Entitled Parents

Stores Are Not Daycares

So I used to work for a video game store. I won't say which one, but they'll give you a dollar fifty for the rarest new game while trying to sell a two year old EA roster update for more than 1/3 retail. Yeah. That one.

This story took place about 12 or 13 years ago. If the details seem suspect, blame the ol' thinker, which has been through a lot in the span between then and now.

The backstory:

I worked there for about 3 months and had to move back out of town for school. This period in time lines up with the release of the Nintendo Wii when you couldn't get enough of them in to satisfy demand (and I have stories about that for another day, believe you me) and when it became a thing for sad middle aged stay-at-home mothers to dump their kids places and pretend to be the annoying bitch quartet from Sex In The City. You'd see them in the mall walking four abreast, impeding foot traffic and being super bitchy about everything. Sometimes you'd see one sidle up to the store, dump her kid(s) off, and fuck off before we could yell at her to get her kids.

We always hated this, because we were paid just a hair above minimum wage to do a sales job, not babysit temporarily abandoned fuck trophies. Usually the kids were cool, but you did get the odd piece of shit kid.

Where The Story Begins;

Entitled Fat Kid (EFK) was just such a kid. He'd waddle in out of nowhere with a paper bag full of cheese slices and a can of something or other, plop himself down on the ground in front of the demo DSes, yank off his shoes and socks, and just eat cheese, play his own DS, get shitty about other kids playing the public use DSes, and occasionally bother staff about the washrooms or buying him more pop, which he expected we'd just do out of our own wallets.

First few times he was there for about an hour or two, then put his shoes (not his socks, which were disgusting) back on and fuck off elsewhere. We figured it was another temporarily abandoned kid. And then we started getting the phone calls.

Me: Welcome to [REDACTED] where [SALES PITCH]. How can I help you?

Entitled Mom (EM): Is EFK there?

Me: Who?

EM: EFK. My son. Is he there?

Me: We dont have an EFK working here. Maybe try one of our other locations.

EM: [audibly irritated] No. He's there right now. I'm just making sure he's had his snack and gone to the bathroom. Apparently nobody there has been taking him when he needs to go so he's been wandering home instead.

Me: Um...what?

EM: Can I speak to your manager? I do t know what kind of a shit show you guys are running but I worked in childcare for years and when a child had to go, you dropped everything and took them to the washroom...

Me: Do you...Ma'am, do you think this is a daycare or something!?

EM: My sister does it all the time at [OTHER MALL] when she and her friends go shopping so...

Me: Yeah. No. Not a daycare. This is a place of business, not a childcare facility. Come get your kid.

EM: He's not bothering anyone. Just keep the other kids from getting up in his personal space and he'll be fine. [hangs up]

This continues every couple of days or so, usually with me fighting this lady on the phone about her kid and telling her to come grab her kid.

One day I decide I've had just about enough of this shitty little crotch goblin treating the store I'm in like his own personal clubhouse and trying to get us to let him play games he hasn't paid for, which his mother kept berating us for not letting him do. We never saw her. He'd just leave his trash in his usual spot and waddle out. When the call came in, she just straight started barking orders and I was 100% done.

Me: EFK isn't here. His uncle came and got him.

EM: ...what?

Me: Yeah. Sandy hair. Moustache. White dude. Maybe about 5'9 or so. Said he was his uncle. Took the kid by the hand and made for the food court. You might catch them there if you're around...

The line goes dead.

10 minutes later, a clone of God Warrior lady trundles in with two cops, breath that could stop a diesel train and a wicked bad attitude.

EM: YOU GAVE MY SON TO A PEDOPHILE! YOU'RE GOING TO JAIL!

Me: Your son? The halfway brain dead little shit eating his way into an early heart attack over there? I thought he might be yours. Yeah. He's fine, but we're throwing him out of the store and he's not coming back. Ever. We are not a fucking daycare service, lady. This is a place of business! If he's not buying, he's not welcome. You wanna ask my manager what she thinks of people dumping their kids in here? I'll go grab her.

Cop 1: So you didn't hand a child over to a...

Me: No, but I wouldn't know what any if these kids relatives look like because they just get dumped here and picked up later.

EM: If you look after theirs, how is my son any different?

Me: Do you...are you even a customer around here?

EM: I leave the shopping to his older sister. I dont shop here. I live across the street.

Cop 1: So you drop him off?

EM: [now lying through her teeth] I leave him right here at the door and it's never been a problem.

Eventually, Cop 2 talks to the kid and finds out that he more or less throws a handful of cheese products and a can of whatevers in the fridge into a bag and wanders off on his own. Across a busy 4 lane street with a light entitled fucks love to run, through a parking lot, and across the longest possible angle of the mall. EM keeps insisting that it's okay because none of the other kids in there have parents with them either and if we didn't want kids hanging out, we wouldn't have video games everywhere.

Things escalated once the cops, mall security drawn in by their fascination with real cops, several parents, a few adult customers, and the cute girl from the A&W all told her that the mall at large and this store in particular were not responsible for the health, safety, and well-being of her child.

Eventually, Piece Of Shit Dad (POSD) comes storming in.

He tries to hand me a $5. I decline. He tries to pretend that I've always pocketed $5 to take care of his kid. I refute that and ask the cops to get me something to write out a statement on. POSD gathers his son and wife and tries to leave after shoving a few DS game boxes (all empty because we're not stupid) into his sweatpants when he thought his wife had everyone distracted. The cops follow them.

Two days later, POSD comes in (in mid July, just after monsoon season around here) in a hoodie and sweatpants trying to get a refund on all the games he thought he stole. I told him to try opening the boxes. When he realized his master plan to get cash back for returning games he thought he stole wasn't going to work, he tried yelling at me for selling him empty cases and demanded a refund.

I asked him how having his kid around more often was working out for him, and he spat on the counter and stormed out. Never saw him or anyone else from his family again.