An Open Letter to the Kid On a Scooter

Better here than in a restaurant.

Better here than in a restaurant.

Dear Kid on the Scooter,

What the hell is your problem? I saw you come into the restaurant with your mom, grandma and sister and you were riding a fucking scooter. In a restaurant? Really? I saw you riding it on the sidewalk before you came in, but I never thought you would ride it all the way through the restaurant as you and your family picked out a table like you were in a fucking orchard picking out apples.  “Oh, look at that one, it’s so nice! Oooh, but what about that one?” You rode it from Table 1 all the way to Table 16 and then back again. With the wind blowing through your hair, you looked like you thought you were filming Easy fucking Rider. And then your mom wanted a table on the patio. I saw your eyes light up when you saw all that open concrete out there with just nine tables that you would have to dodge though. I could tell you were looking forward to taking that damn scooter on a ride from Table 21 to Table 29, but your mom was too damn impatient to wait for me to reset that four top that had just left so she decided to sit inside instead. I bet your heart fell through your chest and into a soggy pile of sadness when you realized you would have to go back inside with your scooter. Inside you rode, right back to Table 16 where your sister crawled into the booth and put her grubby little hands on every piece of silverware and every glass at the table.

GET OFF YOUR FUCKING SCOOTER!

So then I had to make room for the fucking thing as if serving two kids wasn’t enough of a pain in my ass, now I have to practically valet park a goddamn scooter for a ten-year old. After I moved the high chairs over and made room for the thing, I went to give you your menus and then I went outside to clean the four top. As soon as I was done setting it up, your mom decided she does want to sit outside “now that there’s a table ready.” Off you go to get your wheels so you can ride the whole six feet to your next table. I grabbed the silverware and glasses from Table 16 since your sister had already left her DNA on all of it and carried it out to the patio to swap them with the clean ones. And what did you do, kid? You stood in the doorway, straddling your scooter the same way your whore mother straddled a stranger she met on the 7 train to conceive you between the Queensborough Plaza and 46th Street stops. I had to step around you three. Damn. Times.

GET OFF YOUR FUCKING SCOOTER!

After a couple of spins around the patio, as I silently prayed for a rock or stick to catch your wheel and send you to the pavement, you finally sat down. Your mom was in a hurry all of a sudden just like she was ten years ago when she was trying to get her panties back on before she missed her subway stop. She chose your food for you because she’s so good at making decisions. “Yeah, ride the scooter in the restaurant. Yeah, let your hair grow down past your shoulders so no one can tell if you’re a boy or a girl. Yeah, cum inside me, man on the 7 train, so we can make a baby together.” Your mom’s a real peach pit, I tell ya.

I got your food. I cleared your table. I gave you your check. Your mom left me about 12%. And then you left. Onto your scooter you hopped, your sister running behind you as you rode through the restaurant while other customers gave your mom a look of “what the fuck is wrong with you?” Your mom meandered out, pulling a wedgie out of her ass, except don’t you have to wear underwear to have a wedgie? You zoomed through the exit and out onto the busy sidewalk and hopefully out onto the busier street.

GET OFF YOUR FUCKING SCOOTER!

Mustard and mayo,
The Bitchy Waiter

Eat it, asshole.

Eat it, asshole.

20 thoughts on “An Open Letter to the Kid On a Scooter

  1. Paulina

    This reminds me of the day my stupid colleague brought her equally stupid daughter to the office with her. The daughter spent the afternoon hitting the walls with her ball. I could not concentrate on my files because of the noise, therefore I spent the afternoon imagining 50 ways to kill a 12-year-old using only office supplies.

    Reply
  2. SlumSlut

    I’m curious – is there a reason you didn’t say “I’m sorry, we cannot allow your child to ride the scooter in this establishment because of insurance and building codes”? I’ve had people tell me I can’t bring my bike into the grocery store for those reasons, even though it takes up less space than the mega-shopping-carts. Nobody seemed too worried about losing my business to the competitor, either.

    Reply
    1. The Bitchy Waiter Post author

      I feel like it’s the job of the owner/manager to come down on guests, but my owner/manager has teeny tiny balls. Well, if he has any at all. It’s more likely that his wife keeps them in box somewhere and only lets him have them when she wants to get laid. (I’m pretty sure he doesn’t read this blog…)

      Reply
  3. anne marie

    WTeverlovinF?

    don’t these “parents” teach their kid any manners? wish the kid had wiped out (like your GIF depicts) BEFORE he came into your restaurant!

    Reply
  4. BobbyAnn

    I was walking through a grocery store parallel to the beginning of the aisles when all of a sudden a kid came whipping out of aisle 12 and damn near ran me and my 10 year old over. Followed closely by his mother.

    What IS IT with these parents that think this sh*t is okay? I get the whole “pick your battles” with your kid and don’t sweat the small stuff [like a dirty room] but C’MON! This is not a struggle to KNOW this is wrong and dangerous.

    I said to the mother “I think for everyone’s safety, including your son’s, he needs to carry the scooter.”

    She didn’t bat an eyelash when she responded “He’s fine. He won’t get hurt.”

    I wanted to trip her and say “Yeah? Well, We almost DID.”

    And I thought the grocery store was bad? The restaurant blows that all to sh*t. Insane. I know you think it’s management’s job to say something, but please – I couldn’t safely do my job if I didn’t say something. No tip is worth getting run over regardless of who lacks balls at your establishment.

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  5. April

    I have never seen anyone let their kid ride a scooter in a restaurant or store, but I will say I HATE heelies. Those shoes with the wheels in them? Holy shit, I want to find whoever invented them and fling heelies at their head. For a while there, not a week went by without some damn kid on heelies running into people in the store. stores actually started banning them.

    Reply
  6. mags86

    I was in such a bad mood, seriously – I made my husband leave the house so I could be alone…thank God I decided to check out your blog. Thank you Bitchy Waiter – (and this big glass of wine that I’m drinking:)I feel soooooo much better!

    This post made me laugh out loud! You are too good! I want to say WTF is wrong with parents these days…but, I think most of them are too far gone. They have no idea what ‘proper behavior in public’ means anymore. And the whole time I was reading, I kept thinking “where the hell is the GM?” So now (and you pointed this out)…I think part of the interview process when hiring a restaurant manager should include a ‘ball check’. If you don’t have big ones that can handle the asshole customers – you don’t get the job. I was the GM of a high end restaurant in an east coast resort town for years (and I’m a woman) and I NEVER put up with any shit from the customers – ever! My motto – never reward customers for bad behavior! And shut them down immediately if they are behaving like asses or doing something stupid…

    You rock Bitchy Waiter – Love your blog!

    Reply
  7. Jessica Wegener

    This is a awesome post. FUCK THOSE STUPID AS LITTLE KIDS OM THEIR SCOOTERS. I applaud you and I think you’re amazing! Keep bitching! Love ya!

    Reply
  8. Hailey

    It’s even worse when the parent orders and they order wrong and send it back because their ignorant fucking child didn’t want that or when you do have the child order and then they treat you like a slave the rest of the night! I NEED ANOTHER PEPSI! NOW!

    Reply
  9. Kimberly

    Ugh, reading that makes me so glad I’m currently not in the food service or retail industries. What the heck has happened that parents don’t have the guts to discipline or set limits for their spawn? If I’d done that in a restaurant as a child I would not have been able to sit for a month

    Reply
  10. Renee Stough

    OK, Im not REALLY bragging on my kids, but at one time, I had a 10,5 and 3 year old (thats when we started going out to dinner with the whole family). I dont know, maybe it was my strict motherly ways, but I have NEVER raised a hand to my kids, but let me tell you what, when we walked through the doors of a public place, they immediately turned into soldiers, all the “f” bombs mom ever tossed about to them, left their head never for them to repeat, they sat like little boys and girls, no silly play at the table, manners were in place at all times, including please and thank you. We cleaned up our mess, and left it nice and tidy for the server/busser. I always left at least 30% tip no matter what. I am a server, and Im telling ya, THERE ARE SO MANY DAYS I WANT TO BEAT THE LIVING FUCK OUT OF SOME KIDS! Never in my life have I ever seen such little pigs. Parents are high or something, no normal parent would allow their kid to stick straws up their nose and see who can blow the most boogers out the other end. OMFG, I had to excuse myself from the table. Anyway, thats my rant, and I hate kids.. except my own. 🙂

    Reply
  11. Rhonda

    This is quite possibly the funniest thing I have ever read. Know one will ever understand the struggles of a server except another server. Keep up the good work.

    Reply

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