Category Archives: kids suck

I Hate Kids, Part 525,600

I am on vacation so you are forced to read this old tired summer rerun of a post. If I can pull myself away from the cocktails, I will write something new. In the meantime, this is all there is. My apologies.

The Bitchy Waiter

I may have found my new hero. Someone sent me a story (holla out to Bonnie) about a something that happened somewhere called Hallifax West Yorkshire in England-land. The link is at the bottom of the page but here is the gist of it written in a much more entertaining way and with much worse grammar.

Some family went to the grand opening of a Mexican restaurant and brought with them, as parents are apt to do, their two-year old child, Molly. Jeez, do parents have to take their kids everywhere? It’s so annoying. The parents were obviously pretty stupid because they were going to a Mexican restaurant. In England. What the fuck is that? Chicken enchiladas with a side of scone? And English Breakfast margaritas? Whatever. I guess the restaurant was really slammed, or as they say in the Queen’s English, “bartle bagged.” (I totally made that up.) The family had to wait a long time for their food and I guess (say this with a Cockney accent) the lit’le tyke got a might impatient waitin’ for ‘er food and threw a bit o’ a ‘issy fit. (You can stop with the Cockney accent. You’re really bad at it.) The article doesn’t say exactly what Molly did other than get a bit “moany” and “grumbly” but I am pretty sure I know how she behaved. She wanted to wander around the restaurant and get in people’s way and annoy other people who do not have kids. When her “mum” made her sit down, Molly began to scream at the top of her lungs and throw sugar packets and bread pudding spoons all over the fucking place. When the dad threatened to spank her arse, she cried until the food finally arrived making the waiter and every table around her hate dear sweet adorable Molly.

When they got the check they noticed at the bottom of it that something had been typed in underneath the food. It said, “thankyyou littell fucker.” Now even though there are some points deducted for spelling, it is clear what was being said. The check called Molly a little fucker. Bravo! Hear ye hear ye! My hero. This server is Queen of all Bitchy Waiters. Capital B. Capital W. Understandably, the family got in a tizzy for insulting their little precious bundle of cunt and demanded an apology and blah blah blah blah. I am sure they got the apology and probably a free order of fish n chips quesadillas too. The sad thing is the person responsible for the “offensive” remark got fired. Or “sacked” as they say they across the pond. The server was just speaking the truth. Had she lived in America maybe she could have stood behind the freedom of speech and all that crap, but seeing that she lived in jolly old England, they fired her British ass. Hopefully, that server will move on to her next position having learned something from her mistake. You can never insult the customer. What I mean is you can never insult the customer where they will find out about it. Say it in the kitchen, write on your pad, think it in your head. Do not print it on their check. Amateur.

CLICK HERE TO READ THE STORY EVEN THOUGH MINE IS MORE INTERESTING

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Bad Parenting

So my vacation officially starts today and I had already planned to have a repost happen. However, divinity stepped in and inspired me to write one more thing before I switch over to automatic (read: lame ass) pilot. I was on the F train yesterday headed out to Brooklyn to drop the dog at the kennel. The train was packed with people who were on their way to the loveliness that is Coney Island. By the way, this has nothing to do with waiting tables, but it does have to do with annoying parents and obnoxious children and the two pretty much go hand in hand.

It baffles me that so many people will have children and then treat those children like complete and total dirt. There were two moms on the train with their cumulative five kids. The one mom that was across from me was wearing the requisite fat lady outfit of tight blouse and black stretch pants. When a woman gets over a certain weight, do they just automatically receive black stretch pants in the mail? Is that how it works? Her shirt was black and white horizontal stripes and she was looking like the Pillsbury Dough Zebra. I think she missed the mass text that said horizontal is not flattering. She had on earphones so she was talking way too loud to the other mother. She would ask her a question and then say “wha?” when she couldn’t hear the answer. She’d roll her eyes and sigh because she had to physically exert herself to remove the earphones, but then she would put them back in, ask a question and say “wha?” again. Stupid. Her daughter was about four years old and really fat. It makes me sad when I see an obese kid because I know that the only reason they are like that is because of what the parent feeds them. And sure enough. When the little girl started to cry, the mother got her to be quiet by giving her a McDonald’s apple pie.

The other mom spent the whole time yelling at her kids to shut up. She had a baby in a stroller who was screaming at the top of his lungs the whole ride. Like everyone on the train was looking at each other with that knowing glance that says, “damn, that lady is one crappy ass mother.” The screaming mother had this conversation with the baby:

Baby: Waaaa!
Mother: Shut the hell up!
Baby: Waaaa!
Mother: Whad are youse freakin’ cryin’ ’bout? You the only one even comfortable here with a seat.
Baby: Waaaa!
Mother: I don’t even like you!
Baby: Waaa!

Now, I am not fluent in baby or anything but I am pretty sure he was saying, “oh my God, I can’t wait until I am old enough to walk so I can run away from home. Seriously? You’re my mother? Somebody save me. Shaken baby syndrome would be better than living with this bitch.” I felt bad for those kids. I imagined them in my station and how awful they would be because the mothers didn’t know how to teach their kids. I felt really bad. For some reason it made me sad and I got a bit teary eyed. As the water welled up in the corner of my eye, ready to make its way down my cheek I suddenly remembered I was starting my vacation. Woo hooo!! Vacation, here I come!

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I Hate Kids, Part 378

Okay, so I am not waiting tables because I am busy being a full time actor and shit, but I have spent a lot of time eating at restaurants and sitting on the other side of the menu. I took myself to breakfast this morning because I couldn’t bear to start my day with another bowl of Cheerios and banana with a yogurt chaser. I found a quaint little diner that was going to satisfy my craving for eggs and toast. Yes, I could make these myself, but I wanted them to be cooked by someone else and then served by a waiter. All was well. I placed my order and sat in anticipation. And then it happened. A couple came in with their two adorable little girls and when I say “adorable,” I mean “bratty spoiled crybabies who couldn’t shut the fuck up.”

The younger of the girls was named Megan and I know that because I heard her name about hundred and fifty fucking times within a ten minute period. She wanted bacon and french fries for breakfast and her parents drew the line on that request. However, they told her if she would eat eggs for breakfast then they would take her to get a cupcake afterwards. Seriously? “No” to the french fries but yes to the cupcake? What the fuck point is that? I say if you’re on vacation let her have french fries for breakfast and then ask her to eat some fruit too. The dad was full of empty threats. As a non-parent (praise be to Jesus that my seed has not been sowed), it seems clear that threatening something with no intention to follow through on the threat means nothing to the child. When Megan wouldn’t sit in the chair, the dad told her that they were going to end the vacation and go back home right then. Now we know that is not going to happen. And so did the girl. She was probably thinking, “Oh Daddy, I know you already put down a non-refundable deposit on our room and have already requested these days off from work so shut the hell up.” And then a few minutes later when Megan threw her sunglasses on the floor and wouldn’t pick them up, he told her if she didn’t pick them up, he was going to throw them away. And what did Megan think? “Oh, Daddy, you aren’t going tot throw away these perfectly good sunglasses away after you just spent $10 on them. That would be silly, you dumb fuck of a daddy.” And when he threatened to make her sit on the corner, she actually said, “Oh, what corner?” He was clearly setting his daughter up for a future in prostitution.

Eventually he began treating the girl like a dog by yelling commands at her. “Megan, sit. Megan, stay.” Megan did none of these things. My dog is better behaved than this little girl. At one point, I looked over at the father and he had his head in his hands. The look in his eyes was one of sadness and desperation. It was as if he couldn’t believe that he only gets one vacation a year and here he was stuck on his vacation with his family. I almost felt sorry for him for a second. And then my omlette showed up. As I took my first bite of home fries I heard the father pleading one more thing from his daughter. “Megan, get your mouth off the chair.”

Kids. I hate ’em.

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