Wednesday, August 20, 2008

Birth Control

I hate kids. More specifically, I hate parents who don't control there offspring.

Today I had the full spectrum of these mini-human beings (terms used loosely... you can't prove to me some of these crazy heebeejeebees are human) at my store.

The day actually started quite well. A mother came in with two boys, one about 10 and the other about 3 years younger. Both boys were quiet (IE not constantly screaming at mom) and respectful to the people around them. They (amazingly enough in this day and age) had manners. Things like "please", "no, Ma'am" and "thank you" were a regular part of their vocabulary. They really amazed me when, after their mother paid for their items, they came to her and said "thank you, Mom" and they meant it! I made it a point to tell her how great it was to see that, and that I hoped that these two fine young men came back to my store. Mom was obviously overjoyed to hear that.

That's the good stuff. I wish it was more common, but it's not. What I got next, unfortunately, is the norm.

A mother and her three kids came into the store today when it was rather busy. The kids ranged anywhere from early teens (the daughter), to about 4 years old. The oldest boy was about ten. This family was in my store for almost two hours. It's not a big store. I had no where to hide.

The daughter started by asking where her sized merchandise was and dove into it with typical teenage glee.

The boys went ape-shit.

They started by grabbing anything they could touch. They opened everything. If it was on a peg, they took it off the peg and left it on the floor. And they took the peg and threw it like a dagger. They ripped open sealed packages. They broke the ties on certain items. They used other items like dusters (even though they are not meant for anything like that). They started pounding on my credit card pad. They got behind the counter and started dumping our supplies all over the floor. They got into the trash and started emptying that.

Now that they were warmed up, they started running in the store. It was an all-out game of tag, and when you got caught, you got punched. If you got caught and you weren't playing, you got punched. They tripped over other customers (and there were many). They were screaming the entire time. MM and I were doing everything we could to stop them. No luck.

The Mother wasn't doing anything to stop these hooligans. The boys went nuts. They got mad if they got asked to stop by us. The mother didn't say a word. Other customers were joining in, trying to tame these raving rabid twits. Nothing worked.

I lost it all after I was measuring the youngest child and the middle child grabbed my shoulders and started using me as an obstacle for his game. He was pushing my shoulders, grabbing what little hair I have left, punching my back, and kicking my feet. As I looked up at the mother to tell her what size shoe her son wore, the middle heathen literally screamed in my left ear. He was one inch from it at the time. I just looked at the mother and said if this behavior continued, I would ask them to leave as they were disrupting my store for other customers and they were not being safe. They were also a hazard to my health.

I went in back and punched a wall.

I came back out to find the eldest boy hanging from the door. It's a glass door and not designed to support any weight, particularly not the tonnage this overweight fart was carrying. I just looked at the mother and said "do I need to call the police?"

They finally made their selections, and the mother had the gall to ask me to give her a discount!

What planet are people like this from???


And my mother wonders why she will never get grand kids out of me.

1 comment:

Anonymous said...

geeeezus, it ain't nothing for me to whoop my kid's asses when they act like that. Course, mine are no where near that bad!

I wouldn't have been able to hold my tongue against the mother. Props to you, Clinton.

I got you signed up for the football thingy.