and asked me to help pay their bills. Now, if it’s something serious like clothes or school supplies for their kids, I’m willing to pitch in. But I always refuse when I’m asked to pay for trips to amusement parks, etc. I also paid for my parents to stay in a high-end assisted living facility. They’re my parents, I felt that I owed them this much.
Still, I couldn’t help but feel insulted when they sang praises for my siblings for breeding and following in their footsteps and how they wish I had done the same. As if, among all their kids, I’m the biggest disappointment. For this reason, I’ve distanced myself from them. I only call or visit to check up on them and don’t let them be a part of my life.
The other day, I got a call from my sister asking if she, her husband, my brother, and his wife could come over. I said OK. At this meeting, they made a stunning request. They asked me to leave my fortune to their kids, in equal portions. And if I did, they would stop asking me for financial help. They said this as if they were doing me a favor.
“You don’t have kids, so who are you gonna leave it to?” asked my brother. I told them I was going to leave my money to charities and that I don’t owe them anything. When they went on the “you’re selfish” route, I told them to get lost. The next morning, I got a call from my dad telling me they were disappointed in me. I simply hung up.
The one family member who has stood by me is my youngest sister. She actually has her stuff together and I could not be more proud of her. After the altercation with my siblings, my parents tried a different strategy. They tried to sweet talk me and suddenly their tune had changed from “You’re so selfish” to “Aww! We didn’t mean it. Let’s talk.”
So, after they kept pestering me to have a word with them in person, I invited them over. Now my parents know darn well that chocolate is bad for dogs, but my mom has tried to give them some on many occasions. When I tell her off she always comes back with “but maybe they like it” and “I was just being nice.” This time when they came over, I left them in the living room and went to the kitchen to get some refreshments.
While I was there, one of my dogs came over to greet them. I could see them from the kitchen. My mom petted him for a while, then reached into her purse and pulled out a bar of chocolate. She broke off a piece and was about to give it to him when I stormed over and knocked it out of her hands. My parents looked shocked. I was enraged.
Even after being told repeatedly that chocolate is bad for dogs, they just didn’t get it. When I asked my mom what the heck she was doing, my dad actually started yelling at me and told me I was being rude. I told them either they were complete idiots or they were intentionally trying to hurt my dog because of the recent conversation with my siblings.
I told them I was sick of their lies and that they were on very thin ice with me. When they tried to argue back, I grabbed my dad by the arm and walked him out the door. My mom followed.
46. Bend Over Backwards
This happened about 3-4 years after I moved out of my parents’ house and had been living independently. Then one day, I get this string of texts from my mom. Mom: “Hey, how have you been doing? What are you up to two weeks from now?” Me: “I’ve been doing alright, I’ve started lifting weights and exercising more. I don’t think I’m doing anything too exciting next week. Why you ask?”
Mom: “perfect! Me and <boyfriend> are going on a trip and need you to house sit and watch the dogs for us.” Me: “Sorry, but I can’t just leave for a week.” Mom: “Please, the dogs miss you and I’d really hate to put them in the kennel.” Me: “Sorry but I have a job, I can’t just go missing for a week.” Mom: “Why can’t you drive to work from my house?”
Me: “Because it’s a 2.5hr commute each way.” Mom: “You have vacation days, right? Just use them.” Me: “No.” Mom: “please. I’d feel really bad about putting <dog’s name> in the kennel. You know how much she hates it.” Me: “You obviously don’t feel that bad about doing it.” Then I hear nothing from her until the day before they have their trip.
Mom: “Hey, we’re leaving for our trip today and I was wondering when you were going to be here? I want to show you some things before we leave.” Me: “What part of our last conversation gave you any idea that I agreed to this?” Mom: “That’s very rude of you and no way to speak to your mother. Now, can we expect you here by 5?” And at that point, I just put my phone on silent and stopped talking to her.
47. Age Before Beauty
I was traveling on a train yesterday afternoon, back from seeing some friends. I was basically traveling the entire length of the route with a journey of around nine hours going over 450 miles north, so a long time. I had a reserved seat for the whole journey, with the seat next to me switching from being reserved for some of the journey for an hour or two, then being vacant.
At around hour 6 of my journey, the train was becoming very busy with families going home from day trips out. The next stop saw the person sitting next to me depart, and a woman—who was looking and acting as if the group of scraggy students (like me!) and families with little ones were far beneath her—got on with a woman who looked my age.
They were both looking around for a seat. The older woman saw the space next to me and made a beeline for it, with the other woman in tow. This is the conversation that followed: Older Woman: Hi, I think you’re in my daughter’s seat. Me: Oh, really? I’m pretty sure this is the seat I reserved, doesn’t it say so on the display up top?
Older Woman: No, the screen’s gone off, but these are the seats for me and my daughter, now move. At this, I got out of my seat to look at the screen, which still said it was reserved and quickly sat back down. Me: Nope, it still says it’s my seat. The seat next to me seems free for a while if one of you wants to sit down. Daughter: Why can’t you just move? We’re probably traveling further than you anyway.
Me: Sorry, but I’m really not going to move. Older Woman: [Raising her voice to attract the attention of others] I can’t believe you won’t have the dignity to let me sit next to my child! She can’t just go and sit on her own! Me [to the daughter]: How old are you? Daughter: 23, so probably older than you, you really should do what I say.
I’m 21 and look it. Me: Seriously? I won’t move from my reserved seat, your “child” is 23 and doesn’t need to sit with you! [I was feeling petty and so rose my voice to mimic the mom when saying this] Older Woman: That’s it, we’re getting the staff, I will not be spoken to like this by a child! With that, they both left the carriage, and I didn’t hear anything from any member of staff or anyone else, though a lovely little old lady who was sitting across from me said that she would probably have sworn like a sailor at them if they’d spoken to her like that when they’d gone out of earshot!
The icing on the cake was when the train stopped around half an hour later, I saw them both getting off and walking up the platform—it took everything in me not to give them a little wave as they skulked past!
48. I’m Gonna Sit Right Down And Write Myself A Letter
My father-in-law is a major boundary stomper—so I came up with a disturbing nickname for him. I like to call him “Creepo” for short. He literally thinks that our rules don’t apply to him. And since I recently had a baby, that’s about to become a much bigger problem than it already has been. Not long ago, my sister-in-law moved to a country in Europe to live with a family there as part of a program.
So a few days prior, my husband and I visited our hometown to see her for a very informal goodbye party. This was all on very short notice. At that point, my husband and I had only a few weekends left to spend alone together before the baby came, because of our work schedules. We had been planning on getting seriously caught up with one another during this weekend, since we knew that we were running out of time.
Being informed at the last minute about my sister-in-law leaving the country in the middle of the following week threw a wrench into our plans, but we realized that the appropriate thing to do was to go and spend some time with her and send her off with a nice goodbye. We knew that this was going to be the last time we could see her before she moved away for the year.
The sudden nature of this whole thing was due to a serious lack of planning on my mother-in-law’s part. The whole ordeal had been thrown together kind of haphazardly. And in case you can’t already tell, I was pretty irritated that we had to drop our intimate plans for that weekend. Not because of having to say goodbye to my sister-in-law, though.
I knew that saying goodbye to her was really important to my husband, and it was important to me too to an extent. In fact, I’m really glad that we did make the choice to spend some time with her before she left. I never even gave that part a second thought. No, the reason that I was irritated was that we were not aware that this was going to be happening until literally the morning of
And we had spent literally every single other weekend in our hometown, which is two hours away, leading up to that point since late July because “faaaamily.” So this was going to be our special weekend together, but we had to suddenly change the plans out of nowhere, which fully could have been prevented. The whole thing was just really annoying, that’s all.
But, as a result of this incident, I made it very clear to my husband that from here until the baby is born, we’re done sacrificing our precious alone time because “faaamily.” That was no longer going to be a valid reason to change our plans. We had to get ready for the life we have ahead, and I wanted to enjoy what little time we had left as a twosome.
I said that from now on, someone would have to be seriously hurt or in the process of losing their life for us to give up another weekend together. My husband agreed entirely. So, anyway, we go to visit his family despite being annoyed. When we get there, we’re all sitting in the kitchen and politely talking, when my father-in-law randomly walks in and says to me, “Hey, are you gonna let me have access to your husband some time during October to go to the local shooting contest?”
For context, in a town about an hour away from where the in-laws live, they have an annual show where the biggest attraction is going to watch people shoot from gigantic machines. We live in the south, so it’s a pretty big deal here. It’s not really my husband’s thing, but he’s trying to do his part to better his relationship with his dad.
I look at my husband, who without missing a beat says, “As long as it’s a weekend, I won’t be available.” Creepo looks at me. So I explain that our time together is limited, and that therefore if it’s a weekend we both are off work, then it’s off-limits for the time being. Creepo was not happy, and I think this was the beginning of him treating me differently.
A few days later, we were crib shopping. To make a long story short, Creepo basically forced his way into buying a crib for us even after we declined his offer multiple times. Nevertheless, he just called us up one day and informed us that he had found a version of the crib we wanted secondhand at half the price, and that he had bought it for us.
We then didn’t hear anything about it for several days, until we finally brought it up and asked Creepo what was happening with the crib. He said: “Oh, it’s in the back of my daughter’s car. I’m going to bring it down one day and help you set it up. Then we can finish the nursery and go shopping for more baby stuff.” That’s when I lost it.
I almost started crying right then and there. Setting up the baby’s crib and nursery is something that my husband and I had always talked about doing alone together. It has always been a very special dream to us that we would prepare for the baby together, on our own. My own mom has really been wanting to come help, but understands and respects that we want it to be between me and my husband.
Nevertheless, Creepo continued trying to strong-arm his and wife’s way into the process by holding the crib back and promising us more “gifts” in exchange for letting them help. Keep in mind, by “gifts” he really means extra stuff that we don’t need. And if they get their way but we’ve told my mom no, it’s going to seriously hurt her feelings, aside from angering me to no end.
I reiterated our desire to save that time for me and my husband. Creepo claimed to understand. Later on, I heard my mother-in-law still talking about coming to help set up the nursery. She had just gotten home, so I explained to her that we were going to reserve our remaining weekends alone and why. I told her twice, right in front of Creepo.
Then, as we were leaving about ten minutes later, Creepo started talking again—and I couldn’t believe what he said. He told me: “Let us know what day works for you for us to come down. We can help get things set up and then go shopping for baby stuff.” Umm, what the heck had I already explained to you four times that day?! I calmly explained it one more time.
I remind him that, as expressed earlier, we really want to keep as much of that time as possible between me and my husband. He wasn’t listening. He wasn’t even doing a serious job of pretending to listen. My husband goes over to talk to him in private. He decides that he’s going to invite them to see the nursery one weekend that I’m working, but he explains that we want to set the crib up together on our own at a separate time.
Once again, he reiterates that they can bring the crib down, but will not be helping with the setup of the nursery or crib at all. We did not leave the encounter with very high confidence that this boundary would be respected. My mother-in-law then started asking questions about the registry—i.e., fishing for more items that they could buy us to show everyone else at the baby shower up next week, even though they already bought us the crib.
Out of nowhere, Creepo then brought up video baby monitors. My husband mentioned that they were not always safe, as some connect to Wi-Fi and could be easily hacked into. So, without missing a beat, Creepo responds: “You mean I could check in on my grandbaby any time I want to?!?” I must have looked terrified, because he immediately tried to laugh it off as a joke.
Then, surprisingly, my mother-in-law said very sarcastically, after a brief silence, “Yeah, that’s not weird at all…” Creepo also looooves to buy us junk. Seriously. He thinks it makes himself seem important or some such nonsense. He often finds random junk at yard sales and thrift stores that he thinks my husband just has to have, and he makes the whole thing into this dramatic show of affection whenever he gives it to him.
We had told him more than a few times that we were trying to get rid of things before the baby arrived, so we really didn’t want him to buy us anything else. That request obviously went unheeded. A few nights later, we received a sled (“for my grandbaby!”), a glue machine (“one of those that can melt plastic, yours is nicer than mine!”), and a bunch of tools that he had apparently intended to have gifted to my husband months ago, but we never were given them.
These tools included an ax. How did everything but the sled make it home with us? Creepo had literally hidden all of the items in the backseat of my husband’s car without telling him. I found it all as we were leaving, and made my husband at least leave the sled there. Creepo briefly argued about this, but eventually did reluctantly concede.
We were going to have a serious sit-down conversation with him about materialism and not buying things for us or the baby without coordinating with us first. We were very hopeful about the results that it would yield, and were prepared to give it our all. But then something else happened that completely changed our plans of how to deal with this guy.
He licked my daughter. Now, I haven’t really mentioned this yet, but it probably won’t be surprising to you after some of the things you’ve already read about him. Creepo is one of those dudes that just gives you a really weird vibe when you talk to him. Like, the kind of guy you see and just know that you don’t want to be touched by him or alone with him.
I instinctively recoil any time that he hugs me or tries to put his hand on my shoulder. He was very inappropriate with my husband when he was a young child, has a thing for 18-year-old girls. We have lots of instances of him being creepy in general, but he’s a typical Married Christian Man and in a professional career, so he’s totally normal and it’s all innocent as far as the rest of the world is concerned.
Here’s how the licking incident went down. My mother-in-law’s parents were in town from a state far away. They rarely get to see our newborn daughter, so we were visiting them at the in-laws’ house. When we arrived, my husband was holding our daughter and everyone was fawning over her. The kitchen was full of cousins, siblings, grandparents, etc.
My mother-in-law was doing her annoying baby voice as close to my daughter’s face as she could, and Creepo shoved his way in between his wife and my daughter. He squeaked in this super high-pitched baby voice, “Hi, baby!” And he freaking licked her hand. Not even like a “normal” lick (as if there’s a normal way to lick your granddaughter??). He flicked his tongue over her hand.
You know the highly inappropriate and immature hand gesture where you flick your tongue between your fingers? That’s how he licked her hand. My husband instantly recoiled with a horrified look, and I immediately perked up. Me: “Don’t lick her.” My husband (pulling farther away as Creepo continues to be in her face): “Yeah, for a lot of reasons.”
My mother-in-law (She didn’t hear what I said): “What?” Me: “I said, don’t lick her.” My mother-in-law (looking repulsed): “You licked her? Why in the world would you lick her?” Creepo: “Oh, not really, it wasn’t…” He trailed off because he didn’t have anything to justify how freaking creepy he was being. My mother-in-law looked over at me.
I nodded and made a face that indicated, “Yes, he really did.” Creepo then slipped out of the room. Everything kind of resumed after that. I kept a close eye on everything Creepo did when he was near my daughter. We don’t let him hold her unless I’m right there. Even then, probably not. Unfortunately, my sister doesn’t know that we limit any kind of contact between my daughter and Creepo, so she passed my daughter off to him when I was out of the room.
When I found out, I went looking for them. He had her in the backyard, even though everyone was inside the house. He was just walking around with her and whispering in her ear. It was as creepy as you can possibly imagine. My husband took her and brought her inside, and she didn’t leave my sight at all for the rest of the night.
My husband and I had previously agreed not to let Creepo hold her if we could help it, and he definitely would not have unsupervised time with her. Now, no one is going to get unsupervised time with her with the in-laws, except the sister-in-laws. They know that he’s as creepy as heck, and they help us keep him away from the baby.
Creepo is never holding her again as far as I can help it. If he asks why, I will gladly say that it’s because he freaking licked my baby when she was nine months old. I’m still absolutely disgusted by that. After that incident, we think that he apparently started to sense that something was up and that we were actively trying to keep him away from the baby.
A few weeks later, my parents had us and my in-laws over for the Labor Day weekend. Creepo held my daughter one time while I watched very closely. Maybe even angrily, as my mom passed her off. She doesn’t know the deal, though, so I can’t be mad at her. My mom insisted on doing bath time with the baby in the kitchen sink, and Creepo tried to watch. I carefully blocked his view with my body and made sure that he saw nothing.
So basically, Creepo is fully aware that we don’t want him near our kid, but that doesn’t stop him from trying. Thankfully, he hasn’t tried too hard to hold or touch her the last couple of times we’ve seen him—but the ordeal isn’t over yet. Creepo texted my husband out of the blue and said, “I’m in your city for a meeting. I will come to your apartment after it’s done.”
Excuse me? No warning, no invitation from us, yet you think you’re just welcome to pop on by whenever you want? My husband responded by saying that we were planning to be in his town soon and that we would just meet him then. No response, but we knew he had read the message. After two hours, we still hadn’t heard anything back.
We were in the process of getting dressed and ready to leave, but were getting food when the doorbell rang. I turned around and angrily whispered to my husband, “I told you he’d show up!” I grabbed my daughter from her walker and we went upstairs while my husband opened the door. My husband told Creepo that we were getting ready to go to town and that he had texted him earlier and knew he’d seen it.
“You’re going out of town?” says Creepo. My husband says, “No, we said we had errands to run and would visit you soon.” Creepo makes up some excuse about how he must have opened the message but he didn’t read it, blah blah blah. We agreed to meet him downtown for dinner. Once my husband and I were ready to leave, I brought my daughter downstairs.
Creepo was standing there in the lobby waiting for us. “Oh, hi Creepo. I thought we said we’d meet you in town?” The passive aggression may have been dripping from my voice. “We had some miscommunication, apparently,” he replied. “Apparently,” said my husband. I kept my daughter with me at all times and continued getting her snacks and water ready for the outing.
I kept my responses very short and matter of fact while we decided where to eat. Then I whisked past Creepo and buckled my daughter into her car seat. Thankfully, he drove separately. He’s an awful driver and I’m not exaggerating when I say that he nearly caused three wrecks on the way. Always because he weaves in and out of traffic without a turn signal, and only sometimes bothers to check his mirrors.
We got to the restaurant and brought my daughter inside in the car seat carrier. We never unbuckled her, which seemed to be a good choice. The weirdest he got with her was tickling her feet and up her leg, then tickling her thigh right under the cuff of her shorts. He stopped right as I opened my mouth to tell him to, and didn’t try touching her again.
The whole meal was kind of tense and awkward. He knew we didn’t want to be around him. He kept talking about wanting to buy us things or give us money “because I love you guys” and “I remember how hard it is just starting out.” We’ve lived on our own for eight years at this point and have been doing really well for ourselves.
He mentioned how we have my sister-in-law babysitting for us one day a week for this month and told us he has “three months of paid vacation saved up, so if there’s ever an emergency and you need me to help out…” I cut him off right there. “Thankfully our jobs are flexible and we could take care of any emergency.” Of course, he was “just saying if you ever need me…in an emergency…”
We basically just gray rocked it from then on. My husband later said, “Him watching her alone would be an emergency.” We finished eating and my husband said that we needed to go run errands now. We thanked him for the meal, which he insisted on paying for, and then we left. He said, “I love you guys so much,” and my husband replied with a cheerful, “Yeah! Drive safe!”
Creepo was supposed to be back in town a few days later for the same activity, but my husband and I agreed on radio silence as the only appropriate course of action towards him. No texts or responses, and we wouldn’t answer the door except to tell him to leave if he showed up unannounced. I told my husband, who agrees, that he’s neither invited nor welcome in our house any longer. But still, he’s crept back into our lives.
Despite our lack of responses, Creepo has been texting us non-stop ever since his last visit. I’m sure soon we’ll have to have conversations with my family about what’s going on. My husband’s sisters are very well aware and behind us on everything. My sister already knows and my parents are definitely suspicious. The plan, for now, is to find a therapist to help us determine the best plan of action for working through the issues. I have a couple I’m going to call this week.
In the midst of all this, we were just enjoying a lazy Sunday with our daughter and watching Lord of the Rings, which I had never seen. I know, I know, we’re fixing that. By this point, Creepo’s daily texts had gotten significantly weirder. They started off as guilt-trippy: “I love you so much, I’m sorry about the licking! Tell me I’m good!” type things.
Then, he started sending us random memes, with random “How are you doing??” texts sprinkled in. He also sent a daily “I love you” text, as well as some random stuff about a few of my husband’s various interests. My husband didn’t reply to any of it at any point. So this continued to go on for about a month. Finally, my husband and I decided that we needed to sit down with a counselor and get an action plan together. This could not continue to go unaddressed.
The therapist is hoping, as am I, that my husband and I will be able to start to do some individual trauma therapy. He knows he needs it, but he wants to get through this “crisis” portion first, which the therapist is also in agreement with. Our first session went well. My husband got a whole lot out in the open and we decided that we would compose a text message to Creepo and his wife together to send.
So we did that the following day. My husband and I sat down and spent a good long while deciding exactly what to say. We slept on it, and finally sent it out the next day. We were pretty to the point with it. We made note of the fact that while they had messaged us repeatedly, neither of them had ever asked what was wrong, despite the fact that there are clearly problems.
We said that due to the previous issues we have had, Creepo is no longer allowed to hold our daughter. We told them that we were setting boundaries that they would need to respect, including no touching us, no constant messages or calls, no showing up uninvited, etc. About 45 minutes after we sent this message, Creepo replied with, “I love you.”
We also got a reply from my mother-in-law four hours later, basically ignoring anything we said about Creepo or boundaries and attempting to be diplomatic and act like they’d been “giving us our space.” We didn’t hear from either of them for a while after that. My husband and I didn’t, at least. Apparently, based on what we’ve been told, my mother-in-law spent the whole day we sent the text message walking around crying and trying to ask my sister-in-law what was wrong, who just ignored her.
Creepo finally made his next move a few days later. We heard about it when one of my sister-in-laws texted my husband. Apparently, Creepo had been texting her over and over again trying to get information about what was going on with us. You know, instead of asking me or my husband any questions directly or trying to clarify anything.
My sister-in-law hasn’t given them any information, so in a weird attempt to get her to talk, my father-in-law made his most terrifying claim yet. Creepo has said that he has gotten a copy of all her text messages from her phone provider and read through them, so he already knows everything. Excuse me while I explode from laughter! First of all, the only way to get text messages from their carrier like that is with a warrant.
Second of all, if he knew everything, he wouldn’t be continuing to press her for information. So either he was thinking my sister-in-law would fall for this ridiculous bluff and spill her guts out to him, or there’s the remote possibility that he has installed some sort of keylogger or app on her phone to spy on her with. She attends a boarding school, so she’s not at home for him to be able to sort through her messages the old-fashioned way.
So what we’ve gathered is that instead of actually wanting to figure out “what’s going on,” even though we’ve laid it out pretty darn clearly, they’re trying to drill my husband’s siblings for information and trying to keep them from talking to him with this threat of “we know everything you’re saying, so you might as well talk openly to me about it.”
For a while, we didn’t say another word to Creepo or my mother-in-law after sending that initial text message. They were not asking us questions or requesting information in any way, so there was no need for us to contact them. When we held a party for our daughter, our therapist recommended inviting the in-laws but reiterating our boundaries to them a few days before the event.
If I have ever been as angry in my life as I was after what happened next, it’s been a heck of a long time. I’m having a hard time staying focused enough to write this next part, but I need to get it out. When Creepo came to the party, things got ugly very fast. We played nice leading up to the event, because we wanted to see my husband’s siblings and extended family and didn’t want to have any further issues.
But we made clear to my husband’s parents that if they did not respect our boundaries, then we would not be talking to them. It’s important to note that when my husband was in college, he liked to smoke weed pretty regularly. Now that his older sister is in college and his younger sister is in high school at a boarding school, they’ve both had some experiences with it as well.
My husband and I are pro-legalization and don’t care to discuss the specifics with people as the topic comes up, but we do not live in a state where its usage is permitted. Neither for medicinal or recreational purposes. We don’t keep it in the house, and I don’t smoke, but my husband will from time to time on the rare occasion that he’s out with friends who are doing it.
So, onto why I’m seething. Maybe some of you can already see where this is going. The night after the party, my mother-in-law and Creepo apparently hated seeing that we were still on good terms with my husband’s siblings, so they started trying to badmouth us to them. As she was getting ready to come to our place, Creepo comes up to the younger sister-in-law.
Creepo: “You know your brother thinks he knows a lot, right?” My sister-in-law did not know how to react. Creepo: “He thinks it’s okay to smoke weed. He doesn’t see anything wrong with it. So if you go over there and he offers you any, you’d better tell me.” Again, my sister-in-law was dumbfounded and didn’t know how to react or what to say.
But the most disturbing part was yet to come. Creepo continued and said: “Because it’s very dangerous and we’d have to take that baby away from them if they were using substances like that.” Are you freaking kidding me? I can’t remember a time in my entire life when I’ve ever been so angry that I was shaking uncontrollably, but that night I was. I saw red. How dare he threaten my child!
How dare he, the man that inappropriately touched my husband as a young child, the man that licked and inappropriately touched my infant child now, threaten to take my child away from me because my husband used to enjoy weed on occasion and because of the fairly moderate political views that he happens to hold. How. Freaking. Dare. He.
At that point, any remaining doubt I had about my relationship with this man was gone forever. I knew that I was absolutely done with him, and he could not be redeemed. I swore that I would never speak to Creepo or my mother-in-law again. I swore that neither one of them would ever get to see my daughter again until she is fully grown and old enough to make that decision for herself.
This incident also sparked another fear. It made me start to worry that they might have been planning something. Like they were looking for any excuse to call Child Protective Services on us, or that they were planning to file for some kind of grandparents’ rights against us. Or maybe both. So now, at that point, I was incredibly angry, and I couldn’t help but be scared. We had no reason to worry: there were no substances in our house. We never even so much as threatened to spank our daughter. We have a well-stocked fridge and pantry. Our house is “lived-in” but clean.
Anything dangerous is well out of our daughter’s reach. She’s up to date on all doctor’s visits and shots. She has plenty of clean clothes, plenty of diapers, and is absolutely spoiled rotten with toys. Plus, she’s a wonderful, happy kid. She walks around singing, she adores me and my husband, and she’s incredibly smart and observant. It’s obvious that this child is well taken care of.
But he had threatened my child and he is an attorney. And we could not currently afford an attorney by any stretch of the imagination, should he have decided to pursue any type of court action. I was at a complete loss about what to do. Do we just keep going like we were beforehand, send a letter detailing our issues, and basically say, “You’re out of our lives. See ya, bye!”?
Would it be worth calling Child Protective Services preemptively ourselves to do a home visit and have it documented that our daughter is obviously well-taken care of, to protect us in the event that they make some kind of bogus report in the future? Or is that just overreacting and possibly inviting unnecessary and unwanted attention?
Do we truly have anything serious to worry about here other than this blatant crossing of a giant red line? These are all the questions that we couldn’t stop asking ourselves. As you can imagine, we were being tormented by this veiled threat that Creepo had made. He knew what he was doing, and there was no way either one of us could ever respect him again.
You don’t get to take advantage of my husband for years, try to groom my daughter to accept the same treatment, and then turn around and threaten to have her taken away because you’re annoyed that we called you out on your totally inappropriate and unacceptable behavior. If my Mama Bear instinct wasn’t out before, it was certainly bearing its teeth by this point.
After days of going back and forth about what to do about this, we finally emailed our no-contact letter to his parents. It was written by my husband and detailed all of the terrible behaviors that he went through as a child and how Creepo behaved with our daughter, and that neither of them will get a chance to hurt our children the same way they hurt him back in the day.
Did y’all catch that? I said children. As in plural. As in…. we’re expecting number two this winter!! We are very excited and can’t wait to have all of this drama with Creepo and his wife behind us so that we can move on and enjoy our new family member very soon! Yeah, I’m not that naive. I know an extinction burst is coming, but this letter means it’s closer to being behind us, too.
We decided not to tell Creepo and his wife about the new baby at all, but I’m sure they’ll find out eventually. Our families live in a very small, very gossipy town. We’re also moving soon, and of course, we’re not giving our new address to the in-laws. I’m wondering if that’s going to have any negative issues for whoever lives here after us, but we’ll see what happens.
Anyway, since we sent the letter, Creepo and his wife have continued to be their usual weird selves. My husband’s sisters both still live at home and keep us in the loop, though their mother has been trying to control any and all of their communication. The in-laws have basically been walking around, moping and randomly faux apologizing to them about how “I never isolated you as kids,” or “I’m sorry if you didn’t like it when I held you down and tickled you and you repeatedly told me to stop,” or “I’m sorry I was such a bad parent.”
As in: Tell me I’m good. Tell me I’m good. Ad nauseum. Now, my husband also has family that lives outside of the country, but they come to our hometown to visit every so often. They had never met our daughter, and we were on perfectly good terms with them, so we tried to make plans when they were in town recently. We were having trouble syncing up our schedules.
Then, when we finally made plans with them, we made a chilling discovery. We were informed by the sister-in-laws that Creepo and his wife were camping out all day at the house where we had been invited to join them. Apparently, they were insisting on one of them going with anyone who left that might run into us, and the other staying behind to try and catch us.
They tried really hard to get us to walk into a trap. Since we were aware of this plan, we declined to play into it. I actually told the visiting relatives that we knew that my husband’s parents were there and that we weren’t comfortable coming over, so we’d make other plans another day. The next day, we made other arrangements to see them for lunch.
We fully expected to see Creepo and his wife there, waiting to ambush us. Just in case that happened, we brought multiple printed copies along with us of the letter that my husband had written to them, so that the cousins would be fully aware of what the issue was exactly. We felt this was necessary, since these cousins seem to think we all just need to get together and “resolve this problem.”
They also seem to think that we’re simply mad that Creepo offered us money, not that he inappropriately touched my husband and then tried to groom our daughter into accepting the same behavior. So we’re ready, willing, and able to set them straight if they had been planning something. Thankfully, when the lunch visit finally happened, Creepo and his wife weren’t there.
It went great! We really enjoyed catching up with everyone. Our daughter absolutely LOVED playing with her cousins, and we got to share the news about little one number two. It was overall quite a positive experience. Then, at the end of the get-together, one of the cousins came over to warn us that Creepo and his wife suddenly texted that they were on their way over for a surprise visit.
My husband and I decided that we weren’t leaving on their terms, so we planned to just ignore them when they arrived. By the way, it’s very important that I note here that my husband and I never gave any specific details to any family members except his siblings. Some had asked what this was all about, and we told them that there were things we preferred to keep private.
The visiting cousins knew that there was tension, but Creepo and his wife were saying that we were mad they offered us money. No one heard any details from us at all. I never so much as looked at Creepo the entire time we were there together, and neither did my husband. This, despite the fact that Creepo intentionally sat across the room and pointedly stared at him the whole time, trying to get his attention.
My mother-in-law followed me and my husband from room to room and kept trying to make conversation, but both of the cousins were tagging along so she was easy to ignore. My daughter was exhausted at this point, Like, wailing because someone moved a blanket off of the floor that she was nowhere near. She started asking for “home.” So we said our goodbyes, and completely ignored Creepo and my mother-in-law.
And they finally accepted responsibility, hung their heads in shame, and never brought it up again. Hahahahahah. Yeah, freaking right! We were literally not even a quarter of the way home yet when we got a call from one of my sister-in-laws. Apparently, as soon as we left, Creepo, his wife, the cousins, and a few other relatives in the area all stowed away in a room to talk about the “unpleasantness.”
Creepo was basically trying to explain why the letter we sent was all wrong or a misunderstanding. We weren’t sure if he was just describing it or what, but we knew that he and my mother-in-law were trying to “get ahead of” all of it. We considered turning around and just having it out with them once and for all, but my husband said to just let them talk smack if they wanted to, as he was confident that we were in the right.
My husband decided that from this point on, if anyone asked what the letter had been about, then he would willingly tell the details, so Creepo and his wife could set the record straight for themselves if they so wished. We decided that if he was going to refute everything my husband said, then we would set the record straight for ourselves the next day by sending out a similar letter to all involved parties.
So we got home and got another call from the sister-in-laws. They were panicking and afraid to go home that night. They still live with Creepo and their mother, and will be living with them at least until the fall. Apparently, Creepo was very intoxicated and not speaking to them, only glaring at them incredibly angrily. We’d later come to find out that Creepo had forwarded the letter to all of the adults present and tried to go through it line by line to explain how it was “wrong” and just a “misunderstanding.”
I repeat, this man sent everyone the complete, exact letter that my husband had sent him. Which is very explicit and straightforward, and outlines the details of all the terrible things that he had done over the years. He and his wife went into this conversation half-cocked, prepared to do damage control. Our best guess is that they thought we had already shared all of the details with everyone and they’d have to save face.
Except we hadn’t said a word, just had a nice day with the family we never see. So they basically went in and spread all of the gory details themselves. Completely unprovoked. In my husband’s very eloquent and well thought out words. Like seriously, he spent months drafting this letter, spending hours at a time tweaking every last word until he felt it was perfect.
The visiting cousins tried to privately ask the sister-in-laws if they believed the allegations. The sisters confirmed that they did, and then Creepo and his wife swept in to eavesdrop and control the conversation. The sisters told us they think that the cousins now fully believe my husband’s letter. The sisters left the room and are now headed back to stay the night with their grandparents and not at home.
They are seriously worried about what Creepo might do in his intoxicated state. They fear he could direct his anger at them, and I wouldn’t exactly put it past him. Though I also don’t think he would immediately resort to something like that. So, yeah. Basically, Creepo and his wife walked in assuming we’d told everyone all the dirty details, so they thought they’d get ahead of it and refute it all.
Of course, we hadn’t told anyone anything, so they really shot themselves in the foot by sharing my husband’s personal account in his exact words and his complete take on the entire situation. Saved us from having to refute all of their lies after the fact. I’m sure we’ll get more updates in the future, but for the time being, we are hoping this was finally the last straw in this seemingly never-ending saga.
We’re also telling the sisters to keep us posted on whatever happens, because we are worried about them.
49. A Night On The Town
This is a story about a time when my dad was an entitled parent. It’s kinda long and detailed. If you’ve ever heard the song “Started From the Bottom” by Drake, you should know that my dad is a living testament to it. He grew up very poor and in a bad neighborhood, but despite all the odds he was able to graduate high school, join the armed forces, get his Bachelor’s degree, retire as a Captain, and hold a number of high-paying management positions over the years.
Because of these experiences, he’s a firm believer in the principle of hard work, and he taught my sister and me to be respectful of others because we may end up walking through similar streets someday. But he goes overboard. Paradoxically, my dad is also one of those annoying individuals who talks down to people that aren’t as accomplished as himself.
He’s really good at belittling others on the sly. He also likes to believe that he is always the smartest person in the room and that nobody except himself offers anything of substance. But sure enough, he gets on our case if we say something negative about someone else. Every single day, when he got home from work, he’d always tell stories of how he got to fire people or humiliate them.
At first, I thought the stories were funny and perfectly just. But over time, they started sounding more and more jerk-y, as if he was boasting about getting to mess with people’s lives. I honestly felt uncomfortable going out with him because he always gave people a hard time. Didn’t have the exact items he wanted? He’ll talk to your manager.
Things take longer than expected? You get an earful. Any mild inconvenience? Everyone is charged with a capital offense. He basically walked and talked as if the world owed him every single thing that he wanted. One day, he pushed things too far. My family and I went out to eat at an IHOP on a Friday night. For the sake of the story, let’s pretend my name is “Slim.”
I’m still in my work uniform when we go out. It had been a good day at work, which is kind of an important detail. When we get in, the hostess says it would be about a 15 to 20 minute wait. My family is cool with it, and I’m cool with it. Not even ten minutes later, my dad tells the hostess that we’ve been waiting for 20 minutes and he demanded to know what was taking so long.
Seriously, Dad? You don’t see the 30 other families packed into the restaurant’s waiting area? Do you not hear the noise? I didn’t say anything, but my sister and I gave each other the knowing look. That “Dad’s about to start on that nonsense again” look. The hostess, obviously having an already difficult night, maintains her customer service smile and tells him that it shouldn’t be much longer from now and will let us know immediately.
He stands against the wall. Five minutes later, a family pays for their meal and leaves, and we are directed to a table. My dad tells the server he doesn’t want to sit at that particular table, and asks for a booth on the other side. The hostess hesitates for a moment before telling him that the server responsible for that section has a huge party, and that we may get a delay in service if we sit there.
My dad tells her to put us there anyway. I notice a young man flying back and forth to the kitchen and his tables in our row. I assumed this was our server. Sure enough, this man comes over, introduces himself, and takes our drink orders. Eight minutes later, we haven’t gotten our drinks. My dad flags him down and asks why our drinks haven’t come.
Slightly reasonable, I say. The server apologizes and gets our drinks. He returns, only to give us the wrong drinks. No big deal, honest mistake right? Nope, my dad is angry and sharply tells him to go re-do our drinks. The server asks what they were supposed to be once more. I can see he’s a bit overwhelmed, and so I just politely tell him what I wanted. That’s when my dad began to lose it.
My dad tells him to write it down since he’s “too slow to remember.” Everyone looked at him in horror. Even the server was taken aback by this comment. This didn’t seem to faze my dad, though. He returns with the drinks and takes our orders. My dad again tells him to write it down. My family is embarrassed and tries to lessen the hostility in any way possible.
After the server leaves, my mom and sister berate my dad, telling him he’s embarrassing us. Of course, my dad doubles down telling us “the customer is always right.” Some time passes and our food hasn’t arrived. I see the server is running back and forth to the massive party in the neighboring room. I think there were about 20 people in there, plus the three other families that he had to attend to in his section.
To make sure he wasn’t leaving the rest of us out, he asked a fellow server to see if we wanted refills and the like. The following interaction occurred. Fellow Server: “Hey, I’m Fellow Server. Just checking to make sure you’re all taken care of here. Can I get y’all any refills?” Dad: “Where’s our original server? Why couldn’t he come do this himself?
Me, in my head: Again, are you freaking blind?? Fellow Server: “He’s currently bringing out food and drink orders to another party. I will assist him for the time being.” Dad: “That’s disrespectful! Why are they getting their food first? We’ve been waiting for ten minutes for our food. Where is it??” Fellow Server: “Uhhhmm, I can go find out real quick. Give me a moment, sir.”
Dad: “Hurry up!” Fellow Server raises an eyebrow and leaves. Me: “Dad, chill out. It’s clearly a busy night for them.” Dad: “Don’t back-sauce me, Slim. You don’t want to start with me.” A few minutes pass, and our original server comes back with our food and apologizes for the wait. Original Server: “Hey everyone, I apologize for that wait. Taking care of a massive party, haha.”
Dad: “That’s no excuse. We’ve been waiting!” Mom: *nudges Dad* “Hunny, stop.” Original Sever: “Terribly sorry about that sir, really.” Our original server starts handing out the food. Dad: “Are you kidding me right now? My food is cold! We’ve been waiting ten minutes for our food to come. How long has our food been sitting out?
It should be noted that my dad ordered something that really didn’t need to be served warm. Also, he only touched the plate. Original Server: “I… I don’t think it’s been out too long, sir. We have a heating lamp that…” Dad: “Are you sweating?” Original Server: “Sir?” Dad: “You’re sweating everywhere!” Original Server: “I’ve been running back and forth. Not to mention the kitchen is hot.”
Dad: “I don’t want to hear excuses! You’re sweaty, and you’re getting it all over my food! Get me your manager, NOW!” Our jaws hit the floor. Our original server quietly goes for his manager. My dad, all angry-faced, starts talking about the “terrible” service and our “lazy, disgusting, and unprofessional” server. Some people are looking over at us.
My mom and sister looked like they wanted the earth to swallow them up. Meanwhile, I’m just boiling on the inside. Our original server comes back with the store manager. Store Manager: “Hello everyone, is everything okay?” My dad proceeds to lay into the service and the server. Dad: “I have a number of things to say. Tonight I have had the worst service ever.”
Off to a great start! He continued: “My family and I have waited on drinks and they came out wrong. Our server gets another server to do HIS JOB for him because he’s too lazy to do it himself. When we get our food, our food is cold. Apparently, we weren’t a priority for him. On top of that, he’s sweating in our food! That server has been a lazy, good-for-nothing, incompetent server the entire night and I’ve had it with him! I want our meals comped and this server needs to be fired!”
Store Manager: *wide-eyed* “Oh goodness… sorry about the trouble sir…” Our original server is standing next to the store manager throughout all of this, and he looks absolutely floored. He looked like he wanted to shed a tear. Store Manager: “Here. I’ll take care of your meal, and here are some 30% off coupons.” But before he could continue with his offer, I decided that I had to do something. So, I cut him off.
Me (standing up): “You know what, before all that, I need to say something.” Me to Dad (paraphrasing): “I got to say, I’m impressed with how far you’re willing to go to be an absolute mega jerk at everyone’s expense. This entire night, and every other time we go out in public, whether it’s to eat or buy groceries, you make it your life’s mission to make everyone extremely uncomfortable.”
That got everyone’s attention. I continued: “What is it that makes you feel like you can do this? Is it the money you make? What about all that hot garbage you talk about humility and being respectful to everyone because we might end up walking similar streets? Oh, it only applies to US, while you contradict everything you say? You’re absolutely disgraceful! How dare you embarrass yourself and your family with your abhorrent behavior!”
Dad: “Are you cussing at me?” But I couldn’t stop there. Me: “Shut up, I’m talking now! We’ve heard your voice all darn night. Lord knows I earned the right to speak! You see this uniform? You know I work at a restaurant too. You even told me to be careful when it comes to pretentious people. Yet here you are, behaving like one of them! This man has been running around doing his absolute best trying to make sure everyone is taken care of.
“He even recruited another server in order to make sure we were good and looked after. But if you’d take your head out your own behind, you’d understand that. But no. We didn’t even wait long for our food. You’re acting like we’re the only people in the packed restaurant, and everyone’s watching you be a jerk about it! Yes, the man is sweating, but none of that sweat touched the food, as he brought it on a tray AWAY FROM HIS BODY!”
“We are sick and tired of you acting like a snobby arrogant idiot every time we go out somewhere. You’re not impressing anybody and no one wants to be seen with you!” I then did something that I kinda regret after my anger subsided. Me (at the peak of my anger): “And your food… *pushes plate into his lap* …DIDN’T EVEN NEED TO BE WARMED UP, IT’S A FREAKING SALAD!”
At this moment, I snap out of it. I realize that the entire restaurant has gone quiet. The manager, the server, and everyone around us is looking at me, absolutely stunned. The big party was all eyes. My mom and sister looked like they turned to stone. My dad’s expression is something that has now been forever etched into my mind.
I was 6’2” tall at the time and was really non-confrontational and soft-spoken. So for me to get as loud and imposing as I had was an unfamiliar sight for my folks to see. My dad, with the plate of salad dumped in his lap, looked like he wanted to beat my behind, poop bricks, and crawl under the table all at once. It was unforgettable.
I wanted to drive my point home, so I dug into my wallet and pulled out $120 from the tips I had earned at work that night. I handed half of it to the store manager and told him not to comp the meal and that it was on me. The other half, I gave to the original server and apologized for causing trouble. I looked at my family and told them I had lost my appetite and that I’ll be waiting in the car.
The restaurant was murmuring when I left, and I sat in the car trying to process what the heck I had just done. But what happened next was the most surprising part of all. We didn’t talk about it afterward, but this event seemed to have clicked something in my dad’s head, as I never again heard him give people unwarranted trouble again. So yea, my dad was a flaming entitled jerk, but then I put him in his place and he changed his ways.
And everyone clapped (just kidding). To end this, I wanted to add a proverb of sorts from the Netherlands. “A customer is king as long as they behave in a royal fashion.”
50. Drinking The Night Away
My obnoxious father-in-law randomly decided to ask my husband if I had a drinking problem…because I had two glasses of something very light at dinner when he was here visiting and I had work the next morning. I know, I know, the horror!! Maybe be concerned if you saw me more than once every few years and I had a true problem or if I was harming myself or other people by driving a vehicle afterward?
But I’m a 32-year-old ADULT having a casual drink at my own darn dinner table. I’m gonna enjoy my weekday drink and go to work the next morning completely unphased, because two glasses of something very light doesn’t even get me at all tipsy. It’s especially unfortunate, too, because this was the first time that we saw him in almost two years after an awful trip, and I was actually trying my hardest to give him a second chance.
But nope. He really is a piece of trash human.
51. Doctor’s Orders
Background: I’m 20 weeks pregnant, for starters. This past Friday, I went to the ER because I swell up horribly, and when I’m laying down I can’t breathe. They don’t know what is wrong with me, but they put me on bed rest for a week. And I’m now only allowed to lift 15 pounds for the rest of my pregnancy. This is where the real story begins.
I was sitting in the kitchen with my sister-in-law, waiting for my mother-in-law to finish changing so that I could take them to the tanning bed. I’m just sitting in the lobby reading while I wait on them, and out of nowhere my father-in-law starts attacking us about how we’re lazy and how we never do anything. I cut him off because I can’t do anything right now.
I tell him I’m on bed rest for the next week, and start struggling to breathe after the second sentence. I then tell him that I can’t lift anything heavier than 15 pounds for the rest of my pregnancy. He completely ignores the first part, and says there are plenty of things I can do aside from lifting heavy stuff. My sister-in-law and I both tell him that I’m on bed rest.
He then starts tearing into my sister-in-law, because she’s allegedly lazy too. My sister-in-law has asthma, they won’t fix the air conditioner, and she’s been sick with food poisoning for the last three days. She has been babysitting one of her parents’ coworkers’ kids every single day aside from that. She also does everything they ask of her. Her younger 14-year-old brother never gets called lazy or gets asked to do anything by them.
He lays in bed all day, sleeping and playing video games. When my father-in-law is done with his attacks on her, he jumps back onto me. So, I just walk out, telling him I’m following my doctor’s advice so that my baby will be born alive.
52. Trick Or Treat
This is gonna be short and bitter, but I just need to rant and thought that some of y’all out there might find this story interesting. So my husband and I flew to Florida for a short vacation and to see my step-son who had just moved down here a couple of months ago. Since my husband’s mom also lives here and my husband’s birthday coincided with the visit, I decided that it might be nice if I treated the four of us and my mother-in-law’s long-term boyfriend out to a pretty fancy and not cheap dinner to celebrate the occasion.
We had a lovely dinner, successfully embarrassing my husband with a special birthday dessert complete with singing and all. When we were all finished, I clearly paid the check, as I had promised to do. I did this despite my step-son trying to give me a $100 bill toward paying the check, which I appreciatively but absolutely rejected. I was very touched by the gesture, but more mention it because the exchange was not subtle. It was witnessed by everyone, so it was abundantly clear that I was the one paying the check and treating everyone to this lovely celebratory dinner.
My husband then excused himself to go to the bathroom and we all started getting ready to leave the table, too. Just then, my mother-in-law’s boyfriend says “Thank you guys!” Wait, guys?? Who does he mean by “guys”? My husband wasn’t even present at this point, and I had obviously paid for everything myself. Guys? Okay, whatever. Don’t be so sensitive, right? But then, he dug in deeper.
We go to get our cars and as we are waiting for the valet to bring them around, my mother-in-law’s boyfriend goes over to my husband and thanks him directly, with a warm handshake, for buying him dinner! My husband tries to tell him that it was all me, and that he didn’t have anything to do with it, but the boyfriend starts arguing: Oh, well yeah, but he knows it was really my husband and he appreciated it!!
What in the heck? I was standing right behind them, clearly hearing every word they were both saying. He didn’t say another word about it to me directly, even when my husband corrected him again, and even when I hugged him goodbye. I know I should get over it, but I’m just annoyed and offended and insulted and feeling affronted on behalf of all women, and I’m hoping this rant gets me through it so I can stop thinking about it while I’m on vacation!
53. A House Divided Against Itself
This is the story of how my terrible father-in-law finally got called out on his nonsense. He always tries to make my wife and mother-in-law out to be the bad guys. A bit of backstory: My wife and I got married about six months ago. Due to some unfortunate goings-on, we’ve been living with her parents while we get our life together.
Her father has always had a few issues here and there, but tonight’s story took the cake. My mother-in-law is not very tech-savvy, and asked my wife to help her with a computer problem. While my father-in-law has always dealt with these in the past, he tends to be very snarky and condescending when doing so. So when my mother-in-law asked my wife to help her, she was more than happy to oblige.
My father-in-law was livid. He wanted to always be the one to fix the problems. My wife, who is very non-confrontational, asked him to let her have some space and she would be more than happy to take care of it this time. For whatever reason, this did not sit well with him one bit. He started calling her all sorts of nasty names—and then it took a disturbing turn.
He eventually threatened to slap her. I was not present at the time, and I only found out about this later. I lost my mind when she told me about it afterward. “How dare you think you’re going to threaten my wife? You will never, ever lay a single finger on her, do you hear me?” This of course escalated the situation even further. The funny part? My mother-in-law had our back the entire time, and even let loose a few shots of her own.
My father-in-law then starts trying to flip the blame back towards my wife. I kid you not, he says “If you weren’t so nasty, I wouldn’t have threatened you.” This, of course, caused more of a shouting match. Finally, my father-in-law says, “Then you two can just leave.” We all began immediately laughing at him. My mother-in-law is the breadwinner of their house.
My father-in-law can hardly be bothered to move from his chair, let alone pay for anything in the house. My mother-in-law tells him that we are staying right there and that there is not a thing he can do about it. My wife is still understandably freaked out about the whole situation, and I imagine that I won’t be feeling much better when the adrenaline wears off.
But I feel like it ended up being a small win. Plus, my mother-in-law is cool as can be!
54. Holy Roller
I’m in a DnD group with a couple of friends from nearby, and one of the members of the group was a kid who was about 15 years old. He’s a really sweet kid, likes helping other people out, and he’s a BIG fan of Dungeons and Dragons. He also has cancer in both of his lungs. He’s from a religious family that basically forces him to act pure while he’s in their sight.
The mom is practically rabid, while the dad is just a sensible person who just tries to get him to be a good kid. When he’s out of sight of his parents, he just does normal teen stuff. Because of his mom, the only books he was allowed to own were Christian books and bibles. He joined our group mainly as a way to escape his home life and his mom.
A couple of weeks ago, the cancer in his lungs started to get to him, so he was taken to a hospital by his parents. He contacted me about this a day after he was taken to the hospital, stating that he wanted a Monster Manual as his last wish, and saying that he was tired of reading the same things. I bought him the book from Barnes and Noble, but considering that he’s a dying teen, I got him Volo’s Guide to Monsters and Mordenkainen’s Tome of Foes stacked on top of that.
The next day, which was his birthday, he was still in the hospital, so I brought him the books as a gift. After he blew out the candles, we had cake and he started opening gifts. Mine was the first to be opened. Seeing what they were, he immediately got this humongous grin on his face and hugged me. Meanwhile, his mom stared down at the books with a look of pure disgust, with her husband staring at her with this wary look in his eyes.
She picks up one of the books, relights one of the candles, and HOLDS THE BOOK over it to try and set it on fire. I manage to stop her and demand “What are you doing?! He asked me to get those books and I’m not going to let you take them away!” His mom simply stared me down and said something along the lines of the books being “sinful,” “satanic,” and full of evil and that her son had no business with them.
I retort and say that her son can read what he wants and that she shouldn’t have to force him to be Christian. She starts getting red in the face and yelling at me about essentially forcing children to believe in God from a young age. I state that I’m a Baptist (which I actually am) and say that faith in God is a matter between God and the individual.
She turns red all over and actively starts to try and destroy the books again, with me, my friend, and her husband trying to stop her. At one point, I shouted “WOULD GOD WANT YOU TO DO THIS? TO RESTRICT YOUR DYING SON’S FREEDOM OF EXPRESSION?!” right in her face. This just sets her ablaze. She tosses the books aside and starts trying to STRANGLE her son.
Her husband calls security immediately when she does this. Security gets there within about a minute of the two of us trying to pry her off of her son and drag her away, with her shouting that we’re all “catamites to the devil.” Both her husband and my friend charge her with assault and attempted murder. The trial’s still going.
55. Meet Ugly
So for some context. I’m a 17-year-old male and I work at a Segway tour company. It’s actually really fun, I get to ride Segways around the city and talk to people, and get paid to do it. So anyway, there was a tour booked a couple of days ago and I came in about 20 minutes early to answer emails and get everything ready. The group shows up, mother and daughter, and that’s when things get interesting.
I check them in. ME: Alright I have some waivers for you to sign. Daughter, how old are you? D: Uh, 16. ME: Ok, then you don’t need to sign a waiver. I ask this because if kids are younger than 18, their parents sign the waivers for them, but the mom only heard me say the first part, not when I said the girl didn’t need to sign a waiver, so she thought I was just asking her daughter how old she was.
This was probably what started it all. We go on the tour, and while I’m giving my spiel, the mom keeps interrupting me to tell me stuff about the daughter and find out if we are compatible. ME: …and so this non-profit organization opened in— MOM: Are you in college? ME: No, I’m a junior in high school. I’m usually pretty free with information about myself on tours because it helps keep people relaxed and initiates conversations during lulls in the tour.
Plus it helps with tipping. MOM: Oh, my daughter is also a junior, she is an artist. Stuff like this keeps happening throughout the tour, and every time, the daughter gets redder and redder. My mom does this too where she just tells random mall attendants about me, so I know what the girl is going through and I feel her pain. At the end of the tour, I tell the two of them that they have 15 minutes to go around the town, and then they can meet me back at the Segway place.
I get back and start getting things set up for their return. They roll in (pardon the pun) and I take their Segways to start charging them. MOM: So what do you think of my daughter? ME: Pardon me, what? MOM: I saw you checking her out during the tour, are you gonna ask her out? D: Mom, stop! ME: Um, ma’am I just recently got out of a relationship and I’m really not looking for anything right now.
MOM: What!?!? ME: Huh? MOM: Is my daughter not good enough for you!? ME: No, that’s not it, I just said that I just got out of a relationship. Then it all took a very wild turn. MOM: You are going to date my daughter and that’s final! ME: You can’t tell me what to do. I’m not your kid, and if I don’t want to date your daughter, I don’t have to! Besides, you haven’t even asked her if she wants to date me.
D: Yeah, I don’t want to date him. ME: SEE?!? MOM: I’m going to call your boss and tell him about your terrible customer service! You’re never going to work here again! ME: (pulling out my phone) Alright, you want to call him and explain this situation? How you’re trying to force me to date your daughter and get me fired for saying no?
Then I guess the absurdity of the situation finally sunk in, and her face transitioned from pure rage to slight confusion. MOM: Wait, maybe I don’t want to— ME: No, let’s call him. (Start to go through my contacts, and press my boss’s name). Let’s have this conversation. MOM: I don’t think that’s a good idea— (Phone starts ringing)
MOM: Daughter, let’s go! She runs out the door, and the daughter turns to me and says “I’m sorry,” and then follows her mom. I hang up the phone before my boss answers and start cleaning the Segways.
56. Surf’s Up
I’m a surf instructor at a surf school on the beach. It was the end of the day, and I had just finished my final class. I’d done five hour-long classes in a row and I was covered in water and wet sand. Basically, I just wanted to get the thing off me and maybe go for a swim before I left the beach. I was in the surf shack we’re based in with three co-workers, who I’ll call Sam, Joe, and Mick.
Names changed but Sam in real life has an equally gender-neutral name. I texted my boyfriend, who confirmed he was five minutes away. I’d already finished my part of the closing up process, so while Sam put the closed sign on the door and locked up the filing cabinet and Joe and Mick sorted out the wetsuits and put the boards back in their holders, I left the boys to finish up and went to the changing area to strip off my wetsuit.
I’d gotten down to my tankini when I heard a loud, nasally, American-accented voice. EXCUSE ME? HELLO? SERVICE PLEASE? Seeing the boys were occupied, I pulled on my skirt and went to the door. This woman did not look like a stereotypical Karen. Long hair, tan, wearing a bikini with a big floppy beach hat and a sarong around her waist.
Her daughter was with her, looked around 10-12 years old, and like her mom’s Mini-Me, but she didn’t speak once during this encounter so I don’t know if she’s entitled or not. Me: Hi can I help you? Woman: You could start by putting some clothes on. My tankini is covering about the same amount of skin as a one-piece would, aside from a strip of exposed skin by my waist.
I’ll admit that the neckline is kind of low, but this woman is literally wearing a bikini, with way more exposed skin than me. And we’re in a surf shack. Me (customer service mode activated): I am very sorry, miss. Sam? Can you grab me my shirt, please? (he throws my tank top at me and I pull it on) Better? Woman: Not really. Is there anyone else who can take care of us?
Me: Sorry, my co-workers are a little busy right now, we’re closing up. Woman: Fine, I want to sign my daughter up for classes tomorrow. I start to talk her through the availability slots, when we can fit her kid in, prices and requirements. While I do this, I’m gesturing with my hands and leaning over the counter to point out some stuff on the sign-up sheet.
Woman (interrupting me): I’m sorry, don’t you have a sweatshirt or something? Keep in mind, it’s the middle of summer, in a heatwave, on a beach. Me (clinging to my customer service smile because I’m still technically on the clock): I’m sorry, no, I don’t. Would you like me to carry on? Woman: Is there no one else I could speak to? You’re making my daughter feel self-conscious.
Me (giving up on being polite): You’re making me feel self-conscious. It’s summer, it’s a beach, and it’s a heatwave. I do not have another shirt. Everything that needs to be covered is covered, and with all due respect, you’re wearing less than I am. Sam, wearing a t-shirt and denim shorts, hears all this and recognizes my tone as my “I’m about to snap” tone, so he looks at me, I nod at him, and he jumps in.
Sam: I’d be happy to help you, miss. My name is Sam. Why don’t you go— Woman: Sam is a guy? Sam: Last I checked. Woman: I thought you were a girl. Sam: Sorry to disappoint. Woman (to me): Do you think it’s appropriate to wander around like that when there’s a young man nearby? (to Sam) You should report her to HR. Sam: It’s a beach. People walk round in less all the time.
Woman (repeating): It’s inappropriate. Sam: You’re wearing a bikini. Woman: I’m not working, she is. Me: You do know this is a surf school? Meanwhile, Mick and Joe hear the noise. She hasn’t raised her voice or yelled or anything, but they can hear the tone of the conversation and decide they should step in just in case. Mick and Joe are both wearing board shorts and flip flops, and no shirts.
Mick (coming up behind me): Is there a problem here? Joe (at Mick’s side): Anything we can help with? Her eyes go wide. She looks between me and the three boys in shock and horror. Woman (recovering herself): I was just saying tha— Me: She was just telling me to put some clothes on. Mick: You know this is a beach, right? If anything, she’s overdressed.
The woman can see she’s not going to persuade me to magically summon more clothing to wear, and you can tell from her eyes she knows the boys won’t agree with her. Then a thought hits her like a brick to her hollow head. Woman: Just WHAT were you four doing back there? Joe: Closing up. Woman: I’m not stupid (I beg to differ).
Woman: You’re telling me she answered the door practically naked and y’all are wearing barely anything, but nothing’s going on here. Mick (jokingly to me): Now, we’ve told you not to answer the door naked. I laugh. Woman: Don’t you laugh at me, you little skank! I know what’s going on here you…perverts! Sam, who is gay, is in all-out, doubled over, peals of laughter.
The woman’s daughter looks really embarrassed and is now bright red with her face in her hands. Sam: You—You think that (trails off mid-sentence in favor of more laughing) Woman: Oh, sure, everyone protects the office skank! (Joe literally falls to the floor clutching his stomach laughing) Mick: Yeah, now if you don’t mind we’re in the middle of it, so get in or get out.
It’s just then that my boyfriend shows up. Boyfriend (sees me, Joe, Sam, and Mick beside ourselves laughing, the woman looking homicidal and the daughter bright red with her face in her hands): Everything okay here? My boyfriend comes over and gives me a hug, and I get the frankly genius idea to pull him in for a kiss in full view of the woman.
She screeches, some demonic noise that only dogs can hear, and stomps off, her poor daughter in tow, and that’s the last we ever heard from her.
57. A Blessing And A Curse
I’m a 19-year-old girl, and I’m my parents’ second child. I have three brothers who are 21, 13, and 7, plus a sister, who is 16. We grew up poor and our parents were often dependent on financial help from relatives, friends, etc. for raising us. This is because even though my dad has a mediocre job and my mom doesn’t work, they just kept on popping out one kid after another.
My parents are very religious and believe that children are a gift from God. Personally, I think that’s total garbage. My parents’ reproductive choices wouldn’t bother me…if it hadn’t caused mine and my siblings’ lives to turn into a nightmare. While growing up, we never had new clothes or toys, we had to accept handouts from family members who were better off.
We never went out or did anything fun. To top it off, we were well aware that the rest of the family looked down on us for constantly asking for handouts. Now, my older brother and I have managed to get into good colleges and are looking forward to a future that would be better than our parents’ lives. He and I were staying at our parents’ place for a while.
One morning, my parents called all five of us into the living room. Mom said she had great news. The smile that was forming on my face instantly fell when she said, “We’re pregnant!” I lost my temper. I asked them how they could be so stupid and irresponsible. Do they not have enough financial troubles already that they have to bring in another mouth to feed?
My older brother tried to calm me down, but I was livid. After a lifetime of scarcity because of my parents’ stupidity, they still hadn’t learned their lesson. I asked them how they planned to provide for the kid. My dad told me I would have to give up the money our great uncle had left me. He had left all five of us some money which only we could access when we turned 18.
I said “Heck no!” That money would help pay for my college expenses. He called me selfish for not being there for my family. I told them if they couldn’t provide for the kid, they should get an abortion. My mom started crying and called me a heartless monster. Dad told me he was disgusted with me. I told them there was no way I was going to pay for their stupidity and the ONLY thing I would be willing to pay for is a termination.
What I was really worried about was my siblings’ lives getting even worse. My older brother and I have escaped our parents’ clutches but the others, especially my younger sister, WILL be expected to help take care of this baby. No teenager deserves to have their adolescence ruined by diapers and a screaming baby. I know what it’s like, as I had to go through that.
It was expected of me to be an unpaid nanny to my younger brothers and sister. My older brother could go out with his friends and have fun, but I had to stay home and help give baths and feed the toddlers. I decided to get some family members involved so they could talk some sense into my parents. I called my mom’s maternal cousin, who’s one of my favorite people and who is basically my aunt.
When I told her that mom and dad were having another kid, she reacted with “WHAT? AGAIN??” I told her everything and how they expected me to hand over my inheritance, and she said she was going to speak to my parents and told me not to sign over anything. I promised her I wouldn’t (of course I won’t). I also called two of my first cousins, one of whom is an accountant, so she could explain to my parents how much of a financial liability this baby is going to be and try to convince them to either abort or give it up for adoption.
I moved out of my parents’ home a few days ago. I just can’t bear to listen to my mom’s nagging about how “this baby is a blessing” and that I “want to kill it.” I’ve moved into a friend’s house for minimal rent. My mom’s cousin paid them a visit about a week ago and tried to tell them they weren’t doing this child any favors by bringing it into a life of poverty.
My mom was very rude to my aunt and told her that “a woman who chose to remain barren will never understand a mother’s love.” My aunt never wanted kids nor had any, which is one of the reasons she’s my favorite. My dad told her to get out. My aunt told me there was nothing she could do, but she did try. I didn’t blame her.
The cousin tried to explain the economic impact this kid would have and my mom cried about how “everyone was trying to take away her baby.” The “intervention” didn’t do anything. So now I’ve decided to cut contact with my parents, since I just can’t watch my family slide further and further into a hole. I’ll be maintaining contact with my sister (16) just to make sure my parents can’t brainwash her.
My older brother is going to stay in touch with all of them, which is a good thing as he can act as a link between me and the other siblings if my parents ever forbid them from talking to me. Otherwise, I’m done with these people.
58. Taking Me For A Ride
I’m a single parent, and I have a beautiful girl who is turning five in August. The past year I have been fighting with the ex that tried to keep my kid away from me. Lawyers aren’t cheap, and being single doesn’t exactly help with my finances. A couple of months ago, I won the lawsuit and I finally got to have my kid at my home again.
For the past few weeks she was saying she wanted a bicycle, but as I was still recovering from the lawsuit bills, I wasn’t able to afford it. This past week, I got my summer bonus which finally gave me the financial boost I needed. So yesterday I finally was able to buy my little girl her bike she wanted so badly. I enjoyed my time with her riding our bikes, but then it was getting time for dinner, which I still had to make.
So we head back home and park the bikes in the backyard. We go inside and I start making dinner. After about 10 minutes, I spot movement in the corner of my eye through the kitchen window—and my heart dropped. I see this kid just casually strolling by with the brand new bike I just got today. I ran to the front door, hoping I’d catch him before he rides away.
I was lucky I did. I yanked the bike out of his hands, and freaked out to him, saying it was mine and he had no right to just walk into other people’s back yards to take things. I was so mad. I forced him to get off my property, and set the bike inside my front hallway, thinking it’s over. Boy, was I wrong. After comforting my little girl, I return to the kitchen to continue making dinner.
15 minutes later, the doorbell rings. It’s the kid and his Evil Mother. EM: You give my boy this bike back! He found it! It’s his! Me: He “found” it in MY backyard! I got it for my MY kid today! You should try teaching your kid some manners, he shouldn’t trespass on other people’s property to take their things. EM: Don’t tell me how to raise my kid! Give me the bike back or I’m calling the authorities!
Me: (laughs) Call them! And I slam the door in her face. By this point, my kid is crying her eyes out, and I get to comfort her again, as she’s thinking she’s losing her brand new bike. Her sobbing finally over, I try continuing to make dinner, yet again. Preparation’s done, I’m about to put it all on the stove, doorbell. I flip out, storm to the door, violently open it, and get ready to just explode into her face.
Guess what, she actually called the authorities. I instantly calm down when I see it’s them and invite one of the two officers inside while the other stays with the evil woman. I explain the situation and show him the box the bike came in, along with the receipt that has my name on it. He shrugs and apologized for the inconvenience, and assured me I won’t be bothered again.
I let him out and close the door with a smug smile on my face. I check the front window to see what’s happening, and I see her go into a full tantrum. It ends with her in handcuffs and in the backseat of the patrol car. Bye Felicia! Don’t know what happened to her, and I don’t care. I finally finished dinner, and my kid still has her bike. That’s all that matters to me.
59. No Means No
This all happened around 10 years ago and takes place over the course of the absolute worst months of my life. I had just turned 18 at the time, and thanks to my mom’s gambling addiction we lost the house that I had lived in my entire life. Almost right after we lost the house, a family friend offered to let us stay at her house with her family, since she and her husband had a few extra rooms.
We move into their very large house, and at first, things were great. The family consisted of the parents and their kid, who was the same age as me. All of them were understanding and nice at first, offering to let me and my mom stay for as long as it would take for us to get back on our feet. The mom even got me my first job working as a volunteer at a bingo hall.
It was all under the table kind of money, but I didn’t care since it was money in my pocket that my mom couldn’t/wouldn’t provide me. The parents had been family friends for a very long time and were absolutely enamored with the idea of me and their son getting together, and have been ever since we were little. They constantly made comments like “look at the beautiful couple,” “you two look so great together,” or “we’ll give you lovebirds some privacy” whenever we were in the same place together.
Despite me stating several times that I didn’t like him in that way, they were determined to try to get us to work, like some kind of arranged marriage. I think that really fed into the boy’s ego, because about a month into my stay there is when the first incident happened. We were walking down the hall when he smacks my butt from out of nowhere.
I really freaked out and went off on him, yelling, cursing, and giving him a few shoves. Our parents came upstairs to see what all the yelling was about and we end up getting separated. I tell my mom what happened, and she responds by telling me “it wasn’t a big deal” and to “not rock the boat” while we were living there. The boy eventually gives some half-baked apology to me at dinner.
His dad made some joke about how he’s relieved that he’s finally taking an interest in girls since they were starting to think he was gay. Things escalate from there. Any chance he got, he would make lewd comments or find some way to grope me. Every time I went to his parents it was always hand-waved away as “boys will be boys” or “he probably didn’t mean it that way.”
They said that he was a really sweet guy deep down and I should get to know him better. On one occasion, the dad told me that I “should be flattered.” My mom was content to not do anything, enjoying the freeloading that got to feed her addiction too much, and telling me to “stop playing hard to get.” One day, he puts a hand down my shirt as I’m sitting on the couch.
I started yelling at him about how I’m sick of him doing stuff like this and to never do it again. His reaction was chilling. He gave me the most terrifying glare and told me “Shut up! You live in MY house.” After that, I was so terrified of being alone with him that I would stay after school for as long as I could until l was asked to leave, and if I ever had to go back to the house for any reason, I would just hide in my room with the door locked and wouldn’t come out until I knew other people were around.
I just didn’t know if one day he was just going to force himself on me. Fast forward a few months and I’m told, not asked, that I’m going with him as his date to his senior prom, which is in a week. The parents are super excited and tell me that we’ll have the whole house to ourselves that night after we come back from the dance. I very quickly shut that down.
I tell them that I’m not going because of how he treats me, and they spend the rest of the day doing everything they can to compel me. First, they try telling me money isn’t an issue, how they’ll pay for my dress and ticket. When that doesn’t work, they try to guilt-trip me, telling me how they ask me for so little, and how this is the least I can do, and how much he would love it.
Finally, my mom eventually hears about it after she comes home from the casino, and she’s angry. She tells me how I need to go, how it’s such a big opportunity for the both of us, and how I need to tell them that I changed my mind. I refuse, and the day after the prom is over, the parents sit me and my mom down for a talk. They start implementing new rules.
They are all about how they now expect us to pitch in for all the amenities, how we’re expected to buy our own food, and how they’re going to start charging us for rent. Before all this, they were very adamant about us not paying for anything, wanting us to save money to get back on our feet. Even without my mom spending half or all of her checks at the casino, there was no way for us to afford what they were asking. It all went downhill from there.
They subsequently gave us a month to find our own place and move out. We ended up moving out to live in a sketchy neighborhood with some guy my mom was dating, who she’d met at the casino. My mom blamed me for the entire thing, saying I “blew a golden opportunity for both of us.” How I basically threw away a great future that was all laid out for me because I “wouldn’t dance and put out.”
That cut me pretty deeply, and I still get angry thinking about it to this day. A few months later I graduated, but my mom didn’t show up to the ceremony. I come back to the house and I make a horrifying discovery. All my stuff is sitting on the curb next to the trash and had been thoroughly picked through. I found out my key doesn’t work anymore, and nobody is picking up their phone.
I end up waiting till about 3 in the morning for them to come back from the casino, and my mom tells me in so many words that I’m on my own now. Nothing I say changes her mind, and I eventually pack what little of my stuff is left into my car. I spent the next month or two couch-surfing or sleeping in my car, while trying to pick up as many days as I could at work.
Eventually, I managed to save up enough to move into my first apartment with a roommate. I haven’t spoken to my mom or those parents since then, but recently my mom left me a voicemail asking if we could talk, since she didn’t like the way we left things. Since then, she’s been blowing up my phone every day. I don’t plan on ever taking her call.
60. Here’s To You
Now, for a bit of context, last weekend was liberation day in Holland, and many cities were having festivals to celebrate. Most of these festivals have free entrance, so they tend to crack down on people bringing their own food and drinks, to increase profits from beverage sales. A friend of mine lives within the area where the festival is taking place though, so usually we drop our booze at his place and retrieve it during the festival.
Since it didn’t seem like a terrific idea to walk around with a bottle of JD, I mixed it into a 1L Coca Cola Vanilla bottle with just enough coke that it looked like coke, and went onto the festival grounds. While walking around with the bottle of “coke,” I feel a tap on my shoulder. Festival etiquette is to move over to the side to let somebody pass, after which I move along.
I suddenly feel a hand grabbing my shoulder and trying to pull me back, so I turn around, and I’m faced with a typical Karen. Her: Where’d you get that? pointing at the bottle Me: Brought it from home. Her: Can my kid have some? Me, not wanting everybody to know I had booze on me: They sell coke over there, you can buy your kid a fresh, cold one. Her: They don’t sell vanilla coke there, and he doesn’t like the regular one. He wants yours. holds out hand
Me: If he doesn’t like the regular one, I’m pretty sure he won’t like this any better… Meanwhile, the kid has started squealing about how he’s thirsty and “wants THAT one,” and the mother starts giving me a demanding stare. Me: …Okay lady, I’m going to be honest with you. Half of this bottle is Jack Daniels, and I don’t think it’s a good idea to give it to the kid. Her response made me want to scream.
Her: You’re lying! You just made that up so you wouldn’t have to share with my baby! Now give it to me! While I turn away in an attempt to disappear into the crowd, the kid grabs the bottle with both hands, wrenches it from my hand, and makes a run for it, his mom in tow. I follow them, and I find them just in time to see the kid take a few massive swigs from the bottle.
After, this he starts violently throwing up almost immediately. Figuring the best move for me would be to not further pursue the now vomit-covered bottle of Jack and coke, I decided to head over to my friend’s and mix a new one. In passing, I throw the mom a “Told you” and make my way into the crowds. Within seconds, she charges me and starts attempting to take a swing at me.
“YOU POISONED MY BABY!!! SECURITY!!!” We’re separated by bystanders, and a stallholder gets security, who questions both me and the woman. Her: He gave my baby this bottle of poison and told him it was coke! I want him detained. Guard: Sir, what’s in this bottle? Me: A premixed JD and coke, somewhat on the generous side with the JD.
Guard: And why did you give that to a kid? Me: I didn’t, sir. I was mostly planning on getting smashed myself, to be fair. They thought it was coke, wouldn’t believe me when I told them it was booze and snatched the bottle from me. What you’re seeing here is just the result of the kid taking a drink before I was able to stop him.
At this point, a bystander chimed in, confirming that he saw the kid snatch the bottle from my hand, although he hadn’t heard the conversation. Security tells the mom to not pull that ridiculous stuff again and to take her still crying kid to the first-aid post. He then instructs me to be more careful with the next batch I’m “inevitably about to make.”
61. Falling On Deaf Ears
This is about my adoptive mother. My adoptive parents are British citizens who moved to my country in the EU. They adopted me actually expecting mental disabilities, but I was just profoundly deaf. You would think that would be easier. So I grow up, and I get enrolled in deaf schools where I learn sign language. But my mother decides it’s too hard for her to learn sign language…and actually bans me from using it in the house.
I had to mime or point at things until I could start writing, upon which time I carried around a notebook everywhere. If I did try to sign, I was called disrespectful for not including her in the conversation. In a strange way, this made my written language skills very good, as well as my lip-reading skills, which many deaf people have challenges with.
It was very difficult and upsetting living with her. My adoptive father was nice but he just listened to whatever she wanted, so he became a bad parent too. I went to university and limited contacting them. The one time I tried to visit them for the holidays, I got a terrible surprise. When I rang the doorbell, a strange family answered. See, my adoptive parents had moved back to Britain without telling me. Who does that?
62. Adulting 101
Last week, I was traveling for work. It had been a long two days of meetings, and I was exhausted. I had just arrived at the airport for my evening cross-country flight home when I got the dreaded text from the airline saying my flight was delayed two hours due to mechanical problems. I decided to pass the time by getting something to eat.
I found one of those airport restaurants and sat down to order at it. I ordered my food and pulled my phone out of my bag to catch up on e-mails and browse the web while waiting for my food to arrive. While I was waiting, a family with a mom, dad, little girl about five years old, and a middle-school-aged boy sat at a table near me.
I didn’t pay them much attention as I was looking at e-mail on my phone, but then I hear the little girl exclaim in a rather loud voice, “Look mom, that lady is on her phone at the table!” I then hear the mother reply, “Yes, she shouldn’t be doing that. It is rude to have a phone at the table.” I glance over and the mother says to me, “We have a rule that no phones are allowed at the table.”
My first reaction was to say something snarky, as exhaustion was definitely getting the better of me, but then I thought again and decided to be polite. I looked at the little girl and said, “We have the same rule in my family, but since I’m here alone I’m not being rude to anyone by looking at my phone now.” At this point, the son looks like he wants to crawl under the table from embarrassment and the dad is trying to hand the mom a menu.
He says, “It’s okay, let’s just order.” I think that will be the end of it, but no. The mom says, “Obviously you have a family, so you know how important it is to follow rules. I would appreciate it if you would put away your phone.” This is in a tone that a parent would use on a petulant teen. The little girl chimes in and says, “Yeah, you have to put your phone away. My brother can’t have his phone at the table, so you can’t either.”
I look at the little girl and say in as sweet a tone as I can muster, “Well, the great thing about being a grown-up is that I can do whatever I want, so now I’m going to keep looking at my phone” and turn back to my e-mail. The mother sighs loudly, the teen looks even more embarrassed, and the dad again tries to get the mom to just order and leave me alone.
The mom calls the waiter over and asks to be re-seated. He grudgingly moves them to a different table. My food arrives, and I eat in peace, enjoying browsing the Internet.
63. The Writing’s On The Wall
When I was a preteen, my mom gifted me a diary with a tiny lock and keys. I hid the keys (taped them in hidden places) and began using it almost immediately. I was a bookworm and loved reading and writing. I was also quite neglected as a child, so my diary was the only place I could express myself and feel heard. I’d read my last entries and that allowed me to reflect on my own thoughts and actions, and learn from past situations.
It was honestly really great for my mental health. For a time, my mood and mental health improved. Time passed. I couldn’t tell you how long. Probably a few months. Shortly after I wrote an entry talking about my first wet dream, my mom got furious at me and confronted me, full-on screaming. She sat me in the living room, as she towered over me, screaming at my face.
She started asking me if I thought this was normal, that I was having depraved thoughts no child my age should have (for a preteen??? Really??? It was actually perfectly normal!), that I had promised no sex before marriage when I was five years old and that this was clearly going against my word. I tried to defend myself at first and protest, not understanding how she even knew about it.
Then she took out the unlocked diary as “proof” of my depravity, and my attempts at defending myself (it was just a dream) just fueled her anger more. I sat there silently crying, answering quietly whatever she wanted me to say to whatever she asked because nothing else would stop her escalation of screaming. I felt betrayed. My locked diary was my only safe place in that home.
I was careful with what I wrote in my diary after that incident and set a few tests to check if I was still having my locked diary read without my knowledge or consent. I did this by writing about innocuous incidents in a way that could’ve sounded like it was more than it was, knowing it would prompt questions out of curiosity. Every time.
It didn’t take more than two days for the questions to come. Turns out, she’d hunt for my diary’s keys and read it regularly. Needless to say, I stopped using my diary. My only breathing space had been turned against me. I significantly closed myself off from everyone. I felt if even my diary could “betray” me, then people could even more.
It was hard not writing. I no longer had an outlet for emotional or psychological relief, but I really couldn’t trust anything anymore. After a week or two without any new entries, Mom asked why I had stopped using my diary. If I had dared, I’d have rolled my eyes and asked, “Why do you think???” But I knew better than to attract attention to myself and simply said I had lost interest in such a thing.
I really should mention that this was like 20 years ago, and I’m in a really good place now.
64. A Dressing Down
I’ve been student teaching this spring in a sixth-grade class. It’s been a stressful semester, but a good one. Since day one, I have been treated 100% like a colleague and equal by my teacher and her grade level partners. I’m very baby-faced and don’t always look like I’m in my 20s, but I know these kids very well, as I subbed for them a lot last year and in this past fall.
So they already have respect for me and we have a decent relationship. This week we’re on a camping trip with four total classes. I finished student teaching, but my teacher invited me on as a teacher to get the experience. We mostly hang in the medical lodge and make sure kids take their meds each day. Easy gig after months of teaching.
The kids are happy to see me, too. Anyways. We arrived at camp. I rode on the bus with my teacher. Two of the other teachers drove their cars with student luggage, and so did some parents. I got off the bus and started to head down to the lodge with the other teachers for our meeting with the camp director and the counselors. I stopped off to fill my water bottle before heading down.
As I finished up, a mom came up to me. I smiled and was about to greet her— “You can’t wear that.” “Excuse me?” “Young lady, that is so inappropriate for a school setting. You’re going to distract my son and all the other boys. I’m going to have to ask you to change as soon as we get to our cabins.” For reference: I was wearing jeans, a black undershirt, and a tank top with thick straps that covered my bra.
You literally only saw my black undershirt that kept my bra from being seen through my shirt. Oh, and it was 100 degrees (Fahrenheit). I let out a small chuckle. I thought it was a silly mix up we could laugh about later. Nope, that set her off. “Don’t you dare laugh! I’m serious. Who is your teacher? You are so disrespectful. No wonder you’re dressed like that, trying to get the boys’ attention I bet.”
I put on my best “polite teacher dealing with parents” smile. “Whose parent are you?” She told me. Her kid was a troublemaker from another class. “Well,” I said, “I don’t know if you’re aware of this, but I’m not a student. I’m a teacher. And the camp’s dress code allows my students to wear tank tops, so do not ask them to change.”
“Now you’re lying to me?! Where is your teacher? I’m getting you sent home!” One of my teacher’s partners, Mrs. A, overheard the yelling and came over—also in a tank top. “Is there something you need, Ms.?” She asked me. I shook my head. “No, I was just introducing myself to this mother. She didn’t know Mrs. T had a student teacher this year.”
Mrs. A nodded earnestly. “Yes, she has been such an asset to all of us this semester. Your son actually got a few science lessons from her this year! She’s going to be a great teacher.” The mother was absolutely red in the face. Later that afternoon, we brought all the parents down to our air-conditioned lodge to talk them through the week ahead.
Mrs. T, who is kind of our grade’s team captain, introduced me to the parents. Everyone except the one woman was happy to meet me, and a few even said their kids loved having me as one of their teachers. The best part of the week so far was when her son ran up to me at dinner and asked in front of his mom, “Miss, can you teach seventh grade next year so you can be one of my teachers? I’m gonna miss you!”
65. You Never Forget Your First
This happened when I was 13 and was attending a male friend’s birthday party—I’m a girl. We attended the same school and a lot of other kids from our school were also there, along with their parents. As I gave my friend his present, I wished him a happy birthday with a hug. When he was cutting the cake, another boy from our school, who was a notorious jerk, stood right next to me.
He kept trying to touch my breasts since I was already quite developed. I kept telling him to stop but he wouldn’t listen. He kept trying to put his arms around me and trying to grope my chest. His friends were standing around us and I could hear them snicker. Finally, I’d had enough. I yelled at him to get away from me and my friend’s mom, the hostess, asked me what was wrong.
I told her what the guy had been doing. She sternly told him to apologize and to stop harassing me, otherwise, he would be asked to leave. Except now the jerk’s horrible mom stepped in. She asked my friend’s mom why she was scolding her son, and my friend’s mom explained what he had been doing. This horrible mom’s response was something like, “I don’t see what the big deal is. This girl hugged your son, why can’t she let my son touch her?”
Then she turned to me and said, “You need to stop being so stuck up and learn to be friendly. If my son just put his arm around you, what’s wrong with that? Stop complaining.” I told her I didn’t like her son and didn’t like him touching me. My friend’s mom told her to stop making a scene and that her son needs to apologize.
This woman acted indignantly and as she stormed off, she again said something like, “If that girl is okay with your son touching her, she’s probably okay with all boys touching her. You’re just being rude to us.” My friend’s mom was absolutely wonderful. She asked if I was okay and told me I had done the right thing by telling the boy off.
This was my first encounter with an entitled parent—outside of my own family, that is.
66. It’s The Little Things
So today, my husband and I were feeling bored and adventurous and decided to make a pilgrimage to a posh “Coffee Bar” in our city. We’ve been meaning to go for months but never got around to it. We pull in the lot and it’s packed. 10:45 am on a Sunday, so we expected it. As I’m getting out of the car, the mombie next to me is struggling to get three kids out of their seats while her husband (?) stood by the front of the car watching, not helping.
I hop out and excuse myself and walk into the café with my own husband. Huge line. Two more people come in after us, then mombie and her horde. She immediately starts complaining about the line. She talks loudly to her husband at first, but when he’s clearly ignoring her, she decides to just complain to thin air. “Why is this line always so long? God, why don’t they have more staff? Why does every person have to come at the same time? UGH!”
She eventually asked the couple in front of her if she can go ahead because her kids are really, really hungry. These saints begrudgingly say sure, so now this delightful family is directly behind my husband and me. She then says to me, “Excuse me miss? May we have the spot before you in line? My children have been waiting a long time and are very hungry.”
With the nicest voice I could find, I said, “I’m sorry ma’am, we’ve been waiting a while too and are also hungry. The line is moving faster now at least!” I gave her a smile even though she was glaring at me. I turn back around only to hear her mutter, “Wow what a witch. Can you believe some people? How rude.” It took all my effort to not react.
My husband is a conflict avoider, I am not. But I respect his wishes enough to not cause a scene in public when I’m with him. Eventually, she starts telling her husband how they’re always out of the Mediterranean Spinach Breakfast sandwich she wants and she better get it this time or she’s gonna so mad. This is when I concoct a seriously evil plan.
I check my watch; it’s 10:55. A minute or two later, it’s our turn. Husband orders his Soy Chai and I sloooowly order my vanilla nitro cold brew…with cream….no, not cream, sorry, with soy. And an extra pump of vanilla. Barista rings us up as I check my watch. It’s 10:58. I ask to add a Mediterranean Spinach Breakfast Sandwich to the order.
She says sure, no problem. Gives us the total. I’m digging in my purse for my wallet, darn, just can’t seem to find it. More digging. Oh! There it is, finally. Hand her the card, wait for the receipt, and slowly sign. Pack purse back up, say thank you, and walk away. Husband says, “You’re hungry? We ate breakfast an hour ago.” Me: “No, I’m not hungry. Just had to do this.”
Him: “Do what?” I nod towards mombie. Husband looks over. She orders her coffee and some juice things for the kids, doesn’t even ask if her husband wants anything. Then it happened. “And one Mediterranean Spinach Breakfast Sandwich.” Barista: “Oh I’m sorry ma’am, we stopped serving breakfast at 11. We have all our lunch options today though.”
Mombie looks at her watch and yells “WHAT? ARE YOU KIDDING ME?!? IT’S 11:02!” Barista: “I’m sorry ma’am, company policy is to stop breakfast at 11. Is there anything else I can get you?” Mombie: “GET ME YOUR MANAGER! THIS IS RIDICULOUS. YOU JUST SOLD ONE A MOMENT AGO! THIS IS ABSURD!” The manager came over, explained the situation, apologized, but refused to give that witch a sandwich, bless her heart.
Mombie retracts her entire order and stomps out, red-faced and yelling all the way to her car. My husband was trying to hold back his laughter. Our order came up. We grabbed it and went back to the car. I’m unwrapping the sandwich and take a bite exactly as I’m trying to scoot around her trying to strap her kids in again. I say, “Oh excuse me ma’am, just gonna sneak by ya real quick!”
She’s glaring at me, the worst stare I’ve ever gotten. I get in the car and unwind the windows ever so slightly. It’s hot today, right? I slowly unwrap the rest of the sandwich and take a few more bites, passing it to husband and back while she’s screaming and struggling with her kids, getting no help from Daddy. As soon as she pulled away, we burst into laughter. Today was a good day.
67. Do Not Disturb
My crazy entitled aunt had an annoying habit (one of her many annoying habits) to just storm in when I was changing my clothes. The door would be closed and if it wasn’t locked, she would just let herself in. My protests that I may be in a state of undress fell on deaf ears, as did any insistence that she knock before entering, like a civilized human being.
The following incidents happened when I was either 18 or 19 and my aunt and her husband were over for a visit. I was in my room, changing my clothes. My bedroom door had a small defect and it wouldn’t lock properly. So anytime it was closed, my dad, stepmom, and stepbrother would either knock or ask if they could come in.
Not entitled aunt, of course. She considered herself above such frivolous courtesies. She could come into rooms as and when she saw fit, and mere mortals would just have to live with it. Unfortunately for her, this mere mortal had had enough of her privacy being invaded. My top was off when I heard the door begin to creak open. I yelled “I’M CHANGING. WAIT OUTSIDE!”
As expected, my aunt didn’t listen and was about to stick her head in when I swiftly reached the door, pulled it back a little and slammed it hard into my aunt’s thick skull. Not enough to crack her skull, but enough to hurt. My aunt let out a howl that instantly brought a smile to my face. She went downstairs whining. I followed.
She yelled at my dad about what I had done. My dad and uncle were drinking at the time and were uncharacteristically chilled. Dad just looked at her, then looked at me and said something like “Yeah…..don’t do that.” My uncle just burst out laughing, as if his wife getting her head banged was the funniest thing he had ever heard.
Such dismissal of her grievances was too much to bear for my aunt, and she demanded that they leave immediately. My uncle told her he was in no condition to drive. Besides, he and my dad were going to watch a cricket match, so leaving was out of the question. My aunt then dialed my cousin’s number, believing wholeheartedly that her son would come to her aid.
But judging from her end of the conversation, my cousin was out with his friends and wasn’t going to drive all the way over to deal with her and her need to get into unnecessary squabbles. My aunt had no options left. She just sat down on the couch while holding an ice pack against her head. Her anger was boiling over but was completely ignored by my “happy” dad and uncle. It was a lovely evening.
68. Crash And Burn
I work IT for a small company, and I support about 25 people in total. Anything tech-related is owned by the company, and I am involved in it. I like my job. Most of the folks working here are good people, even though some of them are very difficult to train on computers. This entitled parent is a middle-aged woman who, as far as I can tell, gets paid more than I do to do about 45 minutes of work a day that she stretches into a full 8-hour shift.
She can’t really even do that 45 minutes of work correctly most of the time and I’ve had to come and retrain her on the software we use several times a month. She also refuses to listen when I am helping her with tech issues and has something new to complain to me about every week. I’m told she only got the job because her dad and the owner of the company are old drinking buddies.
Well, as annoying as she is, I was able to mostly ignore her until this incident last week. I am in my office working on something when she comes in with a laptop, some cables, and an iPad. She sets them down on my desk and just looks at me without saying a word. Me: “Uh…what’s all this?” Her: “My son’s laptop and my iPad are having trouble. Can you fix them?”
Me: “Sorry, I don’t work on personal devices. If it isn’t owned by the company I won’t work on it. You’ll have to go to a shop or something.” Her: “Oh come on! You fix this kinda stuff all the time. I bet it takes you 5-10 minutes tops to get them running. Then you can get back to whatever else you wanna fix.” Me: “Sorry, not happening.”
Her (turning several shades of purple and red at this point): “What the heck is wrong with you?! You sit around all day doing nothing, and when you finally come out of your office, it’s to fix things that you obviously screwed up because you’re incompetent! Just fix the things so I can take them home and use them again. I don’t know why the boss even keeps you around, you are so useless!”
Me: “Yeah I’m gonna have to ask you to leave my office so I can get back to work.” I go back to working on things and she grabs her stuff and storms out, slamming my door behind her. I get a call about 20 minutes later from the owner asking why she was demanding I be fired. She had told him that I had laughed in her face and refused to help her.
She even said I threatened to never help her with IT problems at work again because I was mad. She called me out on being lazy. I explained what actually happened and offered to send him a copy of the camera footage of the entire incident since there is a camera overlooking my entire office. The owner requested the footage so I sent it to him.
I get in the next day and I realize the entitled woman isn’t there. I ask around and apparently, the owner called her into his office and spoke with her about the incident. She tried to double down on her lies when he showed her the footage, including audio. It sealed her fate and caught her in the lie…He then offered to let her take some time off to cool her head before coming back to work, but that he’d expect her to make an apology to me for her behavior.
This enraged her. Everyone could hear her even through closed doors, screaming about how awful a person I was. She then stormed out of his office, grabbed her things, and shouted “I QUIT” before leaving. So, she’s gone for good. She is so unwilling to own up to her own poor behavior and apologize to me that she threw away a cushy job making way more money than she is likely to make anywhere else around here.
What an idiot. On the plus side, without her here constantly complaining, I am getting a bit more work done each day.
69. Room For One More?
As a child I was enrolled in a Washington DC private school, so kids of politicians, diplomats, lawyers, doctors, etc. all went there. The school charged an insane amount for tuition, expected parents to pay thousands extra in fees/donations, and took the kids on their choice of four two-week trips: Art in Europe, Skiing in New Hampshire, Scuba Diving, or Biology in Australia.
These were every year and cost tens of thousands. One girls’ mom bought a darkroom and camera equipment for the school so her daughter could learn photography. Long story short, these parents and their kids were beyond entitled. My parents could afford my tuition, but that was a stretch for them so we weren’t viewed as being especially valuable to the school.
My school was taking each grade on a three-day trip that got us psyched up all year. The teacher asked each child to list their top five choices for roommates. The week before the trip, my mom got a call from the principal. I was nosy so I picked up too and listened in on the conversation. What I heard broke my heart in a million pieces.
Basically, she said: “None of the kids want your daughter in their cabin. They don’t like her. We suggested that it would be a nice thing to do, but the parents didn’t think their children should be forced to be with someone they dislike. We don’t have enough cabins to put her in one by herself, so you should just keep her home.”
Just to clarify, I was not a bad kid. I got fairly good grades. I was shy. I was quiet and dressed like a nerd because I didn’t know better. Girls in my class were already wearing makeup and had a very clear-cut “code of coolness” that I just didn’t understand. I was devastated. Nine years old, completely heartbroken, in tears. They “didn’t want their children to be uncomfortable.”
But it’s ok for any nine-year-old girl to know that no one likes her and her school doesn’t care how she feels? I refused to go back to school. I was so ashamed, I felt shattered and stupid and worthless. That was the beginning of a downslide into depression. Those kids had told me for years that I was worthless, stupid, ugly, and one year I did a report on being adopted, and let me tell you, the kids had a field day with that.
But the realization that not one single person was in my corner, not even the teachers—it just broke me. I believed them all, I was worthless. At age 12, my parents put me in an intense residential treatment program for depression, anxiety, and other things. I am now 35 and I have a good life, wonderful friends, great kids, and I foster all kinds of abandoned and unwanted animals.
I know the value of kindness and try to help others every chance I get. Life is good, I am loved and I am happy, but I still get choked up thinking back to that phone call.
70. No Laughing Matter
I have seen a lot of crazy people in the course of my life, but my potential mother-in-law is the absolute worst person I have ever met. I have been with my boyfriend for eight months now, and we’re both in our 30s. For the first few months, everything was amazing. He is the sweetest and most caring man I have ever been with, bar none.
He likes to surprise me with fun dates and flowers for no apparent reason. The biggest surprise of all, though, was when I met his mother. I met his parents for the first time a few months ago. The first thing his mother said to me when I walked in the door was “are you Jewish?” I am not and I am not particularly religious, but I was raised Catholic.
Once I told her this, it was the beginning of the madness. She immediately stopped talking to me and acted as if I didn’t exist. I was extremely nervous about meeting my boyfriend’s parents, so this broke my heart. I was determined to make a good impression, so I kept trying to connect with her. This was a huge mistake and I should have just let it go.
Once we were all seated for dinner, she finally decided to try and make conversation. I have naturally red hair and she asked me if my parents have the same color. I told her that I have the same hair as my mother. She then had the audacity to ask me, “Does the carpet match the drapes?” I had no idea how to respond and just sat there, stunned.
Seeing my reaction, she said, “Don’t worry I will just ask my son about it later.” I looked over at my boyfriend who seemed equally as shocked, but he didn’t say anything. She then started to go on about my hair being “too curly.” She told me that I really need to learn how to run a brush through my hair and think about my appearance more when I am out with her son.
Then when I didn’t eat much at dinner, she gave me her version of a compliment. I was told it was good that I am watching what I eat because it would be a shame if I got any bigger. This was just my first meeting with this woman. As soon as I got into my car, I burst into tears until I got home. My boyfriend was texting me and apologizing for his mother’s behavior, but the damage was done.
I told him I needed time to think. He went into apology overload after this and started sending flowers to my office every day and leaving me messages begging me to talk to him. I finally agreed and we went out to dinner. He told me he spoke with his mother about her inappropriate comments and he swore it would never happen again.
With this reassurance, I decided to give it another chance. Fast forward two weeks to when he invited me to come to a family birthday party. This time I would also be meeting his sisters and grandparents. His grandparents and sisters are awesome people. They asked me normal questions about my job, family, and friends. His mother seemed to be avoiding me throughout the evening and honestly, I was okay with that.
I went to grab something from my purse and noticed that it was not where I left it. I looked everywhere but I could not find it. I went and asked my boyfriend and he began to help me look. He then got a strange look on his face and he quickly went upstairs. I could then hear a lot of yelling begin upstairs. He came back down holding my purse after a few minutes and told me that we were leaving.
Once we got in the car, I asked him what was going on. Apparently, his mother had taken my purse so that she could see my driver’s license. She intended to try and run a background check on me. He told me she had told him this earlier but honestly had thought she was joking. I thought that it was best if I avoided any of his family functions for the time being.
This worked out great for a while and he went to any of his family parties alone. He would ask me each time before leaving if I was sure that I didn’t want to go, but I always declined. Last week, his family had their family reunion and he asked me to please come with him. I was very reluctant but considering there would be so many people present, I didn’t think she would pull anything.
When we got there, everything was going great. I met his extended family and got to catch up with his sisters. His mother did seem to be shooting me glares all night, but I brushed it off. Soon she came over and joined a table I was seated at with his sisters and some cousins. The conversation was pleasant as we were talking about his sisters’ children.
His sister has a daughter who is 12 and is the same age as my niece. I then showed his sister a picture of my niece on my phone. His mother took a look at the screen and began to laugh. She told me she hopes that if her son and I ever have children that they don’t look like my niece. My niece is beautiful by the way, and she is only 12 years old.
What kind of monster attacks a 12-year-old child’s appearance? This was my breaking point and I went off like a volcano. I started to scream at her and told her she is the evilest person I have ever had to misfortune to meet. I told her if I ever did have children with her son, she can be certain she will never meet them, I’d make sure of that.
I am not 100% certain of exactly everything that I said, but from what his younger sister later said, “It was epic.” His mom began to play the victim and wailed that I had just misunderstood her joke. My boyfriend came rushing over at this point and she threw herself into his arms, telling him I am a horrible woman and he needed to throw me out right now.
He told her that wasn’t going to happen and to stop making a fool of herself. She seemed to accept this for a moment and sat back down. She just kept sobbing that I just didn’t understand how to take a joke. Then something in her snapped as she noticed something that my boyfriend was holding in his hand. She began to have another meltdown.
I didn’t understand what was happening at this point and just stood there watching a grown woman pitch a fit like a toddler. None of what she was saying made any sense to me as it was mostly just incoherent screaming, but I did pick up on many derogatory comments directed my way. My boyfriend then told me we were leaving and to grab my things.
As I started to get ready, she made a lunge for my boyfriend’s hand and grabbed the small box he was holding. She looked me in the eyes and said, “You will never have this ring you little witch.” She ran outside and threw the box down a storm drain. Turns out that my boyfriend was intending on proposing to me. He had just obtained his grandmother’s ring while we were at the reunion.
His grandmother is completely heartbroken because now her ring is down a storm drain instead of continuing on in the family as she had always wanted. I don’t know where to go from here. I am devastated, confused, and exhausted.
71. Happy Birthday To Me
When I was first married, money wasn’t that easy to come by, as I had a form of leukemia that took up most of our money. Due to this, we couldn’t just spend money like we wanted to. God bless my husband for being such a sweetheart. We were only in our early 20s and he still pushed through this for us. December 23rd is my mother’s birthday.
She is an awful person, by the way. For example, she tried to get me pregnant at 14 because she wanted more money from the state, but that’s an entirely different story. As this was 20 years ago, we didn’t really have the same type of cell phones we have today, so I didn’t know until I got home from cancer treatment that my mom had called me multiple times.
Three minutes later (I counted) she shows up at the door. She asks for her money. Both of us are confused, of course. Apparently, she wants her birthday money, which I’ve never given before to her. In fact, she wanted 608 dollars. That exact amount. When I told her no, we can’t afford that, she lost it. Screaming at me, calling me an entitled witch.
She gave birth to me so I should do what she says. And then I say I’m an adult and I don’t have to listen. After all, I was angry and tired and I just threw up a few minutes ago. This set her off. She grabbed a kitchen knife and ran at me, while my husband is trying to hold her back. She got me right between two ribs, but didn’t pierce any organs, thank God.
I don’t know what happened in my husband’s mind at this point, but he snapped. He broke her arm backward in a rage while screaming something I don’t even think was a human language. He called the authorities and she was detained while I was taken to the hospital. She got sentenced to seven years, while I moved out and moved to Louisiana.
72. Sweet And Soured
I am 17 and live in the UK, and this happened around December of last year in a Lidl, which is a grocery store. My mom asked me to go grocery shopping because she was quite busy with something and I agreed to go. I spent around 10 minutes at the Lidl looking for things on the shopping list. While there, I decided to get a treat for myself because why not.
I got some Fin Carré chocolate and made my way to the till. I was standing in line while using my phone just minding my business until this overly loud parent with her very hyperactive kid, who looked around eight, came behind me in the line. Mother: “You wouldn’t mind letting us go in front of you, would you?” I looked down on her cart, which seemed to be a lot more full than mine.
Still, I decided I’m not in a rush, and I replied “sure” and subtly smiled. She thanked me and went on to go in front of me. My impression of this woman seemed normal…until this happened. The kid said as he was pointing to my cart: “Mom, look it’s that chocolate that you promised me to buy next time we go shopping.” Mom: “Oh yes darling I just remembered.”
She then looked up to me and said, “May I grab the chocolate bar? The little one’s been eager to get it.” Now, this chocolate is somewhat far from the tills in this location, so getting a new chocolate bar for myself would’ve been a chore. I replied: “I’m sorry I don’t think I can give you the chocolate, it’s quite far from the tills.”
Her smile quickly turned into a stare and she said in a loud voice: “Right, I don’t care how far this chocolate is from here, someone like you is more than capable of getting a new bar, so stop making George cross!” I replied: “I don’t care how capable I am, I’m not going anywhere and this chocolate is staying in the cart.” Now, there was a lot going through my head at this point, but I remember how the kid was reaching inside my cart, trying to grab the chocolate.
I quickly grabbed it myself and held it in my hand. Kid: “Mom, the guy took the chocolate!” Mom: “Right, I’ve had enough.” This woman literally reached to my hand to grab the chocolate, but I moved in time and decided to go directly to the cashier and ask him to call a manager. The cashier seemed to have witnessed everything and informed the manager about what happened.
After no more than two minutes of me awkwardly standing, the manager arrives. She walks up to the mother and quietly asks her to leave. However, the mother kept trying to incriminate me somehow until she finally paid for her groceries and left. Me, the cashier, and the manager all had a laugh about it after she left. Now that I think about it, that scene wasn’t worth a chocolate bar, but oh well.
73. Too Hot To Handle
So I was standing in line at the checkout at my local supermarket. It was a SUPER heatwave around this time, just scorching outside. I think in total I had about 10 items, some frozen goods, drinks, and snacks. While in line, I usually tend to take out one of the buds of my earphones in case someone calls out to me. At this time, the woman at the cash register was taking care of the payment of one client.
There was one person in front of me, and then suddenly she appeared—the entitled mother. Now honestly, she didn’t look it. She didn’t even give off a mean vibe or anything. Even the way she started talking to me was overall nice and polite, AT FIRST. “Excuse me, do you mind if I skip ahead? I’m in a hurry.” Now in general if somebody politely asks me this and I don’t have any urgent business of my own, I usually don’t mind.
This time, however, I didn’t have that many groceries, so her delay would be at most a few minutes, while she was pushing a fully loaded shopping cart in front of her. If I would have let her skip, I’d probably still be in the store for another 10-20 minutes. So I politely decline and tell her I will hurry as much as I can. Of course, this was a great offense; I hadn’t given this woman what she was entitled to. She blew up instantly.
Yelling and screaming at me that she was in a hurry and (not kidding here) had to be home in time for her shows. This is important a bit later. Now while this woman was going off, the person at the cash register went into ignore mode and just started scanning my groceries, which I loaded into a bag while she was going on about how I was garbage and they should me ban me from the store.
This should have been the end of it, but then she said something that made me almost want to throttle her. While I was walking away, just about to put the earbud back in, she yells, “If you pass by my car, tell my son he’s the reason he has to wait another half an hour for me.” Now I’m not an extremely smart person, but in this moment my brain made some connections quickly.
What I realized was this: One, it was very hot outside. Two, this woman had been in the store for a while, judging by the number of her groceries. Three, the entire parking lot of this store had almost no shade. Four, it was about 2 pm, so the sun was just over its peak. I rush outside and start running past cars, scanning them for kids inside.
Thankfully, one of the first cars I pass has a small child laying in the back seat. This kid is as pale as a ghost, sweating like crazy, and it looked like he was only half-conscious. I run back inside, and to my utter astonishment, this witch is having a conversation with the cashier while she’s checking out her groceries. I grab her by the shoulders, spin her around, and yell almost straight to her face that her kid is literally dying in the car.
At first, she looked at me in complete confusion, probably never having been spoken to like that before in her life. Then the realization of what I told her sunk in and she rushed outside. While she went outside, a man tapped me on the shoulder and asked what had happened. I explained the situation but left out some details, just saying I saw the kid in the car and knew that this woman was probably the owner.
He went outside and when I came outside, the mother suddenly rushed me and got in my face, saying I was the reason she was in the store for so long and her son’s current condition was my fault. Before I can even respond, the man that approached me earlier speaks up. Turns out, this man was an off-duty officer and had been in the store for a while.
As a result, he knew that the actual delay I “caused” could have not caused this. He also said he had already called an ambulance for the kid and the authorities for her. I don’t know what happened to the woman, but she completely crashed. She just sat down on the pavement and started shaking her head, not saying much except the occasional sob or “not my fault.”
As for the ending: everything turned out okay for most parties. I stayed a while to give a statement and my contact information in case it went to court. The kid was okay (afterward) and since his mom got detained, they called his dad or another male family member (I didn’t ask) to accompany him to the hospital. As for the mother, I’m assuming she is going to have to stand trial for child endangerment.
74. Happy Now?
This story is from a few years ago when I worked in the law department of a 1,000+ store national retailer. As part of my job, I handled customer complaints that elevated when the customer threatened court action. The cast is very simple: Our customer service call center forwarded this entitled mom’s call to me after she threatened action.
This woman left a message claiming that she was not provided $10 in customer reward coupons through the mail based on her purchase of clothing for her son and daughter for back to school. I looked into it and called her back. It turned out we had an old address associated with her rewards account. No big deal, right? I spoke with her and offered to send her the original $10 coupon and an additional $25 for her trouble to the correct address.
That did not satisfy her. She claimed we should have known her address and threatened to sue us if we didn’t pay her $1,000 in cash. Her rationale was that it would cost us at least $1,000 to defend the suit, so we should just pay it to her. I declined, but still forwarded her the $10 coupon she was entitled to based on our rewards program.
Sure enough, she sued us for breach of contract and any other conceivable charge. I went to my boss, the COO, and told him the story. He asked what I wanted to do. I said I’d rather pay fees to a defense attorney than pay her, and he agreed. I contacted this attorney, explained the situation to him, and I kid you not he said (in a Southern drawl): “I get to sue her? I should be paying you guys.”
Yep, he knew her. As he said, “There are a lot of lawyers in this community who would love to sue her as she is reckless, unpleasant, and a total pain in the butt to deal with. I’ll gladly take your case.” This is how I knew it was going to be good: He even agreed to defend us at a reduced rate. Part of our defense strategy was to counter-sue her under the state’s frivolous lawsuit statute, which would move the suit from small claims court to the larger civil court.
The lawyer filed our answer and counter-claim. Although this entitled woman was also an attorney, she was not a defense attorney, so she had to engage her own attorney to defend against the counter-claim. After a couple of hearings, she offered to settle for no more money exchanged (she didn’t even get the extra $25 coupon I offered her), and the dismissal of both suits.
I talked with our lawyer about continuing our claim, but he advised it would probably be worth settling and being done with it rather than being vindictive. Although vindictive would have been fun, courts tend not to like that, that so I agreed. My company ended up paying him $900 in attorneys’ fees, but he later called and told us that the attorney she engaged had charged her $1,700 to defend the suit.
Although I would have liked to continue with our suit, I think her having to pay $1,700 over a $10 coupon sent to the wrong address is sufficient justice for this woman.
75. This Old House
This is really about an entire entitled family. My fiancé, Nathan, passed very unexpectedly in 2016, at the age of 35. I was 26 at the time. We lived together in a house on a few acres; I’d lived there for a couple of years, and he had lived there most of his life. His grandfather built the house, and when his grandparents passed, the house was willed to their six children, one of whom was Nathan’s mother.
When his mother passed, her share was willed to Nathan and his two siblings, so he was a partial owner of the home. His aunt, Rita, also lived there. She was mentally unstable in many ways I won’t get into, except to say that she was a serious hoarder. Consequently, the house was in disrepair. Honestly, it was not fit to be lived in and could’ve easily been condemned, but it was a rough time. Please spare your judgment if you can.
Nathan and I were in the process of getting an apartment when he passed. Since Nathan and Rita were the only partial owners living there, they paid all the property taxes and repairs, etc. (I contributed too after I moved in.) It’s not like Nathan and I were just squatting there or something. A couple of months before he passed, Rita had some health issues that resulted in her being hospitalized and then moving into an apartment.
That’s when the entitled family—aunts, uncles, and cousins—swooped in and started demanding that we move out so they could sell the property. Okay, fine. We were planning on moving anyway. They were really unrealistic about the timeline, though. At one point they insisted that since we were low-income, all we needed to do was contact “The Government” (they weren’t sure what department), and they’d just give us a small house and some land.
That’s how out of touch with reality these people were. They’d just show up in the house whenever they wanted, which I guess was their right, but it’s also pretty rude and entitled to just come into someone’s home on a regular basis without even speaking to them while you’re there, much less letting them know beforehand. Anyway, when Nathan passed, they were unabashedly elated.
Two days afterward, I was at the house collecting some of my things when I got a text from his sister Anna (who is an angel) saying that they’d messaged his out-of-state uncle’s wife, asking her to message Anna about me because God forbid anyone be direct. Apparently, they wanted me banned from the property immediately. See, we’d been “living in sin,” and now that he was gone, I had no reason or right to be there. I was devastated.
At that point, I wanted to take everything he’d ever touched and scoop it up and hold it close to me forever. I couldn’t bear the thought of not being able to have anything of his. As an afterthought, I realized all of MY stuff was also still there. Luckily, Anna stuck up for me and said I could be there as long as I wanted. She lives across the country though, so she couldn’t do much to enforce it. The most egregious display of disgusting entitlement happened a couple of days later.
I was at the house, frantically trying to load up the car with the things that made up the life that Nathan and I shared together, which was taxing both physically and emotionally. I was crying when his cousin Erica appeared in our bedroom. Erica: smiling like I’m an old friend she just ran into at Costco HEY! Isn’t this CRAZY? Nathan passed so suddenly! He was fine a few days ago! (It was either sepsis or a pulmonary embolism. The hospital said one thing, the examiner said another.)
Me: through tears Yeah. It was very unexpected. Erica: laughing I know! Well, at least we can sell this dump now. It’s then that I hear people talking and laughing in the next room. Apparently, Erica had brought her teenage daughter and several of her daughter’s friends to gawk at the house. Our home, where we lived and loved, was being openly mocked with zero regard for my feelings.
Erica: So when do you think you’ll be gone? Me: I’m not sure. I’d like to get as much of his stuff as possible, and Anna asked me to get some of their mom’s things. Erica: frowning Well, I guess I’ll have to talk to Anna about that. Their mom is the reason this place is so run down, you know. laughing again I don’t see why Anna would want any of this garbage!
Note that this is blatantly false, as the house had been in pristine condition until Nathan’s mother passed and Rita’s hoarding worsened to the point that Nathan could not keep up with it. Also, there were plenty of keepsakes and heirlooms that were not at all “garbage.” I’m sort of dumbfounded by this whole exchange and way too emotionally drained to deal with it, so I just get back to what I was doing.
Later that night, Erica’s sister messaged me asking what I’d done with Rita’s box of plastic horses because Rita wanted them back immediately. Of course, I had not taken it. Why would I want a box of plastic horses? (Hint: I would not.) I elected not to reply. After that, they got more aggressive about me not being there because I was a plastic horse thief.
Nathan was an artist by trade, and they started just throwing away all of his drawings and taking some of the more valuable figurines he had. The last day I was there, my mom went with me. After getting the last of what I could, I just wanted to walk around the house one last time and sort of say goodbye to the place we’d spent so much time together in, a place I’d never be again.
Of course, the family showed up, and my mom tried to calmly explain that I would be out soon and would not return. She tried to appeal to their sense of humanity by explaining how traumatized I was and how I just needed this for some semblance of closure. Their response was chilling. His aunt got in her face and lectured her about how Nathan was in hell and I’d be going there too.
Then my mom, who somehow managed not to knock her teeth out, reminded her that Anna had told me I could be there. The aunt responded by calling the authorities to have me forcibly removed. We left before they arrived, and now that’s my final memory of the place where the most amazing man I’ve ever known taught me how to love.
76. Going Away For A Long Time
Recently, my dad was apprehended and taken to a secure hospital for mental health just before Christmas. He abandoned me as a baby and has five children who he doesn’t see. He has been officially diagnosed with narcissistic personality disorder and is deteriorating fast with his newly developed case of dementia. The craziest part? He’ll never get out again.
It’s clear that he will now spend the rest of his life in a secure unit. My mother has now changed her name back to her maiden name to cut off any apparent connection to him. She is also changing all the bills into her own name. She is done with him forever. I am also done with him forever. And yet, there’s one thing that’s still bothering me. I am starting to feel a pang of sadness for him. He is all alone, locked up, and no one wants to see him.
Should I go and see him one last time? Or will it be too painful? My dad isn’t fully “gone” yet. But the social worker said he is deteriorating by the week now. Oh yes, and it turns out my dear father fought my mother in court over maintenance for me and my brother. And because he paid for the best lawyers he could, he was ordered to pay 50 pence a week for us for our mother to take care of us while he didn’t have to.
As a result, my mother suffered for years and we lived in poverty. Meanwhile, he drove Jaguars and carried on with his fancy lifestyle.
77. Four Weddings And A Funeral
I work for the troops, which is semi-important to the story. My sister is going through the same training that I went through. With that said, I only get x amount of vacation days a month each month and, like most things, I can’t go into the negatives of accumulated days. My sister is graduating from boot camp next week and wants me to go and attend the ceremony.
One issue is that I’m getting married in March, and I’m taking a lot of vacation days for the celebration. But also, I want to be there for my sister on her big day. But due to financial and vacation day issues, I can’t go to both the graduation and my wedding. I’m going back home for my wedding, which will be very expensive and time-consuming, so both are simply not possible.
Now, right after graduating, my sister will have to go to tech school (training class for her job) and she’ll be in training for at least two more months. And then more training at her first base. The only time she’d be able to take vacation during that time at all is two weeks in between her going from her tech school base to her first base. After that, she’s in training for at least six months straight. Here’s where my dad comes in…and makes everything a problem.
My dad wants me to reschedule the wedding so that I can go to the graduation, and so that she can go to the wedding. Ordinarily, this would make perfect sense, but everything is already paid for and booked and has been for a while now. After I told my father about these issues, he said something so to “pull the veteran card to reschedule and get a refund.”
Now, I barely even like asking for discounts at places, let alone doing something like this. After I said I wouldn’t do that, he dug in even further. He started guilt-tripping me and saying I’m a bad brother because I wouldn’t reschedule my wedding so that my sister could go and so that I could go to her graduation. He goes to these extremes every time he brings it up.
I keep telling him that I can’t do anything about it and he makes the guilt-tripping even worse. I just don’t know what to do anymore. He’s had people in our family who are veterans yell at him, basically backing me up and saying the same thing, but he just basically ignores it. I just want this to be done and over with because this has been stressing me out so bad that it’s affecting my personal and work life.
It is putting my stress and anxiety through the roof.
78. Your Mini-Me
My father-in-law is a jerk to our baby. A little backstory: my father-in-law hates me for no real reason. My husband suspects it is because I am not as submissive as he expects women to be. My husband also says it is because I have an advanced degree, a good job, and I was well-established with my own home before I met my husband. He says this “intimidates” his dad.
In terms of how he treats me, he basically ignores me entirely, even when I talk directly to him. So I basically just don’t talk to him anymore, because what’s the point? I don’t particularly like how he treats my husband either. He makes him feel guilty for not spending time with him, but the man NEVER calls or comes to see us either.
The phone and roads work both ways. My husband’s mother, who lives 2,000 miles away, has visited us more than his dad has, who is only a 40-minute drive away. Anyway, to get to the point, we had a baby six weeks ago. His dad did come visit us in the hospital, which was honestly a shock to me. I was exhausted, but I kept a smile on my face and tried to engage him.
His reaction was chilling. He came in the door, didn’t even glance at the baby, sat in a chair, and watched football on the TV. His wife even told him to look at the baby and hold her, to which he simply said “I’ve seen pictures” and went on watching football and talking about his fantasy league. He didn’t ask us anything about how the labor or delivery went, whether we needed anything, if she was healthy, ANYTHING. Just football.
When he left, my husband got teary-eyed and said to the baby: “I’m sorry your grandpa is so rude, baby girl,” and I literally burst into tears. Granted, I had been up for nearly 40 hours at this point. But still. There’s something else that really grinds my gears. He has nine other grandkids and he is not like this towards any of them. For example, he has posted to Facebook with a photo holding them at all their births.
He posts photos of them all the time, brings them presents, etc. He dotes on them. But he is ambivalent and rude to our baby? Just because he doesn’t like me? She is a BABY! She has done nothing to deserve that. It’s heartbreaking. I told my husband I was never going out of my way to see that man again and he agreed there’s no point of putting in extra effort, but I know he is hurt.
This was six weeks ago and I’m still so mad about it. Every time my husband mentions him, I just see red. As if that wasn’t bad enough already, there is another part of the story that paints the picture even better. After she was born, our daughter had to stay in the hospital for an extra five days and was nearly admitted to the newborn ICU.
My Facebook is pretty small. I basically only have friends and close family members on there. So I had been using it to keep everyone updated, but not with the specific details. Just posts like “We are still in the hospital, but hope to be home soon. Thanks for everyone’s support.” The man NEVER called his son the entire week to even see what was wrong, if she was home, when she was coming home, etc.
UGH! That jerk! Suffice it to say that I am very hurt by his actions and I definitely don’t want to associate with him anymore.
79. Finding The Way To Grandma’s House
My dad has bipolar disorder and paranoid schizophrenia. It didn’t really hit him until he was in his teens. He managed to mask the symptoms for years with substances, as did my mom—she’s a whole other can of worms. My grandma is no longer able to take care of herself and function. She has two living sons, HJ (my dad) and Greedy Gambler (my uncle).
Her oldest son passed from lung cancer in 2010 I want to believe. Her two remaining sons are both terrible people. For the past 15 years, HJ has emotionally manipulated and harmed me. And I’ve been taking it because I truly believe that his mental illnesses are the reason that he is like this. Until one month ago. HJ called me after not speaking with me for months because he is now homeless.
I told him Gram was sick. His reaction was devastating. He said he didn’t care. He needed to stay in her condo and “I don’t care if she dies, but I’ll get the condo as part of my inheritance.” Y’all, I lost my mind. I called him a deranged, worthless substance user and I ordered him never to call me again. I hung up and blocked him on everything.
Two days later, a social worker from a hospital calls and wants to talk about him. I declined, but told her that he would work best in a permanent mental facility. She agreed, but informed me that HJ has declined all help. I told her that I still wasn’t interested in ever talking to him again, and that was the end of it. I really do feel free now.
I am content with the knowledge that my kids will never see him again. It’s been three years since. And they will never hear about him either. Also, in case you are wondering, his nickname comes from the time when HJ thought he was Jesus for six months. Yea, he literally believed he was the reincarnation of Jesus. He even made a LinkedIn page for it. That’s why his nickname now is “Hypochondriac Jesus.”
Then, something happened that I knew was coming sooner or later. My grandma has dementia, so I have been getting her condo ready for a while now for when she passes. It’s finally ready to sell and everything has been replaced, including the carpet, showerheads, repaired appliances, etc. All of the furniture is out and it’s completely empty.
Cue HJ. He has been homeless for about a month now. He has refused all help from social workers and myself for the last 15 years. He was offered a room in a rehabilitation facility and a long-term facility and he refused both. So, in his genius, he decided to try and break into my grandma’s condo. Which would have worked, except for one small detail…
He couldn’t remember what unit he was supposed to be in, and so he broke into a random family’s home and scared the daylights out of the kids. He was thrown behind bars very quickly, where he remains to this day.
80. Saying Goodbye
My husband and I were talking about my oldest son’s biological family today and this story came up. It’s only one of many with this awful man, but it is also one of the last we will ever have since it truly opened my eyes up to who he really is. Back story: this was in October of 2014. My mom had both small and non-small cell lung cancer, and she had been taken by an ambulance to a nearby hospital ICU.
She told me I didn’t need to come, but soon after I got a call from the hospital saying it was urgent and that I needed to be there. So I dropped everything and went. I don’t remember how my then-eight-year-old son got into the care of his grandfather, i.e. my father-in-law, that day. I may have called my ex and asked him to get our son.
Anyway, when I get to the hospital, the doctor tells me that it’s over and that we need to put her on morphine and to let her go over the weekend. This was a shock to me at 26 years old, having to handle this. But the first thing I did was call my ex and ask him to get my son to the hospital as quickly as possible because my mom was not going to be around much longer.
Within an hour, they had intubated her and put her on life support. We never heard her voice again. Eventually, my idiot father-in-law shows up with my son. A full hour and a half after I had called. I was sitting in the hallway sobbing, and neither myself nor my son was allowed in the room at the moment, so I hugged my boy and asked my father-in-law to just take him home.
My mom was gone within ten days. So, fast forward about six weeks. My son and I are preparing to spend our very first Christmas without my mom. Holidays were always hosted at my mom’s house. I get a text from my father-in-law saying that he would like to spend Christmas morning with my son, between 9:00 and 11:00 AM. I told him that this wouldn’t work for us, but 1:00 to 3:00 PM would be better. His reaction was truly deranged.
He Flew. Off. The. Handle. He tells me the afternoon doesn’t work for him because he’s driving to Temecula to see his wife’s family at 11:00 AM. Oh boy, a whole two-hour drive! So he insists that he HAS to see my son in the morning. I say that I’m sorry, but that this won’t work for us and that we’ll have to find another time or day.
Now, this is after literally eight years of battling this man and being called every rotten name you can think of by him because I don’t let him have his way with my son. I’ve had it at this point. But, here is the quote that made me go from hating him to wishing he was no longer alive. He told me: “I can’t believe you! You’re such a selfish witch always keeping your son away from us. He’s going to hate you when he’s older and realizes what a loser you are. You’re such a jerk you couldn’t even say thank you after I brought him to the hospital!”
Oh no, you did not. You took an hour and a half to get there and erased the opportunity for my son and mom to say goodbye to each other, and you expect me to thank you for that? And what normal, rational, or caring person would even expect a thank you while I was sobbing on the hallway floor in the ICU?! I responded by calling him a lowlife and saying that I didn’t owe him anything, and that if he wanted to see his grandson he’d have to coordinate that through his deadbeat son.
I blocked him and he stayed blocked on everything of mine for nearly two years.
81. Emergency Meeting
Buckle up kiddies. This story is absolutely ridiculous. So, my boyfriend just had a talk with his parents about his dad’s behavior this morning. They flat out admitted that they’ve been cold to me on purpose this whole time. So, since I am getting the conversation secondhand, here were some of my FAVORITE highlights: A) They know they’ve been cold to me.
So all the ignoring my greetings and being short with me that I thought I had picked up on? Intentional. Good to know. B) Apparently, they don’t feel like I’ve put in enough effort to get to know them?? Um, according to my boyfriend, when we started dating during our senior year of high school, his father-in-law admittedly had no desire to get to know me since I “wouldn’t be around for long, so what was the point?”
Like, how do you treat someone like that when you first meet them and then get all angry later when they’ve just kept to themselves in the time since? I can remember multiple times when my boyfriend had told me about conversations where his dad told him to date other girls BEFORE he told him he would do anything to get him to break up with me. So… you think I’m the cold one? Okay, and it just gets better from here.
C) They liked how my boyfriend’s brother’s ex helped them out more than I did. Um, excuse me? I can distinctly remember my father-in-law leaving the kitchen a mess on Thanksgiving last year, and just to be helpful, I went and did the dishes for them all by myself. Even after dinners that we have with them now, my boyfriend and I always clean up and do dishes together, so I don’t know where the heck they got that idea.
Also, my boyfriend’s brother’s ex was going around defaming him with false accusations. Like she’s a full-blown psycho, but my father-in-law still has a silly nostalgic love for her and the days when she had not yet gone crazy. D) They want to just start over with a clean slate with me, after talking to my boyfriend like he’s my personal spokesperson. That’s freaking cute.
An apology to him is not an apology to me. They have said so many nasty things and been so cold to me when I have been nothing but polite to them. And they think by my boyfriend confronting them about their lousy behavior means the slate is just wiped clean? Um… no one asked my opinion on this. I told my boyfriend that while I appreciate that he spoke to his parents, in no uncertain terms am I just hunky-dory and okay with them now because they realized they’ve been bad.
Not only that, but I am disappointed that he would be manipulated into believing that it would be okay. So anyway, those were some of the fan favorites from the conversation. There were so many others, but through the tears, while I was having this conversation relayed to me after the fact, those were the only ones that I could easily remember clearly.
But before I go, I almost forgot this part, which completely blew my mind. They genuinely want my boyfriend to go over their “house rules” with me, since I keep breaking them. For the love of god almighty. I AM AN ADULT. No one needs to pander to me about how I should and should not behave. I’ve realized a few things after this experience.
I think my father-in-law has extremely controlling behavior that he has instilled in his family. He has clearly convinced all of them that he is the be-all and end all of their existence. I didn’t think I wanted my boyfriend to have to go to see a counselor, until now. Honestly, after this experience, I might make couples therapy a requirement before we consider getting married.
82. A Quick Fix
My father-in-law just told me he thinks he could fix my mental illness by “dominating me.” I was recently diagnosed with bipolar disorder and I just started lithium. I’ve had several diagnoses over the years and have been on a bunch of SSRIs, done talk therapy, etc. The bipolar diagnosis definitely explains the missing piece of the puzzle of my life.
Anyway, my husband was talking to his parents recently and mentioned that I had been recently diagnosed with bipolar disorder, and that it’s been pretty hard on everyone. I’ve been in a manic phase recently and, with an 8.5-month-old baby, that comes out as a lot of anger. His mom contacted me right away saying that she loves me, is there for me, etc.
Last night, my husband got a message from his dad—and when he read it, his jaw dropped. It linked to a post by this idiot on Facebook describing how, in his opinion, women’s problems today are a rebellion against men not benevolently dominating them. My husband responds by calling the guy an idiot. And, of course, that’s where the fun begins.
It was all downhill from there. My father-in-law goes on a whole rant, talking about how the only way my husband can “fix” me is by “dominating” me. Apparently, bipolar is just a fancy way of saying I talk back? And the only way to fix that is for my husband to be an “alpha” and tell me what’s what. Sounds like a perfectly reasonable plan for dealing with a diagnosed medical condition, right?
For some background, I have a PhD in biological science and am a tenured track professor at a big R1 University. My husband stays home with our baby and is a nurse. My father-in-law told us at our baby shower that this arrangement would never work because I would resent my husband and eventually cheat on him. He also sent lengthy messages with nonsense articles telling my husband not to vaccinate our newborn son.
Like dude, pay attention to your own mess of a life before you start dishing out advice to other people.
83. An International Case
My father has secret post-it notes about traveling to other countries, and randomly took out life insurance on my mother. My mom woke me up this morning to share her snoop findings, since my dad was supposedly up at his parents’ place visiting because his father had just been in the hospital over the weekend. It’s been probably three weeks now since my mother got the divorce paperwork and since he last mentioned finding an apartment.
They’re supposed to have a “simple” and quick divorce, where they both agree to the terms in the paperwork, but everyone thinks my mom is being too easy on him. She’s rethinking her decision to not get a lawyer after what she found out today. She found a folder hiding underneath a bunch of stuff on his desk with a pile of post-it notes inside of it.
There are so many, with so much random stuff written on them. His handwriting is really awful, too. It always has been, but this makes it difficult for us to decipher some of the stuff. The really suspicious things come in the form of what seems to be usernames, the top one being a string of euphemisms for having big private parts. Pretty disturbing stuff.
There’s also a note about someone’s height and weight, in the form of centimeters and kilograms, like he has to keep track of… what they look like, I guess? The worst part, I think, is the note where he has information about how many miles it would take to get from a town in Latvia to a town in Russia, and then how many miles and hours from Boston it would take to get to both of these places.
She also found bank receipts from last month for an account he must have opened for himself without telling her about. Looks like he’s depositing his overtime money into it. Some of the other notes consisted of what seemed to be song names, bands that he wouldn’t usually listen to in a million years. He’s a serious country music person and used to tell me when I was younger that the rock music I liked is the “devil’s music,” yet all of the bands referenced in his notes were rock bands.
One had nothing but the words “padaschdi” and “wait” written on it. From what I understand, “padaschdi” is just a translation of “wait.” But why write the same thing out in two languages? He also had another “I love you” written in Italian, with some other words above it that none of us have really been able to clearly decipher.
These new findings all come after I learned on Christmas that he took out a life insurance policy on my mother, after his secrets came out and they decided to divorce. She also already had one, and he knows this! HOW SUSPICIOUS IS THAT? Our lives are starting to feel like an episode of a show on the detective channel, and I absolutely hate it.
84. Setting Off A Firestorm
To preface, I’m a female who happens to like sports. Mainly hockey and American football, but I’ll watch basketball and baseball in the playoffs, and I understand baseball better than the average girl thanks to my idiot of an ex. My husband likes sports too, but I’m definitely the bigger “fan.” We also both played hockey, and my husband was also forced to do Little League.
Who forced him, you ask? My one and only father-in-law, who I lovingly refer to “Hagar the Horrible.” Hagar forced my husband to play Little League until my mother-in-law put her foot down, because my husband would come home crying over the fact that he hated it so much. Hagar was the coach and screamed at his players non-stop, so go figure.
When his mother got involved, he was finally allowed to quit. Anyway, point being, we both know and like sports, me possibly even more than my husband. Hagar considers yacht racing a sport, so he claims that he does sports all the time, even though the owner of the boat and his crew are the ones doing the work while Hagar just makes drinks and snacks and sometimes gets to steer for a couple of seconds.
He is also, obviously, all-knowing about all sports, including ones he didn’t even know existed until the Olympics. It turns into one of the many things I’ve given up trying to correct him on, and I just roll my eyes at him being confused about why the sport we’re watching isn’t being played by his rules. My husband and I randomly decided to go to a baseball game this last Sunday, partly to get away from Hagar and his obnoxious new girlfriend, and partly because I’d never been to the nearby stadium and the tickets were cheap.
In my opinion, baseball is much more entertaining at the game than watching it on TV, but I’ve also been spoiled by some pretty awesome stadiums. The game was exciting, the stadium was as great as I’d heard, and we had some amazing dumplings afterward. The next day, Hagar decided to try and be an idiot jerk about it. Not really sure why, since he knows I like sports.
Him: “Hey Daughter-in-law, did you like the game?” Me: “Yeah, it was–” Him: “Did you understand what was going on? I’m sure it was confusing.” Me: “…Yes, I–” Him: “I’m surprised my son talked you into going.” I was pretty over it at this point and was just going to make a non-committal grunt noise in his general direction, but my husband piped up at this point.
My Husband: “Actually, she is the one who wanted to go. She picked out the seats and paid for them. We had a great view and the game was a lot of fun!” So I decided to chime in just to shame Hagar a little further, since he was already taken aback. Me: “Yeah, I’ve never seen so many pitching changes, and we even got to see a splash homer. The ump was being a little bit generous with his strike zone though. Dinner was great too. Too bad you couldn’t come.”
Hagar walked away grumbling and seemed upset the rest of the night. I know it was sort of because he was politely told to screw off after talking down to me, but also because the reason he couldn’t come was that there was a major regatta that I didn’t ask about and his boat didn’t do well in it. We unfortunately didn’t know about it until after I bought the tickets, or I would’ve picked a different weekend when he was actually going to be around. Small victories.
Hagar also lies constantly, but he’s not very good at it. There was one day, though, where his lies were even more laughable than usual. Basically, everything that comes out of his mouth has to be taken with a grain of salt, and if my husband and I are genuinely curious about what the truth is, we try and ask someone else who was actually there whenever possible.
Well, on this one particularly bad day, Hagar decided to try and lie to my husband about events that had allegedly happened the night before. He thought I wasn’t listening, and so he lied despite the fact that I was there for everything that he was trying to lie about. First off, he tried telling my husband that our neighbor’s wife came over and told him that the lawn had caught fire, but they put it out.
I say neighbor’s wife because she doesn’t live there herself and only comes over when the kids and grandkids come over to use the pool and BBQ. So she probably wasn’t there to begin with on a random Wednesday night. Hagar then said that he had to talk to the authorities, because apparently, another neighbors’ lawn had caught fire, so they were investigating arson in the neighborhood.
My husband is supremely confused at this point and asks Hagar where we were when all this was going on, and Hagar says that we were in bed. My husband then asks what time it was, because unless we seriously were erased from the world, we would have heard the neighbor and then the officers knocking on the door and then having a conversation with Hagar.
Hagar is practically deaf and can barely hear his TV unless it’s at full volume, so I doubt he would have heard the door, especially given the circumstances. Hagar said it was at around 6:00 or 7:00 in the evening. It was at this point that I had to leave to crack up, and a minute later Hagar dragged my husband outside to “examine the arson damage.”
So, besides probably lying about the neighbor and the officers coming, there are sooooo many other lies he told that I seriously don’t know how he thought he could get away with it. He was sort of nice to me earlier that week and had taken me to a doctor’s appointment. I’m pretty sure that my husband threatened to close down the family shop and take me himself if Hagar didn’t do it.
You may ask why Hagar wasn’t at the shop himself. It’s because he always goes sailing on Wednesdays. It was also his friend’s birthday this week, who is the owner of the boat, so he didn’t even get home until close to 9:00 at night. That’s right, the jerk WASN’T EVEN HOME when he claims that my husband and I were in bed and he was talking to an officer about arson.
My husband has it in his cell phone’s call log that Hagar called at 8:48 to say he was home and ask if there was anything to eat. My husband and I didn’t even start cooking our dinner until around 7:00, and I promise that we did not do it in our sleep. But it gets even more ridiculous. When he dragged my husband outside to “examine the evidence,” my husband was able to point out that it wasn’t even the lawn, it was a planter box that was slightly charred.
The same planter box that I tried to point out to Hagar was smoldering when we were leaving for the doctor, but he ignored me repeatedly and got irritated because I was taking too long to get in the car. It was smoldering not because of arson, but because Hagar put a bunch of wood shavings from the bowl he made for his friend’s birthday in it, then decided to toss his still-lit smoke on top.
Thankfully the wood he used doesn’t burn very well, or it might have actually caught fire. When I got home from the doctor in my Uber, that was the first thing I checked, and it had put itself out without any apparent intervention from the neighbors. I seriously don’t understand why Hagar even brought it up, because it’s not like he was the hero in his own made-up version of events.
I didn’t even think to mention it to my husband, because, whatever, Hagar was an idiot again and nothing really happened. Hagar also could have made it slightly more believable. He could have just said it was the neighbor who used to be a firefighter, not his wife. I guess he said that because my husband and I could actually have gone and asked the neighbor, but the wife is hardly ever around and I’ve never even talked to her.
He also could have left the officers out of the story. He could have at the very least said they came by at like 10:00 or 11:00, when he was actually home and my husband and I might have been asleep. And most of all, why say it was the lawn, THEN DRAG MY HUSBAND OUTSIDE TO SHOW HIM IT WAS LITERALLY NOT THE LAWN?!?!
If catching Hagar in a lie accomplished anything ever besides screaming and cursing and various threats from him, this definitely would have been a prime time to do it. But it never does, so I just had to go laugh, and my husband just patted him on the back and gave him an “Okay, Dad. Sure.” I wonder what his next work of fiction will be.
Oh, and then there was the small matter of Hagar deciding that inappropriate slurs would be a good reaction to advice. I wasn’t there for this, but I trust that my husband wouldn’t just make this stuff up, and I don’t think the awesome guy who got called the offensive slur would do so either. A customer at Hagar and my husband’s workplace remarked that Hagar’s dog smells terrible.
She really is in terrible shape, and nothing I say, or anyone says, will convince Hagar to take her to the vet. But Hagar got upset that maybe he was losing business because of his dog. So “Awesome Guy” (AG), who is an employee too, and also happens to be half black and half Native American, pulled Hagar aside and said something along the lines of “Your dog is literally rotting and has needed to go to the vet for years.”
And what does Hagar do? In front of the customer he was afraid of losing because his stinky dog tried to say hi? He screams out: “You’re just a dumb (insert offensive slur here), what do you know?” My husband says the customer promptly walked out. Hagar has slurs for everyone, by the way. My ex-roommate, whose family home is next to George Clooney’s in Italy?
They get a slur. That’s wrong all around. I get called a slur for Irish people by Hagar, even though my name is severely Scottish, and my background is more a combination of German and Jewish than Irish.
85. Truck Stop
My father-in-law took my husband’s truck, screwing us over financially big time. He then tried to gift it to his grown child, my husband’s younger sister. My husband and I were living on our own, working full-time jobs, and adulting just fine until we conceived as planned. But then things took a horrible turn. My body didn’t handle pregnancy too well and I was constantly sick, in and out of the hospital.
My employer said I could take leave and come back when I was able to work my full shifts again, which was pretty darn cool of him! Anyway, our truck starts messing up, big time, and with me not working, we didn’t have the funds to fix it. We were already full no contact with my husband’s horrible father because whilst we were staying there and he found out we were moving out on our own, he started becoming violent and hostile towards us.
He would walk past me and call me names like, “stupid witch,” “freaking loser,” dumb jerk.” Every single time he passed me, he muttered something derogatory in my direction. He also called my husband into his bedroom nightly to “scold” him and insult him. Calling him a “wuss,” a “complete idiot,” and so on and so forth. So, we left the next day while he was at work.
He comes home to find us gone and is absolutely FURIOUS! He goes totally nuts, blowing up my husband’s phone, calling everyone in the family and telling them I have “taken” his son from him, etc. Umm, okay psycho! Well, back to the point of the story. Like I said, I was sick all the time and the truck just clunked out on us.
Now, this is a 1992 Chevy 1500, and it was booted up. With the engine trouble, it clearly wasn’t worth very much. So, a man my husband worked with offered to take it off our hands for $3,500! Great deal considering it was in pretty bad shape! Only problem? My father-in-law, even after my husband turned 18, never transferred the title to my husband’s name.
Even though it was his truck. So, we informed my father-in-law that we needed the title and are selling the truck. He threw a fit and said no we aren’t. He then refuses to transfer the title and comes and tows the truck, essentially swiping it from his son. His intentions were to screw us over financially in the hopes that it would make his son leave me, whilst I was pregnant, and move back in with him.
Now he succeeded in screwing us over financially, but that just made his son despise him even more. And as the years have passed, he just continues to make his son hate him. Here we are nearly five years later, and we have been full no contact for over a year. And we plan to keep it that way. Oh yeah, and after he took the truck, he tried to give it to his youngest grown child as a graduation present, much like it was previously given to my husband as an 18th birthday graduation present.
86. This Hits In The Feels
My mother-in-law and father-in-law stayed with my husband and me for five days. And boy, was it a long visit! Some background: I am a South Asian American millennial woman married to a southern Caucasian millennial man. My husband and I are not religious. Both of my in-laws identify as Catholic. My mother and father identify as Muslim. Everyone has already met at our wedding.
My father-in-law and mother-in-law eat only a handful of home-cooked meals out of the year, the remainder being take out and dine in. Night 1: The first hour in, we order take out from a Thai restaurant and we somehow cannot manage to have a civil dinner conversation. My father-in-law asks me if the woman at the restaurant is “insert politically incorrect term for Asian people here,” and I dismiss it because it wasn’t the hill I wanted to lay down on.
I indirectly correct him by replying, “Yes, she was Asian.” My husband chimes in and says that it’s not correct to use the term he used and that he should be saying “Asian” instead. He tries to explain that the term describes an inanimate object and not the background of a human being. I deduce that it makes sense as to why Asians would be offended if you used an objectifying term to describe them and my mother-in-law agrees that it makes sense.
My father-in-law, however, continues to justify what he says by using the baby boomer argument: “You snowflakes are so easily offended, so sensitive, and everyone is always so concerned about being politically correct.” My husband explains that it’s just an evolution of language thing and that it’s the same concept as the regretful time when other bad slurs were normalized, and things have changed and progressed for the better since then.
My mother-in-law agrees. I agree. My father-in-law tries to refute and says it’s not language that we are disagreeing about, it’s politics. And I back up my husband and say that it is language. My father-in-law digs a grave and says that this is the exact same concept as people being offended by the word “insert offensive slur for disabled people here.”
Now I’m just angry because my father-in-law thinks it’s perfectly acceptable to still throw around this word and I explain that his words are insensitive, and he doesn’t know his audience’s relationship with someone with mental disabilities and he has no way of assuming what they could be. My mother-in-law agrees. My husband agrees.
I tell him that there are other words to describe someone’s ignorance like uneducated, ignorant, dense, asinine, and even swear words. My mother-in-law gasps that I used an obscene word at the dinner table, of all places! My father-in-law doesn’t see any reason to change his ways and mumbles under his breath. Uncomfortable silence ensues at the dinner table.
I play with my pad Thai noodles remaining on my plate, mostly tracing invisible profanities with my fork. I leave the dinner table and proceed to seethe while I wash my face and get ready for bed in the comfort of our private master suite. My husband meets me on my way back, and says that he’s making my father-in-law apologize, which is relieving knowing that my husband has my back and that my father-in-law is taking responsibility for his rudeness even though he was likely not going to alter his actions. I thought it was over—but I was so, so wrong.
My father-in-law’s attempt at a half-serious apology was, “Sorry I said stuff about [insert same slur here]s hehehe.” I have a very difficult time disguising my true feelings from my demeanor, so I can safely assume that everyone could read the very annoyed look on my face before I walked away. My husband says his father needs to be sincere and apologize for being abrasive.
My father-in-law says “Sorry for being loud,” and I just looked at him straight-faced and asked “…and?” which I did not realize I had the gall to say out loud. But then he finishes his apology with, “…and being abrasive.” And I thanked him for his apology. Even though we all know that my father-in-law did not actually feel like he was in the wrong, nor did he learn a lesson.
The next night, Christmas Eve, we are all watching trash Christmas movies together when my father-in-law has me all wound up again. I honestly don’t even remember what it was about this time. My father-in-law then claims that he’s just “being honest,” which is the lowest possible excuse for inhumane behavior. So naturally, I call him out and say that he may be claiming to be honest but in reality, he’s just being patronizing, insensitive, and inconsiderate to other people.
And my father-in-law says, “Ya know, you’re a lot like me…” I couldn’t believe what came out of my mouth next. I unwittingly interrupted and said, “What? Like a jerk?!” I suppose it was a tad disdainful and I normally would have felt contrite about my comeback, but my mother-in-law was quick to agree with me and so was my husband. Thankful for them for supporting my shiny spine and speaking up about it!
The next day was Christmas. My husband and his mother are in the garage working on a project while I am in the kitchen and my father-in-law is in the living room. My father-in-law has the audacity to ask, “So how do your parents feel about you and my son being married?” I let him finish his thought so that he can elaborate, even though I’m already feeling defensive.
He continues, “I heard this story about how a religious Muslim father took his daughter’s life for being too Western, and they later discovered the Muslim father was part of an extremist group.” Instead of giving him the satisfaction of seeing me all riled up, I simply stated, “Well, I’m still alive.” My father-in-law tries to keep pushing my buttons on the matter and I just repeat my previous statement of, “All I can say is that I’m still alive.”
He let it go. Oh, but how I wish I could have ripped him a new one. My father-in-law has met my parents. He is aware of the reciprocating unconditional love that we have for each other. I am still baffled as to why he would ask such a ridiculous question when he understands my relationship with my parents. My husband hasn’t been feeling well and, on the evening of Christmas, he announces that he needs to take a break to rest.
My in-laws and I continue to hang out in the living room, but they are both taking my husband’s temporary absence very personally. I explain that he is pretty introverted and just needs to recharge, and he’s also feeling a bit under the weather so it’s good for him to rest. My husband’s away for about half an hour and then joins us all again.
He proceeds to explain the same thing I just told my in-laws. My mother-in-law is listening while I explain that my husband has been introverted ever since I’ve known him and he even needs breaks from me. And it’s not personal, he’s not annoyed or upset with me or them. He just needs alone time. My mother-in-law hears me out and now understands that this is normal behavior, but her husband does not care to listen to our conversation.
My husband and I finish making Christmas dinner for all four of us. At the dinner table, my father-in-law is quiet and, after finishing his meal, he excuses himself to go to bed without saying a word. My mother-in-law is very appreciative of us cooking dinner for everyone, and we continue spending more time with her since she’s not ready for bed yet.
The last night of their visit we have the final showdown. My father-in-law tells my husband that next time, if he needs alone time, that he should just say he is tired instead. I cheerfully chime in, “Are you asking my husband to spare your feelings?” And my husband smirks at me and says he loves my spin on this, which is funny considering that he is very insensitive and makes fun of others for being so sensitive.
It was so amusing to watch him trying to reverse his statement and backtrack. Then, my husband points out that my father-in-law acted like a child the night before and just pouted at dinner and went to bed early, which was very passive-aggressive behavior. My father-in-law is still tripping over his words and I tell him, “Even though you may be upset with my husband, that is no reason for you to be unappreciative of our time and energy spent on cooking a meal for you.”
My father-in-law finally stops and, even though he doesn’t fully admit all his faults, him stopping was a sign of defeat. This holiday wasn’t the best, but my husband and I got to go to bed with at least one win. After the showdown, my mother and father call so they can wish my mother-in-law and father-in-law happy holidays and invite them over to their home. But the jerk had to get one last jab in.
My father-in-law then says to my mother, “When is your daughter giving us grandchildren? You need to talk to her about that.” I interrupt with, “I don’t think anyone should be telling me what to do with my body.” My mother didn’t hear my response, but I told her later and she supports me 100% and knows that I am the only person that is allowed to make decisions about my body.
She also agrees that my husband and I are the only ones that should decide whether or not we want to have children. So yeah, my father-in-law is a guy who justifies using offensive terms for no reason, despite being extremely sensitive himself. And his impolite demands that I carry on his bloodline did not get him anywhere. I suspect that next time, my husband and I will be invited for a shorter stay.
The visit was not enjoyable, but at least I know that my husband 100% supports me. He’s happy that I stand up for myself and, during each one of the little flare-ups, he agreed with all of my rebuttals, my tact, and how I generally deal with his parents. I am lucky to have met him and married him, even with all of the silliness that his father has brought into my life.
87. Peeping Polly
I usually sleep in my underwear during summer since it gets hot in my house, and I also have curtains in my windows. So one day I woke up and made myself a bowl of cereal since I was home alone. I walk past my window to the kitchen when I hear a knock on the door. I’m still only in my underwear, so I hurry and get some shorts on. I open the door and see this entitled mother and her daughter.
Mother: HOW DARE YOU WALK AROUND IN YOUR UNDERWEAR Me: Uh….I’m in my own house and I had the window closed with the curtain down? Mother: MY DAUGHTER GOT CURIOUS AND PEEKED THROUGH YOUR WINDOW AND SAW YOU IN YOUR UNDERWEAR. Me (stunned into silence for a bit): Well, it’s my house, and I can be as naked as I want to be. And then I shut the door in their faces.
88. Rated M For Mature
So I’m from Germany and we have some WWII museums in different places to remind us of the horror and inform visitors of what happened in the specific area of Germany they’re visiting. I was visiting one once when I heard a child cry. Not a baby that didn’t know better, but a toddler. They sounded genuinely upset. Enter: Entitled mom.
I hear her loudly complain about a video and how this isn’t “child friendly” at all. Now first of all, in these museums it’s SUPER quiet, obviously. Second of all, they are not supposed to be child-friendly. They show raw, horrible pictures that show a brutal truth, and most adults are left speechless. It really can turn your stomach sometimes.
Employee: I’m really sorry it upset her…This museum is suggested for ages 14 and up. Mother: Then how is she supposed to LEARN?! Now, that kid was three years old, max. You can maybe talk to them about this stuff, but these museums are clearly not for kids, and it even says so on the website.
89. An Expensive Mistake
I own a Jeep that’s fully built, has a lift kit, the whole shebang. One day I’m coming home from work. It’s a summer day so the roof is off and I’m having some open-top fun. I stop at a red light and suddenly screeeeech BANG! I drive forward slightly and go back to assess the damage, and lo and behold it’s a Mercedes C class, a new one at that.
It was completely destroyed from the front, and my beautiful Jeep had no damage apart from a few scratches. I went to check on the passenger of the Mercedes and got her out of the car. Under a minute after she’s out of the car, she starts screaming about how I wrecked HER car. I told her calmly that she was the one who rammed into me.
I don’t think she understood how my hitting her would be impossible. In any case, I offer to share our insurance details because I knew that Mercedes damage doesn’t come cheap, but she said she didn’t have insurance. Instead, she insisted that I pay her 10k cash. How she got this number? I don’t know. I said that was just plain wrong as first, she hit me, and second, it’s her fault for not having insurance.
She then went on a ramble on how her kids needed the money and now her kids will have to starve because she will have to pay to fix her car and how it will all be my fault when they are on the street tomorrow…blah blah blah. Yeah, on the street with a Mercedes. She then said she would call the authorities if I didn’t pay her. This was still incredibly stupid, so I still refused.
So then she called the cops…………..yeah. Officers came, assessed the damage, and asked us what happened. She said and I quote, “He backed into me at full speed on a red light.” Then they asked me what happened and I told them, and it became a he said, she said situation. Luckily, a shopkeeper was there and saw the whole thing and even captured it on a surveillance camera.
Needless to say, I came out on top. The officers got her for reckless driving and driving without insurance. She then started yelling at them about how they would just let me get away. They explained that I did nothing wrong and that they now had video evidence of that fact. Eventually, they let me go from the scene and I got in my Jeep and left.
90. Left To Her Own Devices
My daughter’s friend from school came home with her one day. They were doing girlie stuff that normal 14-year-olds do—makeup, nails, etc. I hear a blood-curdling scream and run upstairs expecting the worst. I open the bathroom door and the girl is on the toilet with blood on her toilet paper. I was like…Ok, she started her period. Nothing too crazy.
My daughter and I sit her down and I explain why we have periods and what that means for her from now on. We hug her and congratulate her on this next step of her life. Afterward, we go get her supplies from the store and grab ice cream. She is all calmed down and feeling special at this point. I took her home and thought it was strange her parents never mentioned anything to her about any of this.
She was 14 after all. It was bound to happen sooner or later. About an hour later, I receive a call from her livid mother, who berates me for have the audacity to tell her daughter about those private things. She said that she was supposed to learn those things on her own just like she, the mom, had to. I was completely stunned! She had no intention of explaining anything to her daughter.
She then said the girls couldn’t be friends anymore. Her daughter would still come over without the parents knowing and still calls me to this day (six years later) for guidance in her life.
91. Animal Instinct
Today I had to take my dog to the vet for her semi-annual blood test. Oddly enough, she absolutely loves going to the vet and was super excited to go play with all the techs. Afterward, we walked to the pet store just down the street because she’s definitely on the nice list and deserves a new toy for Christmas. Now my dog is an Akita, so she’s pretty big and I understand that she’s a little scary-looking.
She’s also super gentle and seems to understand that kids especially can be intimidated by her, so when she sees new people she won’t run up to them but she will get excited and start wagging her tail, which is adorable because it’s a curly cinnamon roll. As a result, I don’t feel the need to do anything like pull her away from scared people.
I honestly think that only makes things worse because she’ll always wait for them to come up to her anyways. So we walk into the store and it’s pretty quiet. We are just heading towards dog toys and my dog is laser-focused on the table of treats. A mom and her kid walk past and he points to my dog and calls it a wolf. The mom then stops me and the following conversation happened.
Lady: Excuse me! That breed is banned, you can’t bring it in here. Me: I’m pretty sure the store doesn’t have a banned breed list. It’s a pet store. Lady: That’s a wolf hybrid and it’s scaring my kid! You need to leave. Me: I’m sorry your kid is afraid of dogs, but she’s not a wolf-hybrid and she’s not bothering you. This whole time, we’re still standing next to the treat table so the dog hasn’t moved an inch closer to them.
She’s just staring at the food with her tail wagging. Lady: My son is scared! You two need to leave! Me: No. At this point, my dog decided that these must be new friends. She took a step towards them with her tail still wagging at top speed. She stretched her head towards them, though they were still two or three feet away, to ask for pets.
The kid was just frozen, staring. The mother just picked up her kid and walked the other way. I just grinned and we went to look at dog toys. When I went to check out, the cashier told me the lady had complained about my “wolf-hybrid” and they had to tell her that all dogs who aren’t acting aggressively are more than welcome in the store.
The lady was ignored and my good girl got two treats from the nice worker.
92. Everything Changes In An Instant
This happened six years ago. It was a week after my birthday and we decided to throw a late birthday party; my parents were busy with work on my actual birthday, so we rescheduled the party. I invited quite a few of my friends, but one of my friend’s fathers called my parents saying he’d be late to the party. The party was from 7:00 pm to 12:00 am.
He never showed up. Once the party was over, we were heading home and talking about how fun the party was. That conversation was cut short when a vehicle drifted into our lane and collided with us, and I blacked out. When I woke up in a hospital bed, I started to panic, but the doctor that was running tests on me told me to calm down and that I was alright.
After about 20 to 30 minutes of questioning and small tests, I asked the big question. Me: Sir? Where are my parents? The doctor basically froze there for 10 seconds and responded, and I’ll never forget what he told me. Doctor: I’m so sorry but… your parents didn’t survive the crash. I was informed that my dad perished on impact, and my mom was pronounced dead when she arrived at the hospital with me.
I couldn’t believe it. I wanted to cry, but all I felt was anger. I knew the person who drifted into my lane was at fault, so I asked who crashed into us. It was my friend’s dad—and he was the ultimate entitled parent. Apparently, he was under the influence of something when he arrived and was currently handcuffed to a hospital bed.
One of the nurses told me later that he was demanding help before his son (who was also in the car) got treatment, even though his son was on life support. He eventually went behind bars and I don’t know if he’s been released or not, but if he’s out there he better hope we don’t cross paths. I’m currently living in a foster home with a wonderful family who treats me like I’m their own flesh and blood.
But as long as I’m alive, I’ll never forget my real parents, and I’ll never forget my best friend, and I’ll never forgive that father for what he’s done.
93. Same Difference
This happened a couple of weeks ago. It was the day of my grandmother’s funeral. She passed in a hospital, and I was outside talking to the owner of the funeral home. This dude was also my godfather, and I had a very good relationship with him. It might sound weird that my godfather is the owner of a funeral home, but to me, it’s not.
He’s known me since I was a baby and he treated me like I was his son. Also, to me, his job is just like any other job, and it even has its benefits. Anyway, we were just outside the hospital, talking to each other. Parked in front of us were all the company vehicles, including the one you are all thinking about: The hearse. All of a sudden, this Entitled Mother approached us.
EM: Hello. Me: Uh….hello. She had her kid just next to her and he was holding a drink. EM: I was wondering if my son could take a ride on the limousine. She then pointed her finger to the hearse. It took me a while to respond for two reasons. The first one was because that day, I had so many thoughts going through my head, and a stranger coming to me out of nowhere caught me by surprise.
I am a very introverted person, and I find it difficult to talk to people I don’t know. The second reason was because I was holding in my laugh. She legitimately thought that the hearse was a limousine. Me: I’m sorry to say this, but that’s not— EM: Are you going to say no to a little child? At this point, I don’t know what to say. Me: Miss, believe me. You don’t want your son to go in that thing.
EM: Ugh…Why are you so stingy? Even if he spills his drink in the limousine, it won’t be a problem. You have enough money to buy a limousine, so you’ll surely have enough to clean it. This is when my godfather comes in. GF: Excuse me, miss. What do you want to do? EM: I want my son to ride the limousine! My godfather then said the most epic thing I have ever heard.
GF: thinks for a bit Well, sure he can ride the limousine. But only if he has a coffin to be in. The mom is a bit confused about this response. Then she takes a good second look at the “limousine,” and realized her mistake. I have no idea how she confused a hearse for a limousine, perhaps the company logo was out of her view or something.
However, when it dawned on her, her skin got pale and she just walked away as fast as she could with her kid. My godfather and me just look at each other and start laughing.
94. Nope, Nope, And Nope
My partner and I purchased the house next door to my best friend. I had lived with him for close to a decade when his kids were babies, so the children viewed my house as an extension of theirs, and were in and out all day, every day. I have a more flexible schedule than he and his wife, so I have them in the mornings, after school, and on days off of school.
I had a pool in my yard, and because my friend’s kids were still little, I installed a retractable cover and made sure it was locked so they couldn’t open it. My friend’s yard had one of those wood fort/climbing wall/swing set deals and a large sandbox. Throughout the year, we spent most evenings outside, grilling, drinking, and watching the kids play/swim/whatever.
One summer day, I came home from work a little earlier than normal, and started to prep for dinner. I heard a knock at my back door, which was odd, since my buddy’s kids never knocked. I went to see who it was and discovered a mom and two kids who looked to be maybe 5-7 years old. As I opened the door, she informed me that her kids needed to use the bathroom and that I needed to come out and get the cover off my pool.
I was confused and asked her to repeat herself, and she said that her kids needed to pee and that they were hot and bored with playing in the sandbox, so I needed to open up my pool. I asked her why the heck she was in my friend’s yard and what made her think her kids were welcome to swim in my pool, or use my bathroom for that matter.
She got really witchy and told me that she had moved into the house behind us and that she had watched my buddy’s kids come over all the time and watched as I opened the pool for them. She insisted that since I was willing to open my pool for the kids next door, I should also open it for the children who lived behind me. I tried explaining the relationship between my best friend’s family and mine.
She claimed it didn’t matter that I had known them since birth and pretty much had helped raise them, I just needed to get to know her kids too and it would be OK. I told her no and closed the door on her. She spent a while knocking and fussing at me through the window, and then had her kids pee in a planter on the side of the patio.
When I still didn’t react, she took her kids back into my friend’s yard to play on the swings. I texted him to let him know what was going on, right at the moment he was letting his 300+ pounds worth of Newfie dogs out into the yard without noticing the unwelcome visitors. The mom starts shrieking and climbs up into the fort, leaving both kids on the swings.
She starts demanding that we put the dogs inside and how dare my friend let his dogs out into his own yard when her kids are clearly playing there. He tells her to get the heck out and calls the authorities. When the officers arrived, she put on the whole waterworks about how her kids are just looking for friends, and my buddy’s kids are somehow mistreating her kids, even though they’d never met.
She said that he invited her over just to let his dogs attack her children, blah blah blah. They eventually move her back onto her own property, then come back later to tell us they warned her about coming back. She lived in that house for almost a year before she and her husband divorced. But even then, she still managed to be a nightmare neighbor.
During that year, I had to replace the lock over the pool cover controls three times, have a fencing company remove a gate at the back of my property that was meant to let the lawnmower through, and eventually payed a security company to come to check on the yard any time we were going to be away for more than a few hours.
We found her and her kids in our yards repeatedly, but she’d leave when we got home. What finally resolved the issue was my partner catching her in the pool. She told him she knew the man that owned the house and that he had told her it was OK to swim. He told her he was married to the man that owned the pool and that it’s not OK to swim.
She apparently had a bad reaction to realizing she was immersing her sons in gay water. We didn’t see her again after that.
95. All Part Of A Balanced Diet
My husband is in his hometown for two weeks for work, and he took our four-year-old son along with him to visit my father-in-law, who I call “The Jerk,” and my mother-in-law, who I don’t have a nickname for. It was agreed that, a few days in, I would take the train down with our other baby to visit for the long weekend. The trip is about three hours long. We came back home yesterday. My husband and older son will be back home on Friday.
My father-in-law has a lot of annoying habits. For example, he likes telling grown adult members of his family how to dress. He takes every possible opportunity to criticize other people’s appearances and wardrobes, even once going so far as to make snide comments about his cousin’s attire (a sweater and long skirt) at HER OWN FATHER’S FUNERAL.
The Jerk and my mother-in-law also insist that whenever we are in town, my husband, all of his siblings, and their respective families stay at their house, even when it means a total of ten adults and seven children in a four-bedroom house with children on cots and a couple sleeping in the living room behind a dressing screen. Totally unnecessary.
But this past weekend was the worst by far. My brother-in-law and his family were also visiting. He has a wife and three kids. The Jerk and my mother-in-law do not have air conditioning, nor do they have screens on any of their windows. I’ve asked in the past why this is, and my husband simply says, “It doesn’t usually get that hot.” These are people who just bought a brand new car, own about half a dozen motorcycles, and take trips across Europe every couple of years.
Money to put in central air or a window unit here and there or even screens on their windows is definitely not an issue for them. The bed we were sleeping in during our stay is also an antique that is constantly falling apart. The Jerk literally builds furniture from scratch, so I don’t know why he can’t be bothered to fix it.
Our first night there was absolutely awful. It was a Saturday night. My husband, son, baby daughter, and I were all in one guest room together, while my brother-in-law and his family were in the other. It was 101 degrees outside, and while there was a ceiling fan, as darn hot as it was in that house, it was about as effective as blowing your breath across the top of a volcano to cool it off.
We had a choice of sleeping in a veritable sauna or opening the screenless windows and waking up covered in mosquito bites. Since we didn’t especially enjoy the thought of our kids or ourselves contracting West Nile or being miserable and itchy, we opted for the former. The kids needed lullaby music to fall asleep, so my husband had it playing on his tablet.
I have to have silence to sleep, so this was a struggle for me. My son also woke up screaming in absolute horror at least twice. I suspect night terrors, but who knows. Either way, he woke up his baby sister in the process, so you can imagine how much sleep we got. The kids woke up early the next morning and my husband, bless his soul, got up with them so I could sleep a little longer.
Still, I was exhausted and not in the greatest of moods when I got up. But knowing how critical the Jerk is of others’ appearances, I made sure to comb and smooth out my bedhead before I exited the bedroom wearing my typical nighttime attire of a T-shirt over a camisole and cotton pajama pants. The first thing the Jerk says to me as I enter the kitchen is a sarcastic “Snappy PJs.”
I am so not in the mood for his garbage, so I say, “Excuse me?” Again, he says, “Snappy PJs.” I respond, “What about them?” He can only reply, “Snappy!” I say, “You’re going to critique my pajamas? Seriously? What would you prefer I be wearing?” He makes a big dramatic show trying to be funny, saying, “Oh, you know, something silky, a nightie of some sort.”
I say, “Dude. I’m going to sleep.” He says, “That’s when it’s most important! That’s when you need to be alluring!” and strikes a pose like Leonardo DiCaprio is about to draw him like one of his French girls. He walks away and my mother-in-law, smiling like this creepy act of telling his daughter-in-law she needs to look more attractive for bedtime is some cute endearing quirk of his, brushes it off, saying, “He made fun of the nightgown I was wearing the other night.”
My brother-in-law’s wife (whom I’ll refer to as SIL1, because my husband’s sister will be mentioned later as SIL2) comes into the room a short time later wearing her own nighttime ensemble of a tank top and shorts. I make it a point to say, “Hey, SIL1, snappy PJs!” with the Jerk still in earshot. She being the secure, give-zero-hoots person she is, laughed and said, “Thanks! They’re all the rage in Cairo!”
I pulled her aside later and explained the Jerk’s comment on my wardrobe and that I wasn’t taking a potshot at her, but instead subtly calling him out on his behavior. Having had many, many dust-ups of her own with the Jerk in the past, she completely understood and found it hilarious. Most of the weekend went fairly well, relatively speaking.
And when I describe a weekend where my father-in-law darn near sexually harasses his son’s wife as “fairly well,” you can imagine what fairly poorly would entail. After lunch, owing to the lack of air conditioning and finding ourselves positioned directly beneath Satan’s behind, the family as a whole decided to take a dip in the swimming pool for a bit.
The Jerk, my husband, and my brother-in-law have a long-standing tradition of swimming pool horseplay, so they decided to have a chicken fight. For those not familiar, it involves two teams of two people, where one person from each team sits on their teammate’s shoulders and tries to topple their counterpart on the opposing team.
The Jerk prompted my husband to sit on his shoulders, but my husband was leery, not thinking the Jerk could handle his weight. My husband has a slight dad bod, as do my brother-in-law and the Jerk himself. The Jerk says, “Oh, that’s nothing. The last time SIL2 (My husband’s sister, as previously mentioned) came to visit, she climbed on top of me and almost killed me!”
The second the words left his lips, we all recoiled in horror. SIL2 is, by the clinical definition, obese, perhaps even morbidly so, and I’d guess she outweighs her brothers, but in what universe is that an okay thing to think, let alone say, about your own daughter? But of course, because it was the Jerk, we weren’t surprised.
That night, my brother-in-law and his family having headed home, we decided to put our son and daughter down to sleep in the same bed in the back bedroom while we remained in the front room, figuring that if they had each other for company, they wouldn’t be scared if one of them woke up in the middle of the night.
This part of the plan worked beautifully. They slept peacefully all night long without a peep. When my husband and I went to bed, I opened one of the windows in the bedroom because I could not face another sweat-soaked evening. We slept well. But in the morning, I woke up to about a dozen mosquito bites on my legs. I wasn’t too thrilled about it, but I was just happy to have had a decent night’s sleep.
I made sure to dress and make myself somewhat presentable before I went out into the kitchen, because I didn’t particularly feel like having my wardrobe criticized yet again. I came out and made myself a cup of tea, and the Jerk pounced on me. “Here, sit down and eat your oatmeal! I’ve already made a bowl for you.”
I’ve known my husband for fifteen years. We have been consistently together for the first eight, and since then married for six. In all that time, I have never once eaten oatmeal. I know that the Jerk hates pears and that my mother-in-law is allergic to passion fruit and can’t eat nuts, seeds, etc. due to diverticulitis. As such, I go out of my way to provide foods that comply with these dislikes, allergies, and restrictions whenever they visit.
I’m a picky eater. I know this. But, that being said, it’s been pretty well established that I don’t like seafood, onions, or mushrooms. My in-laws cook very frequently with all of these things. I have never once complained or asked anyone to cater to me. I’ve eaten everything they’ve ever put in front of me, eating around things I didn’t like whenever possible without a single word of protest.
And yet, the Jerk always calls me out for it. Several times, I’ve choked down things I couldn’t stand just to try and be polite. But with oatmeal, I just can’t. One mouthful and I gag to the point of almost vomiting. So because I really had no desire to vomit, I politely declined. Me: “Oh, thank you, but I don’t do oatmeal.” The Jerk immediately scoffed and replied: “What do you mean, you don’t do oatmeal?”
Me (Trying to be diplomatic): “I just don’t really eat oatmeal. It’s okay, I’ll find something else.” The Jerk: “Who doesn’t eat oatmeal? I made this for you!” Me: “Well, why don’t you have it?” The Jerk: “I can’t! I just took medication and I can’t eat for 45 minutes!” Me: “So just reheat it.” The Jerk (as if I had just insulted the wee baby Jesus himself): “YOU CAN’T REHEAT OATMEAL!”
Me: “Well, I’m sorry about that.” The Jerk (being completely unhelpful): “Have you ever had it the way I make it, with raisins and lots of butter and cinnamon?” Me (knowing full well that there’s no magical method of preparation that can make me enjoy the texture of cat vomit in my mouth): “I’m set, really. It’s a texture thing.” The Jerk: “I’m going to have to throw it out!”
Me: “I’m sorry about that. Why don’t you eat it?” The Jerk: “I can’t!” Me: “Neither can I!” The Jerk: “Why not?” Me: “Because I don’t like it.” At that point, I was sitting with my back to the Jerk, so I couldn’t see the look he shot my husband, but judging by my husband’s hapless shrug, I can pretty well guess what it was like.
A few minutes later, my mother-in-law emerged from her bedroom and asked about the oatmeal. The Jerk: “I’ll make you a bowl. I just had to throw one out because your daughter-in-law wouldn’t eat it.” The rest of the morning was decidedly frosty. I was busy packing up our baby’s things, as well as my own, for our return trip home, when my husband came into the room.
Me: “So your dad is mad at me about the oatmeal, huh?” My husband: “Well, you could have at least tried it.” Me: “I have tried it many times in the past. I don’t care for it. It’s a texture thing.” My husband: “Well, it’d be nice if you could say something to him.” Me: “I did! I explained to him precisely why I don’t like oatmeal.” My husband: “He doesn’t get that.”
At this point, I wanted to scream. Me: “I told him I was sorry for the waste of food, but that I don’t like oatmeal because of the texture. I don’t know how much clearer I can make it.” I was seething about the whole darn thing for the rest of the morning, and my husband sulked like a child and kept to himself until our baby daughter and I left for the train station.
As we got in the car and we were all saying our goodbyes, I told the Jerk, “By the way, I’m sorry about the oatmeal. I hope I didn’t hurt your feelings.” He offered a huffy, “Well, it’s okay.” I know this man well enough to know that he was still mad. In the car on the way to the train station, my husband said, “I appreciate you saying something to my dad.”
I responded, “I can’t believe he’s seriously pitching a fit over a bowl of oatmeal.” My husband said, “Well, you know, he was tired. I’m not making excuses for him.” I replied, “Gee, it sure sounds like you are.” He bristled and said, “How about we just don’t talk about it?” So we didn’t. That night, after my daughter and I had returned home, I texted my husband and said, “When you get home, we need to talk about your father. I really don’t feel comfortable around him.”
My husband and son are due home tomorrow around dinnertime, and after the kids are in bed I plan to have a sit-down with my husband about the Jerk and his nonsense. I have another sister-in-law (my brother’s wife) who is a complete, certifiable harpy who all but refuses contact between my brother and our family. To be perfectly candid, she’s a selfish, controlling witch.
I never wanted to be that person. I never wanted to be that person who can’t stand their in-laws, but the Jerk and my mother-in-law have made that all but impossible for me. As such, I’ve erred on the side of being a complete doormat, putting up with their garbage because I was afraid of rocking the boat. I’m not afraid anymore.
Between the decrepit beds, the lack of air conditioning and window screens, the Jerk’s criticism of pretty much anything I wear, and his insistence on playing the breakfast officer, I’m going to tell my husband point blank that while I cannot and will not dictate what he does, I will not spend the night in their house ever again, nor will my children.
If an occasion requires us to travel to their area, we will book a hotel and visit for an hour or two and retire to a room with beds that have been made in this century, central AC, no danger of waking up covered in insect bites, and a breakfast buffet where no one will question our dietary preferences. The Jerk and my mother-in-law stay at a hotel every time they come to visit us, so I don’t think it’s unreasonable for us to do the same.
I haven’t even mentioned the creepiest part yet, but it definitely speaks to the kind of creep factor that emanates from the Jerk. Whenever we women in the family are greeting him, he always demands a kiss on the cheek. He holds his cheek out and awkwardly taps it with his finger until we comply.
Just the other day, he told SIL1 and me (after he’d insulted my pajamas, naturally) that we weren’t meeting our “quota” of kisses and that we needed to catch up. YUCK! I’ve decided that’s stopping, too. I’m tempted to tell him I have a disease so that I never have to put my face anywhere near his again. That is one aspect of visiting him I know I will not be missing.
Thank you for listening to my story. I desperately needed to get that off my chest. I’ve tried several times in the past to have sit-downs with the Jerk and my mother-in-law to try to discuss how I felt, and each time they’ve just simply stated that they won’t change. In a perfect world, we’d be completely no contact, but because I know how much my husband loves his family, I’d never ask him to do that.
I’d prefer very limited contact, but I have no idea how to navigate that. I would greatly appreciate feedback from anyone who has ever been in a similar situation.
96. Minors Must Be Accompanied
I was halfway through a counseling session with a couple with a four-month-old baby. I asked about the baby, and the mom said, “She’s in bed at home.” I said, “Ah, grandparents babysitting?” The dad went, “No, she is at home alone. Nothing can happen to her. We bought a special mattress. One where she can’t suffocate.”
At this point, my jaw was on the floor, and I was just staring at them for a couple of seconds. Then I asked how long it took them to get here. They told me about 15 minutes, so I said, “Alright, the session’s over. I want you guys to go home immediately and call me when you arrive. Please hurry. And never ever leave your baby alone!”
97. Leaving A Memorable Impression
I once walked in on my roommate getting spanked on his bare butt by his parents. Yes folks, you read that right. I walked in on my college-age roommate getting spanked on his bare butt by his parents for not having his stuff packed up on move-out day. Here’s the full story: It was move-out day and my roommate was working on a paper last minute.
I was packing my stuff. His parents walked in and were absolutely enraged that he wasn’t packed yet. They immediately started scolding him while I was still in the room, but thankfully I had a final to go to and figured I’d dodge the storm. I said my goodbyes, assuming they’d be gone by the time I got back from my two-hour final and went on my way.
As it happened, my final only took 20 minutes, so I got back much sooner than they’d have expected. I opened the door and saw my roommate bent over his bed with his bare behind showing, just as his mom wound up for a spank. I slammed the door shut as quickly as I possibly could. I went over to a friend’s dorm and helped her pack for a while until I felt safe enough to return. I never brought it up to him after that.
98. One Gifted Lady
My fiancé’s mother is a single mother, and she is waayyy overly attached to my fiancé. She seems to think she is entitled to be a part of every aspect of my fiancé’s life and that she must always come first in all situations. For example, she was livid when we got engaged because we didn’t visit her first after the proposal. She pitched a fit that we had stopped by my parents’ first to show them the ring.
When we did arrive at her house, she was so angry that she ended up throwing a cake at us in her driveway. And that’s just the tip of the iceberg. She has made my life a nightmare since we got together, but it became much worse when I got pregnant. She has made numerous attempts to convince my fiancé to leave me because she doesn’t believe I am pregnant with his baby.
Her “proof” is that I was too fat, so I must be lying about the due date. This is just one of the many things she has done to hurt and embarrass me. We have limited our contact with her as a result, but she always seems to find a way to weasel back in. So, last week I gave birth to a beautiful baby girl. Both our families were not able to come to the hospital and will likely not be able to visit in person for a while.
My parents told me they planned to decorate the front of my house to welcome the baby home, and my mom said she had ordered a bunch of things off Etsy for the occasion. When I arrived home, I was surprised to see that there were no decorations. I didn’t think much of it and just assumed my family had run out of time. It wasn’t like them to forget, but I assumed there was a good explanation. Then I got a heart-stopping phone call.
My mom called me after I was settled and asked me how I liked the decorations and presents. I asked her what she was talking about and told her that there was nothing outside when I got home. My mom proceeded to text me several pictures of my house fully decorated in pink baby gear. I also noticed several wrapped presents on my porch in the picture.
They were also missing along with a large banner, balloon arrangements, and several other decorations. My mother told me one of the presents contained a little sweater knitted by my grandma that I wore as a baby. I had been looking forward to receiving this and passing it on to my daughter. I was extremely confused as we live in a rural area so porch pirates are not very common.
I asked my fiancé to check our security camera. He pulled up the footage and we were both shocked at what we saw. We saw his mother taking everything down and putting it all in her car. The footage was very clear and you can easily see her license plate in the video. My fiancé was livid and immediately called his mother. She tried to deny it at first but soon admitted what she had done.
She claimed she was angry that she was not given the opportunity to decorate our house herself. She said my family had insulted her by excluding her, and she began to cry about how horrible we are to her. My fiancé was not having it. He said she had one hour to bring everything back to our place or he would be calling the authorities.
She then laughed and said that she had already thrown everything into a donation bin and told us good luck finding it. My fiancé has already driven around to several donation bins in the area to check but hasn’t found anything yet. We now agree that she will have no contact with our child in the future. I am beyond done with her and I just hope this is all over.
99. Bad Suggestions
After my twin brother lost his life in a car crash, my parents sat me down. When they began talking, my blood ran cold. My brother’s girlfriend had been especially devastated by the loss, and they were worried about her, so they’d come up with what they thought was an ingenious idea. They wanted me to date my dead brother’s girlfriend.
100. Adopting A New Attitude
My parents recently confided in me and told me that my sister is adopted. They have never told her about this, and they apparently plan on keeping it a secret from her forever. They are worried about how she would react to being told, and how the knowledge would affect her relationship with them. She’s currently 34 years old. I have no idea what to do with this information.
101. What’s In A Name?
I was the youngest and only child in my family to attend college. While in college, I was kicked out at the age of 20. My dad got furious over his burned dinner, and then later, instead of knocking on my door to open my window, he barged in and opened it himself. I protested and he overreacted and said, “his house his rules.”
I told him that you don’t just do stuff like that because I could have been naked or any number of things. It had nothing to do with the rules of the house; it was more about walking in on something awkward. He didn’t take it well and kicked me out for talking back. Didn’t talk to them for seven years after that. Eventually, though, they came back into my life.
My oldest brother only had girls, and I ended up having three boys. For each one of them, I was asked by both if I’d name one of them after my dad. I would inform them no and they would get increasingly agitated. Eventually, I just decided to be truthful and hit them back with a brutal response: “If you wanted me to name any children after you, you should have actually raised me better.”
I haven’t talked to them for three months now and it doesn’t look like I will be for the foreseeable future after another incident. They used my credit card for $7,000 after kicking me out. I’ve spent my entire life fending off their manipulative antics. The nail in the coffin? My mother told me she had a life-altering disease that she did not actually have.