Once upon a time there was a Stroller Mom From Hell who thought the world revolved around her and her alone. Her offspring was pushed around all day in a stroller that was bigger than many New York City studio apartments and she never ever worried that it was taking up too much space at public places. One day, she went into a restaurant with her gigantic stroller. She loved going to restaurants because it allowed her to pretend that she was very important as she ordered her waitress around. Her favorite restaurant to go to was one where the servers had to wear stupid hats on their heads.
“I like it here, because the waiters are dressed like little trained monkeys,” she said. “Look at their cute little vests and those stupid ties, the poor things!” She laughed and tossed her hair that smelled like Pantene.
Into the restaurant she went, pushing her stroller with her child walking beside it.
“Mommy, I wanna sit in my stroller,” it whined.
“Well, I’m very sorry, but your stroller is full of Mommy’s Victoria’s Secret bags and the stuff I just bought at Home Goods, so you’re just going to have to walk.”
The stroller was also filled with every imaginable toy, three days worth of diapers, two blankets, a change of clothes for both her and her child, her purse, some bottled waters, snacks and a partridge in a fucking pear tree. Once the mom parked at the table, she asked for a high chair even though she knew she was going to let the little hellion run free around the restaurant. In a feeble attempt to control her child, she ordered him a Coke and then poured some Goldfish crackers onto the tray of the stroller. She also had two bottled waters sitting on the tray because there was no room on the table for it since her iPad and a Woman’s Day magazine were taking up valuable space.
“Just stand there by your stroller and eat your crackers. Mommy has to update her Facebook status and she also needs to play Candy Crush. Be quiet and be good.”
The child quickly tired of eating Goldfish crackers and being ignored by his mother so he began to wander around the table.
“Get back next to your stroller, Benedict! One hand on it at all times!”
“No!” he yelled.
“Don’t make me count!”
“Three…two,” she began. “One! That’s it.”
Mom got up and walked towards her Benedict brat and he immediately ran back towards his stroller. She tried to cut him off but in doing so, she knocked over the stroller, spilling the two bottles of water and the large Coke.
“My Victoria’s Secret!” she shrieked. She rushed over and picked up her bags of lingerie as well as the two candle holders that she had purchased from Home Goods. (They were plastic but made to look like crystal and they were going to look beautiful on her next Thanksgiving tablescape.)
The floor was huge mess. She put Benedict into his high chair and snapped her fingers at her waitress.
“Hi, I need this to be cleaned up. My son spilled. I like your hat.”
The waitress looked at the floor with its mix of water and Coca-Cola slowing spreading across the tiles. She looked back at the mother who was pulling her iPhone from her fake Micheal Kors purse.
“Oh, and I’m ready to order.”
The waitress sighed, adjusted her tie and pushed her styrofoam hat higher off her forehead. “Okay, lemme go get something to mop this up with.”
“Oh, and I’m ready to order,” the mom repeated.
The waitress shuffled off to the kitchen.
“Oh, how rude,” the mom said. ‘She didn’t even let me order.”
Two minutes later, the waitress reappeared with a roll of paper towels and began the arduous task of cleaning up something that was not her responsibility at all. And what did the mother do? She took fucking pictures of the mess, including a selfie, and sent it to Facebook so all the world could see what a lazy disrespectful person she is to those who work in restaurants. She even added the cute little comment, “My mess I made at Farrell’s today!:)”
Well, eventually, those pictures floated over to a blogger by the name of The Bitchy Waiter and he decided to live up to his name and share those photos for even more to see. If you make a huge mess in a restaurant, if you’re not going to offer to help clean it up, the least you can do is not taking a fucking picture of it. It’s rude. And mean.
The mom carried on for the rest of the day, oblivious to her unkind ways. No one ever knew if she saw the error in her ways. She probably didn’t but maybe some day she will. Particularly if enough people like this blog post so that eventually she will see it and think, “Oh, yeah…maybe that wasn’t very nice of me.”
This is a fictionalized account of what I think could have happened, based on the photos that were sent to me.