The Worst Parents Of All Time
Parents aren't just supposed to raise their kids in a warm and loving environment—they're also supposed to pass down lessons about how to be a good person. Unfortunately, these parents' moral compasses were irredeemably broken.
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 gun 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 gun.
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.
