mr redder
Karen DEMANDS I Pay Off her BMW Loan! | Reddit Stories
Karen DEMANDS I Pay Off her BMW Loan! | Reddit Stories
Karen demanded I move from my table at the restaurant so she could sit there with her son. She then complained to the manager to the point where he had to call the cops on her. Once they arrived she still refused to cooperate, which resulted in Karen getting arrested! Subscribe for more reddit podcast stories.
Welcome to another episode of r/EntitledParents stories!
Here on the mr redder podcast YouTube channel we read stories about entitled people, entitled parents, and am i the jerk stories with Karen.
I'm a voice actor that narrates reddit stories. I record all of the VO and edit all videos myself. On this channel I play the roles of mr redder and Karen as we read reddit stories and discuss them. Story genres include entitled parents, revenge, malicious compliance, and AITA.
Our videos include music under a Creative Commons license (CC BY-SA 3.0) and background footage from Pexels, under the Pexels license. Every Saturday we release a longer compilation video which includes some of our best stories from last year. Subscribe for daily uploads!
😎 One of my favorite Karen Stories!
r/EntitledPeople - Smug Karen Demands I Pay Her Car Off! It Gets WORSE.
https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=Q30orqMRDto
mr redder podcast on Spotify - https://open.spotify.com/show/5ZVzMm0Pr3bwlM26VuVv8J
Karen and I can make a video for your special occasion! 👉 https://entitledparents.com/custom-message
Subscribe for the best stories from reddit every single day.
Background Footage: Pexels, under the Pexels license.
If you want your story removed from a video, please message me on Reddit at u/mr_reddit_YT and I will remove it.
Stories in this episode of r/entitledparents:Â
00:38 Karen Demands my Table, Gets Arrested!
04:07 AITA for leaving Thanksgiving Dinner?
06:33 Maternity Wear
#karenstories #redditpodcast #redditpodcaststories
Become a supporter of this podcast: https://www.spreaker.com/podcast/mr-redder--5571651/support.
- Duration:
- 34m
- Broadcast on:
- 16 Jul 2024
- Audio Format:
- mp3
- Hi, I'm Dalvik Quince. One way to help manage type two diabetes is to regularly exercise. My exercise program can help get you into a routine that works for you. Keep in mind, managing butte sugar also takes the right. - Diet, hi, I'm celebrity chef Franklin Becker. Ever since I was diagnosed with type two diabetes, I've adapted my cooking style without sacrificing flavor. If you wanna learn more tips about diet and exercise, visit mytype2transformation.com. (audience cheering) - Hey y'all, it's Lance Bass. Look, I love performing and giving my fans the best show, but itchy, flaky patches from plaque psoriasis can get in the way they're distracting and embarrassing. That's why I talk to my doctor. - Otesla of Premelast is a prescription medicine used to treat adult patients with plaque psoriasis for whom phototherapy or systemic therapy is appropriate. Otesla can help you get clearer skin after just four months. Lance is not an Otesla patient and has been compensated. Don't use Otesla if you're allergic to it. Serious allergic reactions can happen. Get medical help right away if you have trouble breathing or swallowing, swelling of the lips, tongue, throat or arms. Otesla may cause severe diarrhea, nausea or vomiting. Tell your doctor if these occur. Some people taking Otesla had depression, suicidal thoughts or weight loss. Tell your doctor if you have a history of depression or suicidal thoughts or if these feelings occur. Upper respiratory tract infection and headache may occur. Call 1-844-4-0-T-E-Z-L-A or visit otesla.com for prescribing and cost info. Ask your doctor about Otesla. - Hey there, Mr. Redder here. Welcome back to another episode of R/Intitled People Stories. Our first story we'll be reading today. My Karen's sister demands I pay off her BMW. After that, heck half no fury like me scorned. And after that, you can't get quarters from bug bites. Now for every thumbs up this video gets, one Karen does not get a BMW. I'd prefer DeLorean to be honest. So thumbs up for Back to the Future and subscribe and turn on notifications for new stories from Reddit every single day. My Karen's sister demands I pay off her BMW. About a year ago, my sister, G, who's 23, bought a BMW she couldn't afford. She also had a bad habit of getting expensive items for TikTok and Instagram posts. I lucked out on hitting the jackpot with my wife and job. My wife typically makes a lot more money than I do, but she's currently on bed rest with a difficult pregnancy. It has been almost two months. It will last the rest of the pregnancy. She is inherited a plastic anemia. While we have some savings, we live within our means, with two paid off cars and a nice two bedroom house. My dad, who speaks English as a second language, calls me upset that someone is trying to steal my sister's car. It was being repossessed for non-payment. I called my sister and asked what was going on. She first said she was one month behind, then admitted she was three months behind. She said she would have the money next week. She never called the car dealership to follow up and the car was sold, sticking my sister with the remaining balance. Now she doesn't have a car and is driving my dad's older Jeep. I have offered my car for her to use, but it's a Toyota and she rejected it. She's been harassing both of my parents because she says I could have lent her the money and my wife is lazy about her pregnancy. Now I'm getting unwanted advice about getting my wife back to work since she has worked from home previously. My wife is sick. I'm already worried about her health. She's losing weight around the six months and isn't eating well. My sister has told me our mom had seven kids and my wife is milking the pregnancy for attention. At this point, I cut my sister off and stopped going to my parents' house where she lives. A few family members think I'm the jerk for not helping my sister financially with a car that she couldn't afford in the first place. Not the jerk. Your sister sounds like an entitled brat. You do not owe her anything. Her lack of concern for your wife and her unborn niece or nephew is incorrigible. She is an adult now and needs to start acting like one. Not the jerk. You're a good person for sticking by your wife and your sister is an entitled child and who is in for a rude awakening. When adults buy things, they cannot afford subsequent payments on. This is what happens. The family members who are behind her are enabling this entitlement. You're the jerk. I had a cousin who won the lottery many years ago and refused to help anyone in the family. Even in 2009, when my family had our home foreclosed on. Again, lottery winner cousin didn't lift a finger to help. What your sister asked for was next to nothing and you couldn't even be bothered with it? I hope you feel good about yourself and how privileged you are. Well, what do you think? Should OP have given money to his sister or not? Please let us know. Too bad, so sad. Should have bought a DeLorean instead, baby mama. Heck, half no theory like me scorned. This story starts 31 years ago, but the revenge part was pure serendipity that began two years ago. I'm going to shorten most parts because it's a crazy ride, but I'll be happy to answer any questions y'all have. I learned a ton on this journey and part of the reason for this write-up is to share that with others. The beginning. In 1990, when I was just out of middle school and my sister was still in elementary, my dad met his third wife at the only gas station in our town. They soon moved in together and he abandoned us in our old basement apartment to live in a shanty house boat that didn't run to live with her. He would show up every other week and give me $40 for groceries. Eventually, someone figured out the situation and called my mom. We went to live with her, which was, believe it or not, worse. My dad and his shanty wife got married in 1991. Not long after, she called me and told me that my dad's brain tumor had returned, it hadn't, and that he couldn't handle the stress of being around us, that the only people he could bear to be around were her and her son, Shorty, who was my age. When I called my dad to ask if this was true, he said it wasn't and he just couldn't believe that she would say that to begin with. That was one of our last conversations until two years ago, the middle. There's not much in this part. I worked my way through college, living in my car from time to time. My dad and I were no contact, but I heard from family that he had bought a house and put his son through some vocational classes. When my grandmother passed, Shorty and shanty wife showed up in a truck and took all the furniture and anything else that wasn't tied down or already gone. Eventually, I went no contact with my dad's side of the family. I struggled for years, decades, really, but I made it. And I have a great job and a good family now. The best revenge is living well, right? The pre-end warm-up. Two years ago, October of 2019, I got a call from my dad's brother, Alan. He told me my dad was in a nursing home in another state. Great, and I needed to go see him because he needed my help. What the heck? Shorty had ghosted him. The nursing home, coincidentally, was about 20 minutes from my house and I saw an opportunity and I went. The reunion was underwhelming. I didn't want to make amends, but I did want to hear how he wound up dumped and all alone in another state. And it was a really, really good story. Shanty wife had got lung cancer and put my dad in a nursing home before she passed in 2017. Shorty became his power of attorney when she passed and had been visiting my dad, living in my dad's house with his two kids and taking care of my dad's affairs since his mom passed. But now, he was MIA. And my dad was worried about him. He asked me to drive the hour and a half to his house to check on everything. That's all he wanted. He never even asked me how I had been. I agreed to go. I think out of morbid curiosity, I'd never even been to my dad's house. I did want to see where he lived with his real family for 30 years. I wanted to see what could have been my life. It was 50 shades of awful. The grass hadn't been cut all summer. You couldn't get to the front door from the overgrowth. There were three pickup trucks in the yard. Two were full of trash. Cabs and beds and backseeds, just trash. Mail, clothes, paper, shoes, garbage bags. I couldn't understand it. My dad's handicap modified SUV was on four flats and full of garbage too. I didn't have a key, so I just walked around. From what windows I could look through, the inside was in shambles and hoarded to heck. On the front and cardboard doors were dozens of notices from the city that they were going to condemn the place. The carport was also hoarded. Boxes and boxes stacked on each other, most rotting from the rain. The yard was full of garbage, broken Christmas ornaments, more shoes, rusted tools, old toys. There was a letter in the mailbox notifying him that since the house was abandoned, mail would not be delivered anymore. That night, I googled powers of attorney and how to use them. I went back the next day and showed my bed bound dad, the pictures on my phone. He vowed to beat Shorty up, then asked me to help more. I told him I would, but he'd have to sign power of attorney over to me. All of it, durable, financial and medical. If he didn't, he could figure this stuff out by himself. He agreed, so I said about finding a lawyer who would drive to another state and do the paperwork in the nursing home. Save big this summer with great deals, all in the King Supers app. Get select varieties of power aid or Body Armor Super drinks for $0.79 each, then get 16-ounce packs of organic strawberries for $2.49 each, all with your card and a digital coupon. Shop these deals at your local Kroger today or tap the screen now to download the King Supers app to save big today. King Supers, fresh for everyone, prices and product availability subject to change, restrictions apply, see site for details. - Bless that lawyer for being so good at his job because all I did was tell him what I knew and he put together beautifully bulletproof POA. It was full of stuff I didn't even know I would need. He also filed the paperwork to revoke Shorty's POA and now I'm unstoppable. We're from a small rural town and it's the kind of creepy landlocked place that no matter how long you've been gone or how far away you've been, when you go back, you'll see someone you know. Even if you don't know, you know them. It's like playing seven degrees of everybody all the time, it's suffocating. But it can also be helpful. The beginning of the end. I got to work the next morning. I didn't know how scorched the earth would be when I finished and I didn't want Shorty or anyone from his prolific inbred family trying to find me. So I made sure nothing I did had my name on it. I opened a Google account for my dad and got a Google number. I opened a PO box for him in his town. I put in a mail forwarding notice. I pulled his credit report. I took the POA to my dad's small town bank, changed the address on his accounts, and got new account numbers. I requested copies of every transaction back to the day Shanty wife had passed, about 13 months worth. I had to go to the main branch, two hours from my house, the next day to pick the records up. I sat in the lobby all afternoon, going through the account. I cornered a service rep and got a crash course in his debits and deposits. This is when I figured out the extent of Shorty's staggering stupidity. My dad got about 5,000 a month in disability and social security every month. Twice a week, Shorty was going into a branch and withdrawing cash, all of the cash, for 13 months. And every time he did it, as the POA, he had to sign a form stating that he was acting on behalf of my dad, and that form was notarized by the bank. I went through every withdrawal and got the bank to confirm that every one of them was made by Shorty. Then I went to the house and called a locksmith. I knew it was bad, but I had no idea what was waiting for me there. He got the first door open and the stench rolled out like a fog bank. We both gagged. Two locks later, I was so embarrassed by what he had to see and smell, I gave him a $60 tip. And with shiny new keys in hand, I called the cops. I told them I was POA for my dad, was checking on his house and there were three vehicles there that didn't belong to him. He asked me if I knew who they belonged to. I said no and I wanted them towed. He told me to call a tow company and he would meet them there. They showed up with two wreckers. The tow truck guy got out and asked me for a signature. I only signed my first name. As I was signing, he asked, "Do you know Shorty?" Running on pure hatred at this point, I surprised myself, "Do you?" I asked. He said he did and that he's a jerk. I responded, "He might be. Hey, can you do me a favor? If you see him, will you tell him, "M-N-W-N-M is coming for him?" His bravado evaporated. He knows a crazy when he sees one. They towed the trucks. When everyone was gone, I opened the door in the carport to peek in. The sun was going down and it was dark in the house. I heard something faint and after some seconds, realized it was the roaches and the rats doing their roach and rat stuff. I could smell it all in my hair. I sat on the carport steps and watched the sun go down. I was mad, just so cosmically vivid that 72 hours was all it took to dissolve three decades and here I was, stinking and listening to the rats and cleaning everyone else's crap up, taking time away from my family and for what? I had it coming to Jesus with myself. I could either bow out now or double down and the thing is, I'm tenacious to a fault. I had to beat to survive and this was a bone I couldn't put down. The thought of Shorty's life being upended has only source of income, probably, disappearing literally overnight and my dad having to hear second hand from me that he's broken alone made me absolutely giddy. I desperately wanted them both to lose what they had left. So I decided I was going to triple dog down. That night, I googled restraining orders and it was surprisingly easy to get one. I went to the courthouse in my hometown, went to the clerk's office and told her I needed a restraining order. I filled the form in at a rickety little table while I was there. I wasn't prepared to see a judge that day, but she took the form and said, okay, I'll see if the judge is still here. That kind of scared me. She took me to his chambers and as I was waiting, I looked around and saw he had certificates of appreciation hanging up from various veterans groups. Then I wiped my palms and thought, fish in a barrel. He asked about my dad's stint in the Marines and about the DOD office logo on my sweater. I'm a contractor. He read my form and granted the temporary order. I would have to go back for the permanent one where Shorty would be able to argue against it. Then I went home and googled biohazard companies and elder treatment statutes in my state. I hired a biohazard company to shovel all the crap out of the house for $7,000. I would have paid double. They found my dad's mummified dog under some pizza boxes in the master bedroom. They sent me pictures and salvaged some papers. Shorty was served during this time and a hearing was set. I got to work collecting and documenting crap. I made pictures and spreadsheets and timelines with cross references because now they had my full attention. The paid versions of Truthfinder and Trello seriously got me through all this. In my spare time, I went to the nursing home and gave my dad eight by 10 copies of the pictures of his dead dog from every angle. Before court, I went to the police station nearby and told them that I wanted to report an elder mistreatment crime. A white collar detective came out and told me it was a domestic matter and that since Shorty had been POA, everything he had done was legal. And this was the day I got to teach a small town detective about the fiduciary responsibilities of a POA. Thanks, Google. I handed him a copy of the statute with the applicable sections highlighted. Then I handed him a thick folder with bang statements, pictures of the hoarded house and the dead dog, a copy of my dad's credit report that showed he was tens and tens of thousands of dollars in debt and his spreadsheet listing every cash withdrawal with a running total of the stolen amounts. The grand total was just over $130 in cash. That's not including the lost value of the house or the credit cards he opened and used. I told him he could keep that folder since it wasn't the only one I had. Then I told him I would wait for a case number and I sat down. He came back about 30 minutes later and apologized, said I had a case and gave me a case number. Then I headed over to the courthouse. This is the end. There were other people there and I had to wait my turn. And while I was waiting, that stupid jerk walked his sloppy self into the courtroom by himself and obviously, literally, non-metaphorically, dirty. His shoes were untied and that turned my giggle box over. Then it was our turn and we stood up. The same judge asked me some questions, asked him some questions and asked me if I had any proof. I had a very thick folder of it. The judge asked me if I'd gone to the police. Well, yes, sir, I have. Do you have a case number? As a matter of fact, the order was granted permanently and for life, but not before the judge halted proceedings and told Shorty he needed a lawyer. Someone told me that the courthouse would have a copy of my dad's DD-214, discharge papers. So while I was there, I got a copy of those because why not? I also used my POA to take Shanty wife off the deed to the house. That way, if my dad passed and it went into probate, Shorty had no immediate claim. I also went and got copies of my dad's birth certificate and Shanty's wife's death certificate. Technically, step kids can't request that kind of info. But the clerk who waited on me recognized my dad's name and told me she had hooked up with my uncle Alan in the '60s and went to my grandparents' funeral. So I got all the forms I wanted. Shanty wife left my dad $50,000 in life insurance. About $35,000 of that was left since Shorty was spending my dad's money and not his mom's. So I opened an ally account and transferred every penny over. Then I set up recurring transfers for the monthly deposits. At any given time, there was no more than $100 in his account. I also found a house flipper that paid me enough for the house to pay off his mortgage. That's the thing about probate. There's nothing to fight over if there's nothing there. And I made sure there was nothing there. My dad passed, thinking he's still owned a house. Speaking of which, this is about the time I found my dad's life insurance policies. They were up to date and Shanty wife was the beneficiary. My POA didn't allow me to change beneficiaries, but it allowed me to assign them. And since Shanty wife was gone, there was technically no beneficiary. This is where the death certificates came in handy. I assigned my sister and me as beneficiaries. Irrevocable too, which means that the only way to change that is for my dad and me and my sister to agree to it. I kept my dad in the dark about all this. The only thing he ever really knew about was the restraining order and his dog. I found out that he had purchased the grave site next to Shanty wife and wanted to be buried next door. That was just never going to happen. I googled national cemeteries and found out he qualified to be in one since he was a disabled Vietnam era veteran. So I arranged for that instead. All the cherries on top. My dad passed in June this year and I was there. He's buried in a national cemetery far away where no one will ever go visit him. The only obituary I ran was on the funeral home's website and that only for insurance purposes. I wrote it as vague as possible. There was no service. His urn is purple, the color he hated most. I got a call in August from the prosecutor's office in my hometown. The lady on the other end is married to my first cousin because of course she is. That's how it works there. Shorty was arrested just after midnight on July 1st, was still in jail and had been arraigned on felony elder mistreatment charges. He's facing 10 years in FPMITA prison now. She told me not to expect the trial anytime soon as it can take up to three years for that to happen. I told her that was awesome since the uncertainty will hopefully haunt him and after all that, he still got prison to look forward to. He lost his kids. He lost his dad. I'm spending his mom's money. He lost his free house and trucks. He has no credit and will never be able to get any sort of decent job and will. Hopefully for a long time, not be able to find a decent place to live. And I sleep like a baby. You can't get quarters from bug bites. When I was in the army, my unit had a training day one day where we did tactical movements and closed quarter combat with paintball guns. It was pretty fun, except it was in Texas and the middle of summer in a training area full of tall grass that I ended up crawling around in a lot. I didn't notice any problems until a couple hours later when I was getting ready to head home and my legs started burning. I pulled my boots off and rolled my pants up and my feet and legs up to mid thigh were swollen and covered in hundreds of angry red welts. Apparently I'd crawled through a nest of chiggers, tiny biting bugs common in America that are apparently called trombicalidae officially. And they had gone to town on my legs, bad enough to provoke an allergic reaction. I drive myself to the emergency room at the base hospital and while I'm waiting to be seen and feeling more and more terrible but needing to focus on something else, I started counting the bites. I stopped when I got to 100 and that was just on the inside of my right calf. The doctor had never seen anything like it and I ended up getting a massive dose of antibiotics and inflamatories, all hospital grade and with serious side effects of their own as well as four days of quarters, the military equivalent of being told to stay home and don't come into work. My girlfriend came and picked me up from the hospital and drove me home because at that point I was in no state to drive myself between the allergic reaction and the meds I was on to treat it. On the way home, I called my sergeant to let him know about my situation so he can get word up the chain of command. About an hour after that, I get a call from the first sergeant, the senior most NCO in the unit, herself. Now she was one of the most incompetent first sergeants I ever worked with during my time in the army, constantly making terrible decisions, mindlessly greenlighting whatever terrible decision are equally incompetent captain came up with and micromanaging people unnecessarily. She tells me that my quarters have been revoked by the captain and that I have to come in the following day. I tell her that I'm holding orders in my hand from a doctor who's also a lieutenant colonel that I'm supposed to take time off to recover. She responds with, you can't get quarters from bug bites and rants at me that I'm just malingering and trying to get out of work. There was no way I could possibly seriously be ill from just some bug bites. I tried to explain that I had had an allergic reaction but she wasn't having it, insisting I was a liar and a bad soldier because of it. I was to be at formation the next morning at zero nine because of the extensive exercise we all got at the training event, they'd canceled PT for the day. With my supposed quarter slip and they would decide then if they were going to punish me more for trying to pull this stunt. Cue malicious compliance. Okay, I wore my PT uniform, a T-shirt and shorts. Rather than our fatigues the next day and had my girlfriend drive me in. I was still too messed up from the bites and meds to drive. I figured if I was going to get in trouble anyways, being in the wrong uniform would be the least of my worries. But my bare legs inside showed off the literal hundreds of now angrily red, almost purple or black in some cases, huge wells on my legs. The skin was more wealth than not by the next morning. And I walked up showing off that rather horrific sight to my entire company of more than a hundred enlisted, NCOs and officers. Literally everyone who sees me is like goodness, question, what the heck happened to your legs? It's clear to every single person in the company that I am actually legitimately having an allergic reaction just by sight alone. The first sergeant hears people making a ruckus, sees me and turns bright red, knowing she messed up when she hears me answering warrant officers including my direct supervisor asking, why are you here if you're that sick? With first sergeant made me come in and told me that you can't get quarters because of bug bites. Within 10 minutes I've handed in a copy of my quarter slip, gotten a quiet and very private apology from the first sergeant and was sent home for the next four days. Would I be the jerk for taking everything in my dad's will? I, 38, have been no contact with my dad and two younger siblings for many years. My dad always treated me like crap because he was convinced that my mom cheated on him because she did a lot and trapped him into a crappy marriage and that I was not biologically his. From my 13th birthday my dad bought me a paternity test and even though the test results came back that I am indeed his, he accused me or my mother of hooking up with the test guy. I have also done an ancestry DNA test and also matched with all his relatives. So I'm pretty sure that unfortunately he is my biological dad. I've known for a long time that my younger sister was not my dad's. When I did my ancestry DNA test my sister wanted to get one done too. My mom freaked out, admitted her indiscretion and begged me to convince my sister that it was a waste of money and that she could just have a copy of my results. I did because I thought I was protecting her and she was going through a rough time at the time. I recently got a notification about an ancestry DNA match. I looked it up and it looks like my brother's ex-wife got one of the kids for both of my brother's kids. And lo and behold, my brother's kids only seem to share relatives from my mom's side. FYI, my profile uses a screen name so she would not have recognized who I was. My brother and sister have been really crappy to me for years, comments about how I owed their dad for him putting a roof over my head as a child and how dare I accept items from their grandmother's estate, et cetera. I put up with it for years because they are younger and honestly not that bright. I thought they'd come around eventually. My dad made sure in a drunken fight with my mother to give me a copy of his will, still have it, so that I knew that he had put a stipulation in there about his estate being divided amongst his biological kids. I know that he has not changed his will since because his mental capacity has changed, TMI. Would I be the jerk if I did not tell my siblings and just let this play out at the wheel reading? Take everything and kick them out of the family home? I would also be setting up funds for my nephew since my loser brother doesn't pay child support. My husband thinks that this is stooping to their level as they both rely on his estate currently for survival, so this will ruin them. They have no education or way to support themselves currently, but I kind of want to stoop. Reply, check with a lawyer. Due to the stipulation in your will, you will need to demand a DNA test. Would recommend you not stir the pot for now. All it will do is put your siblings on the defensive and they will probably start some expensive shenanigans. Wait to let the drama unfold at the will reading. Make sure the will is kept somewhere safe. If they know they will not inherit it, they will try to destroy that will. Not the jerk, but I think he will be unpleasantly surprised if you expect to wave around an ancestry test at a will reading and magically the estate goes to you. If there's real money involved, including value of the house, I think you consult a lawyer now while he's still alive. I'm sorry you have a crappy dad and siblings. Christian, holier than now, entitled mom is back. This time, I'm not so nice. To give some background, every Christmas, me and my wife do our own version of Secret Santa, where we find some family in our church or surrounding community that is very financially strained and might not be able to afford Christmas gifts that year and buy gifts for everyone in that family. This has been the fourth year we've done this, and quite frankly, it's a very rewarding experience to deliver holiday joy to a family in need. We mainly find our families secretly by asking church friends if they might know of a family that is going through a very tough time financially. Most of the time, the family either knows a secret Santa is helping that year or has completely blindsided Christmas morning with special delivery. Although due to lockdown, we plan to load the presents on the doorstep and ring the doorbell as we get the family's reaction from the sidewalk. Now onto the story. We got our information for two separate families that needed help this year, and me and my wife were planning out which gifts to buy for both families, gift budget, et cetera. During our brainstorming session, I got a phone call from a number I didn't recognize. When I picked up, it was a kid's voice informing me that my mother would like to talk to you. I could hear the kid hand the phone to someone else, and then I was greeted by a familiar voice, the entitled mom of the story, AKA Friends and, entitled mom. Hello, OP. Me. Eyes growing wide and silently cursing under my breath. Entitled mom? To what do I owe the pleasure? Entitled mom. Well, I'm glad you asked. My nephew mentioned during a family Zoom call earlier that you were buying Christmas gifts for random strangers this year and how commendable your charitable giving was. Me, mildly flattered at my friend's words, but at the same time wishing that he just kept his mouth shut. Well, he is correct. I am doing a secret Santa this year. Perfect, that's why I wanted to call you. Me, you know of a family in need? Yeah, me. One thing I should point out about entitled mom that I learned from my friend is that she used to be married to a rich guy whose family owns some oil fields. From what I understand, when they divorced, she didn't get ownership of the family's assets. Despite this, she still stuck the guy with alimony and gained 70% custody of their child. Back to the story, me. You need help? Entitled mom. Yes! You see, I really wanted to get my son a PS5 for Christmas and since my gift budget has already strained this year, I'd figured you could step up and help me bring him some holiday joy. Me, already suspecting that something is very suspicious here. What do you mean that your gift budget is already strained? Well, my car broke down and I decided to buy a new one. Me. Well, that's unfortunate. Hopefully your new car is reliable. Sure is. I decided to treat myself to an early Christmas gift and watch one of those brand new Cadillac escalates. I just so happened to have my Chromebook in front of me during the call, so I used it to look up the MSRP for a new escalate, which had a starting price of above $75,000. At that moment, a very cold anger had started to arise in me, much akin to my previous encounter with the entitled mom. Here she is, again, trying to take advantage of me just to get a PS5 for her kid while she blows money on a Cadillac. She could have bought a much cheaper car and could still have money left over for multiple PS5s and could have still had money left over to buy gifts for multiple families. My wife could see that I was not in a good mood and looked concerned as I walked into my office. I may have been nice to the entitled mom before, but this time I was going to give her a piece of my mind entitled mom. So going back to the PS5, if you could get one with a few gains, me cutting her off. No. Excuse me? Me. I will not be buying your son a PS5 for Christmas, but he really wants one. Are you going to deny a kid's wish? Me. Let me tell you something about my charitable giving. It goes to families that barely have enough to get by at the end of the day and are staring down the barrel of choosing between wind or Christmas gifts, not entitled people like you who have poor spending habits entitled mom scuffs. Why, I never, how dare you? Me. Look who's talking. You obviously have more than enough money to purchase an SUV that costs more than a blue collar income. Yet here you are trying to bum a free PS5 off of me, all because your budget is strained. If your budget is so strained, then why don't you sell that overpriced car and buy one yourself? You should watch your tongue. You know, the Bible says that the younger generation should be subject to your elders. This pushed me over the edge. At this point, I was fuming and had decided it was time to burn a bridge with entitled mom. Me. You know what? Maybe if you spent more time actually reading your Bible instead of thumping it all the time, you'd actually be more thoughtful of people other than yourself. Heck, maybe you'd be the one doing the secret Santa. Don't you ever call my phone again. Clearly you are someone who is not worth wasting my time on. I'd wish you a merry Christmas, but maybe even that's too good for you. Hangs up. I blocked the number and proceeded to text my friend to make sure that his aunt never contacts me again. Oddly enough, I didn't need to take time to calm down. Telling entitled mom off was actually quite cathartic. Support our channel by joining as a member today and we'll give you a shout out in our next video. Or come watch this video next. You won't believe what Karen does in that one.