People are stupid. And so are children. Especially the children of stupid people. I decided to do some shopping today. I got some jeans and a nice button up shirt. The sleeves are a little shorter than I'd like, but the overall fit is so wicked that I couldn't say no. And, I mean, come on: it's black. So later in the day when I had gotten my clothes and my books, I went over to the nearby sporting goods store.
You know, to look around.
A horde of children had taken it upon themselves to take down all of the scooters and tricycles and made the store into a giant circuit race. I passed an employee and cocked an eyebrow. "I guess we get double duty as baby sitters." He said. The children weaved in and out of the sections and aisles, forcing aside soccer moms and football dads and almost-sorority girls. But not me. I stood my ground in the middle of the aisle as I compared the sizes of gloves.
And I'm always in a bad mood.
"Um, excuse me." The boy said. He sounded offended. "Can you move?" He was clearly the ringleader. The pied-piper atop his big wheel. "We're trying to ride through here." I turned slowly and looked down at them, the train of twelve-year-old children riding on all variations of scooters. "What the hell do you think you're doing? Riding all up and down the store like maniacs?" Maybe it was my wildly appropriate opening statement. Maybe it was my stern expression acquired through years of watching Batman cartoons and Clint Eastwood movies.
But some of them immediately put the scooters back into their appropriate places and left.
"We're riding in the store." The ringleader said smartly. "We're allowed to. They let us." He tried to push by me, but his back wheel got caught on my foot. "But should you?" I asked. The remaining children looked hesitantly at each other. Clearly they had consciences. But the leader pushed on, getting around my foot. "I don't care. We can." With that, he was off. And the others followed him tentatively, as if afraid to incur my wrath.
I glanced around the store and singled out a dad who would periodically turn and watch the children cruise by with a smile. Mine. I approached him. "Excuse me sir," I said. "Are you the father of the child burning tracks across the store?" He turned to face me, abandoning the clearance rack. "Uh, yes." He said. "Well then I'm expecting an apology from you since your son isn't quite mature enough to handle it." He looked confused. "I'm sorry, I, uh..." I pointed down at my foot. "He ran over my foot when he was speeding recklessly down the aisle." "Oh I'm so sorry," he said. "I just, you know, kids right?" I narrowed my eyes at him and went back to perusing the selection. And the kids came back.
Strike two.
I stepped out into their path and stopped the ringleader for the second time. "Hey!" He said. "I already told you we can do whatever we want!" I grabbed the handlebars of his big wheel. "Listen to what I'm saying you spoiled piece of shit. I'm plain clothed security. You understand what that means?" His eyes went wide and he nodded. "This is your second warning. If I have to stop you again then I'm going to kick your dumb ass out of the store and bar you from ever coming back. And then I'm going to write you a citation for repeatedly disturbing the peace and it's going to go on your permanent record. Still think you can do whatever you want?"
The boy shook his head, long ago abandoned by his peers.
"Now put this back and behave, or I'm coming after you." He left in a hurry, and I was free to shop in peace again. As I stood in the aisle, an employee came up to me. "How are you doing today, sir?" He asked. "Not great." I told him. He obviously didn't know how to respond. "See," I went on. "You need to change your policy where you let spoiled little kids tear up your store and disturb the other shoppers. Right now I am very much unimpressed." "Oh." He said. "I'm sorry."
"Yeah." I said, leaving.
What's the deal with people raising shitty kids? Like, is it really that hard to instill at least a moderate sense of propriety and respect in them? Is it really so hard to discipline them? This is the second time I've really had a big problem with kids acting like little shits and finding out that their parents are completely worthless as parents. Come on, people! Beat your kids or something! Or hire me to do it!
Also, I am most definitely in the mood for Christmas.
You know, to look around.
A horde of children had taken it upon themselves to take down all of the scooters and tricycles and made the store into a giant circuit race. I passed an employee and cocked an eyebrow. "I guess we get double duty as baby sitters." He said. The children weaved in and out of the sections and aisles, forcing aside soccer moms and football dads and almost-sorority girls. But not me. I stood my ground in the middle of the aisle as I compared the sizes of gloves.
And I'm always in a bad mood.
"Um, excuse me." The boy said. He sounded offended. "Can you move?" He was clearly the ringleader. The pied-piper atop his big wheel. "We're trying to ride through here." I turned slowly and looked down at them, the train of twelve-year-old children riding on all variations of scooters. "What the hell do you think you're doing? Riding all up and down the store like maniacs?" Maybe it was my wildly appropriate opening statement. Maybe it was my stern expression acquired through years of watching Batman cartoons and Clint Eastwood movies.
But some of them immediately put the scooters back into their appropriate places and left.
"We're riding in the store." The ringleader said smartly. "We're allowed to. They let us." He tried to push by me, but his back wheel got caught on my foot. "But should you?" I asked. The remaining children looked hesitantly at each other. Clearly they had consciences. But the leader pushed on, getting around my foot. "I don't care. We can." With that, he was off. And the others followed him tentatively, as if afraid to incur my wrath.
I glanced around the store and singled out a dad who would periodically turn and watch the children cruise by with a smile. Mine. I approached him. "Excuse me sir," I said. "Are you the father of the child burning tracks across the store?" He turned to face me, abandoning the clearance rack. "Uh, yes." He said. "Well then I'm expecting an apology from you since your son isn't quite mature enough to handle it." He looked confused. "I'm sorry, I, uh..." I pointed down at my foot. "He ran over my foot when he was speeding recklessly down the aisle." "Oh I'm so sorry," he said. "I just, you know, kids right?" I narrowed my eyes at him and went back to perusing the selection. And the kids came back.
Strike two.
I stepped out into their path and stopped the ringleader for the second time. "Hey!" He said. "I already told you we can do whatever we want!" I grabbed the handlebars of his big wheel. "Listen to what I'm saying you spoiled piece of shit. I'm plain clothed security. You understand what that means?" His eyes went wide and he nodded. "This is your second warning. If I have to stop you again then I'm going to kick your dumb ass out of the store and bar you from ever coming back. And then I'm going to write you a citation for repeatedly disturbing the peace and it's going to go on your permanent record. Still think you can do whatever you want?"
The boy shook his head, long ago abandoned by his peers.
"Now put this back and behave, or I'm coming after you." He left in a hurry, and I was free to shop in peace again. As I stood in the aisle, an employee came up to me. "How are you doing today, sir?" He asked. "Not great." I told him. He obviously didn't know how to respond. "See," I went on. "You need to change your policy where you let spoiled little kids tear up your store and disturb the other shoppers. Right now I am very much unimpressed." "Oh." He said. "I'm sorry."
"Yeah." I said, leaving.
What's the deal with people raising shitty kids? Like, is it really that hard to instill at least a moderate sense of propriety and respect in them? Is it really so hard to discipline them? This is the second time I've really had a big problem with kids acting like little shits and finding out that their parents are completely worthless as parents. Come on, people! Beat your kids or something! Or hire me to do it!
Also, I am most definitely in the mood for Christmas.
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--Gabe