mr redder
Karen Believes Hurricane is No Excuse for Lack of Service! | Reddit Stories
Karen Believes Hurricane is No Excuse for Lack of Service! | 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
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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:
- 2h 37m
- Broadcast on:
- 01 Jul 2024
- Audio Format:
- mp3
Well, we got a minute, and I'm gonna buy that truck I've been wanting. Wait, don't you need, like, weeks to shop for a car? I don't. Carvana makes it super convenient to find exactly what I want. Hold up. You're buying a car on your phone? Isn't that more of a laptop thing? You can shop wherever you want. I like to do my research. Read reviews, compare models. Plus, Carvana has thousands of options. How'd you decide on that truck? Because I like it. Oh, that is a great reason. Go to Carvana.com to sell your car the convenient way. Did I hear you're shopping for a car? Because I've been at it for ages. Such a time suck, right? Not really. I bought it on Carvana. Super convenient. Oh, then comes all the financing, research, am I right? Well, you can, but I got pre-qualified for a Carvana auto loan in, like, two minutes. Yeah, but then all the number crunching in terms, right? Nope. I saw real numbers as I shopped, found my dream car, and got it in a couple of days. Wait, like, you already have it? Yep. Go to Carvana.com to finance your car the convenient way. Entitled Mother believes Hurricane is no excuse for lack of service. Hi, all. So this is my first time posting on here. And to be honest, I don't post a lot in general. So I would just like to start to apologize if my format isn't up to par with the quality you are used to. Anywho, let's get into it. A little background. So I worked for one of the big internet service providers here in the US, taking calls in regards to issues with internet and phone. Throughout my time with this company, we will just use ISP going forward. I have unsurprisingly encountered many entitled people over the phone. However, some truly do tend to rise above the others. To get you a setting for this one, this occurred last year during Hurricane Florence that swept through South Carolina. Now, I may have been naive at the time, but I figured that during the storm, we wouldn't get many calls from people who are actually in path of the storm. Rather, those more on the outskirts still affected by it. However, to my surprise, the vast majority were those in the storm as it was landing. This story is one of those calls. It being a year ago, the exact dialogue is a bit hazy, but it essentially went like this. Hello, thank you for calling us. My name is Nef Daddy. How may I assist you today? Yes, I am calling because all my services are out. What the heck kind of business are you running? I'm terribly sorry to hear that. We definitely want to get this resolved for you as soon as possible. What's your address so I can look you up on your account? Entitled Mom then gives me her address, and I instantly know it is due to the storm that is literally just landing on the coast. I look up the account just to confirm, and indeed, they are in an outage. Well, ma'am, it seems to be you are in an outage due to the hurricane that is going on. I don't care about your excuses, I just want my crap fixed now. My babies need something to do to keep their mind off of what's going on outside. I am dumbfounded by what she is saying. Ma'am, there is a hurricane going through your area as we speak. With the damages it is causing, we do expect loss of service. I am sorry that this is happening, but there is nothing we can do right now. Boo crap, you need to send someone out here, right now. Excuse me, are you asking us to send someone out to your home during the hurricane? Don't make me repeat myself, my babies need their internet and TV to work. What are we supposed to do during this? Well ma'am, we are not sending someone out to you. There is a state emergency, and people were supposed to evacuate. We will not be sending someone into your area until the storm has passed. We already did evacuate. This is our second home, and is more inland. So at this point, I am thinking I had looked up the wrong account, even though she had given me that address. So I asked for the other address. Her second home is right on the shore, and the one she is staying in is only 30 minutes inland. Ma'am, I see that you are only 30 minutes from the shore. This is still an area we expected to be more than likely out, since the hurricane was going to be hitting your area. Once again, we cannot and will not be sending someone out until after the storm passes. There is a hurricane. I heard silence for a moment on the other side, thinking I had finally got my point across. However, entitled Ma'am said the most entitled, and honestly dumbest thing I have ever heard. Well, there may be a hurricane going on, but that is not my problem. That is your problem, and you need to send someone out here right now. If you will not send someone out, I will talk to your supervisor. At this point, I had had enough. Plus, she said the magic words. I gladly tell her I will get someone on the line, so they can talk further. I get the call to someone in my leadership team, and lo and behold, we didn't send out some poor guy to fix her services in the middle of 100 mph wins. Anywho, that is just one of many. Anybody who actually stuck it out to the end appreciate it. I know this isn't as juicy as some of the others on here, but I thought I'd give a go at contributing. If you liked this, let me know. My co-workers and I have many other stories. Next, we've got entitled parents stupidity. Hello there. I've been watching your videos, along with other YouTubers, like more who do these. To be honest, when I first read about them, I was like, no, these kinds of people can't be real. It's too stupid, but boy was I wrong. I had an encounter recently, and I wasn't too sure who to post too first. But then I remembered you did the funny and entertaining voices. So before I start, I'd like to point out that I am a South African. Yes, yes, I know. South Africa has internet. How is that possible? So my spelling will be different, so don't attack me for that. It's like how Americans in British say one word, but pronounce it differently. Also, this took place a few days ago, so let's meet the cast. We've got me. Typical young guy doing what he does casually. We've got the entitled parent and the entitled kid. So here's the backstory. Because I'm in a country most of you haven't been to, I stay in a town that you will all find impossible to pronounce if you see the name. The big thing about this small town I live in is that it's on the doorstep to one of the most famous game reserves in Africa. The Kruger National Park. Let's call it K&P, so you don't have to say the name. It's long. Anyways, I'm busy doing my early evening jogs when I see this woman and her kid, about 10 or 12, trying to enter the bush through one of the many paths. Because my town borders the park, there are the occasional animals that get out. We have about two to three hippos roaming my area at night, and five leopards in the bushes around the town. So seeing this, I rush up to them and warn them about the danger. It's almost 6 p.m. and it gets dark around this time of the year. June equals winter. Also, I have no idea what a real Karen looks like or what the "I wish to speak to your manager". Haircut looks like, so I guess try and imagine that in your head, because she sure as heck acted like one. Um, excuse me, I wouldn't go through the bush there if I were you. I say this politely and slowly, just in case she didn't speak English. And why should I listen to you? Stupid brat. Yes, she said that. I'm 25, and I know I look like I'm between 16 and 18. My secret is that I discovered the elixir of life, the Fountain of Youth. It's called shaving and looking after yourself. Because I know this area, I've been living in the town for most of my life. It's not safe or advisable to go through there, even if it's a shortcut. Why? Because you're going to mug and attack us like every non-American does in Africa? What that kid said was disturbing. I don't know what movies portray Africa as that bad. But South Africa is the most modern and developed country in all of Africa, even if we are still a developing country. Yes, what my darling said is true. Are you going to call your stupid friends to assault us? My God, these people are stupid. What gives them the right to insult me when I'm trying to make them aware of the danger? Still bothers me. No, that's not the reason. This town is not exactly safe at night. We have the park like five minutes away from here, and there are wild animals. Hippos and leopards to be precise. Nonsense! The zookeepers wouldn't allow their animals to walk free. You're lying! I face palmed at this. This woman was stupid. Here's a fun fact, my non-African friends. This park is not a zoo. England, not the UK, just England, can fit inside the park, and the animals roam free to do as they please. There are camps that are enclosed so people can spend time there, but animals are free. Ma'am, that's false. The closest zoo to here is a five to six hour drive away. This is a game reserve. Conservation Reserve. Like Kenya and Tanzania in Central Africa have the Serengeti. We have the KNP. There are fences between us and the animals, but those don't keep them out all the time. Years ago, a person was attacked and eaten by a lion not far from where we are. I'm asking you to not go through there since it's not safe. Hippos and leopards are nocturnal animals, and hippos have heard more people than any other animal in Africa. Whatever you lying piece of trash, we are more superior because you're African and we are not. We do things our way, even in other countries. You should show us respect and worship the ground we work on. In fact, if it were not for superior people like me, you wouldn't have those clothes on your back. All these nice towns you live in. Our money supports your pathetic country. We build everything for you. I am shocked. Even now typing this, I am shocked. This woman was so entitled, it was pathetic, and she is all so stupid. People like her build the cities and towns in South Africa? Obviously, wherever she came from didn't do history on South Africa. Not that I blame that, but South Africa had a dark history with the colonial rule and the apartheid regime. People like her sure as heck did not build anything in Africa. So I basically turned around and left them, not wanting to get involved in their stupidity anymore. As this happened, I felt something collide with the back of my head and see that the kid was laughing. A marula fruit in his hand while the other than hippie was rolling on the ground near my feet. So on my way back for my jog, I see the two of them sitting on the road, looking like Satan had cursed them. Their faces were as white as paper, and judging from the bad smell, the entitled kid most probably soiled himself. Upon spotting me, the entitled mom gave me a sour look. You, I will sue you for this. How dare you set that creature on us? You traumatized me and my precious angel. She was screaming this at the top of her lungs. I found this amusing. In my mind, I imagined her growing an extra head that began shouting... Now most of you reading this will think I'm making up this story just to get views. I don't blame you, but one thing about me is that I'm laid back, and if there are stupid people around, which I am almost constantly surrounded by, I adapt. Now, as I was about to say some smart alec comeback, I noticed something not that far behind the fools in the bush. It wasn't fully dark, so I could definitely see that a hippo bull was slowly making its way towards us. Now my heart skipped a beat. I suggest you both shut up and run. And like that, I turned around and began sprinting my fastest down the road. Hippos, especially the males, are easily provoked from loud sounds like the entitled mom screeching, and another thing, hippos are fast. They might look slow and fat, but those animals can easily outrun the fastest athletes in the world. I've had a few closing counters with them at night, and at one point I was forced to climb a tree because I know I can't outrun them. I heard the entitled mom and her son both scream when they saw why I ran, so I'm gonna guess they saw it and also ran for it, which is fine for me. It saved me from the outbursts of a stupid entitled woman and her demon spawn. So here's a fun fact for all of you non-afrogance when you visit South Africa, especially areas near the K&P. Don't assume you have more rights than others. You're in the wild, so animals have more rights than you. Listen to people who warn you. Don't go walking around dusk or night if you're not from the area, and don't. I mean don't. Enter the bush after 4pm. Did I hear you're shopping for a car because I've been at it for ages. Such a time suck, right? Not really. I bought it on Carvana. Super convenient. Oh, then comes all the financing, research, am I right? Well, you can, but I got pre-qualified for a Carvana auto loan in like two minutes. Yeah, but then all the number crunching in terms, right? Nope, I saw real numbers as I shopped, found my dream car, and got it in a couple of days. Wait, like you already have it? Yep. Go to Carvana.com to finance your car the convenient way. What's the easiest choice you can make? Window instead of middle seat? Picking a vendor who sends a great gift basket, outsourcing business tasks you hate. What about selling with Shopify? Whether you're selling a little or a lot, Shopify helps you do your thing. However you ch-ching, Shopify is the global commerce platform that helps you sell at every stage of your business. From the launch your online shop stage to the first real life store stage, all the way to the did we just hit a million orders stage? Shopify is there to help you grow. Whether you're selling scented soap or offering outdoor outfits, Shopify helps you sell wherever and whatever you're selling. Shopify's got you covered. Sign up for a $1 per month trial period at Shopify.com/try. Go to Shopify.com/try now to grow your business, no matter what stage you're in. Shopify.com/try. Even if it's a shortcut and there are paths, these animals are wild and not cuddly like their fellow zoo inmates. These animals can hurt you if provoked enough, especially hippos. Well, that's it for my first post here on Reddit, and I hope you had a good laugh with my story. And like I said, I'm South African, so my English will be completely different than English used in America or the UK. Cheers everyone! Edit. Also, feel free to ask me for more stories. I may not have any more entitled parent stories to tell from South Africa, but there are a lot of stories I have from South Africa that will make you laugh. The only other entitled stories I have are when I was in France for a few weeks. And our final story of the day, entitled sibling, Little Sister From Heck, thinks I'm obligated to listen to and act upon her advice. Context. Background. At age 14, I was diagnosed with Asperger's Syndrome. At the time, it wasn't considered part of the autism spectrum, but was thought to be a separate but related condition. In 2013, it officially became a spectrum disorder. I also have both generalized and social anxiety disorders. This story takes place in 2015. We'd finished a late breakfast with my mom, my stepfather, some family friends, my sister, and myself. The story. It starts politely enough. Little Sister approaches me after I'm done cleaning up the dishes and says, "Hey, have you ever considered going to something like Otacon?" I have several geeky autistic friends, and it's really helped them out with it. Otacon, for those unaware, is a huge anime convention in Baltimore. One of my exes went there frequently. I have no idea if he still does, though. I am absolutely a huge sci-fi fantasy geek, and I do have several anime I adore, though I'm not necessarily a fan of the entire medium of anime. I am, however, a fan of great storytelling and fantastic characters, and I'll consume anything that has those things, regardless of medium. I actually take a moment to consider the idea. I know she's trying to be helpful in her own way. She's been trying to mend fences with me for a while now. After thinking about it for a moment, I reply, truthfully. Well, I'm happy it's had a good impact on your friends, and I appreciate the suggestion, but I'm afraid that it won't have the same effect on me. Crowds make me feel really claustrophobic, and all of the people noise would probably send me into sensory overload, meltdown territory. If you're not familiar with the specifics, autism usually comes with sensory processing issues, though the details vary from person to person. My greatest difficulties are, in order of severity, and my senses of smell and taste, closely followed by hearing, then touch. Specifically, I am strongly adverse to sudden loud noises such as thunder and discordant noises like lots of people chattering all at once, or the sound of a bunch of car tires driving over asphalt all at once. Among others, meltdowns happen when we're so overwhelmed by what's happening around us that we just kind of mentally check out of reality for a bit. A lot of people who don't realize that the person having the meltdown is on the spectrum mistake it for an ordinary temper tantrum. A lot of people who don't realize that the person having the meltdown is on the spectrum mistake it for an ordinary temper tantrum. For the record, it isn't. It can be messy, yes, but is manageable if you know the autistic person well enough to be familiar with what works to calm them down. Anyway, all of this is said calmly, respectfully, kindly, and gently. I'm not angry, neither am I rude or dismissive. To see little sister's reaction though, you would have thought I was all of those things. I start to walk towards the rear stair and little sister follows me. But it helped my friends, so it'll help you too. She insists. My temper starts to flare a bit, but I manage to keep it in check. I turn to face her again and explain. I am not your friends. The autistic community has a saying. If you've met one autistic person, you have met one autistic person. Meaning, the condition manifests itself differently in every individual who has it. I'm happy that convention has helped your friends cope with their symptoms, but just because I'm also on the spectrum doesn't mean what worked for them will work for me. Now, little sister isn't exactly creative with her rebuttals. She tends to repeat the same things over and over again and expects you to change your mind on that basis alone. Classic, argument, and ad nauseum fallacy. She repeats her argument and this time I'm unable to keep my temper leashed. I reply rather snappishly. I've said no twice already. You should have backed off after the first no and respected my boundaries. For the last time, I am not interested. I know my own limits and going to a convention would put me well past them. Drop it. Mom comes to see what all the commotions about and little sister starts whining to her about me not following her advice. Mom tells her the same thing I did. She's not interested. Respect her boundaries and leave it be. The next thing little sister says is equally infuriating and baffling. But mom, she's invalidating my friend's life experiences. I whirl back around, head back down the stairs. I was halfway up them, heading back to my room. But before I can say anything, mom tells me to go up to my room. She'll handle it. I never got to give little sister a talking to about what invalidating someone's lived experiences actually looks like. But for the sake of actually getting that rant off my chest, here is what I would have said. No, I'm not. I never said anything like "No, it didn't help your friends. That's not how autism works." Yeah, right. I doubt they're really autistic. That would have been me invalidating their experiences. You, on the other hand, are invalidating mine. Left, right, up, down, and all directions in between by trying to insist I don't know my own limits, all of which I have learned about through my lived experiences, dealing with similar situations in the past. Then I would have flipped her off and returned to my hermitage in my room. Little sister and I had another argument relating to my autism later, which is when she basically confirmed her staggering levels of ignorance about it to me. I don't recall what we were fighting about leading up to this moment, other than me trying to drill it into her head, that people who do not have a spectrum condition will never be able to fully comprehend what it's like to have one, even if they're making an honest, genuine, concerted effort to do so. They may be able to imagine it pretty accurately, but they will never know it in truth. She said something along the lines of "Besides, my boyfriend's basically Asperger's himself, so I know what it's like." My BS senses are tingling at this point, so I ask. Has he actually been diagnosed with Asperger's? Well, no, but he has the same traits. Cue a skeptical arched eyebrow from me. Like? He's really smart. Side note, high intelligence is not part of the diagnostic criteria for any autistic spectrum disorder. It's just a prevalent trait among the autistic community, especially with regards to those like myself, with FHA Asperger's. To my knowledge, at any rate, please feel free to correct me if I'm mistaken, but cite your source, please. Again, equal parts infuriating and face-palm inducing for me. There's a heck of a lot more to Asperger's than high intelligence. And the fact you think your boyfriend being clever is equivalent to him having Asperger's only shell is just how ignorant you actually are about it. Stop trivializing my neurology and admit that you cannot and will never fully comprehend what it's like to be autistic. Then I disengaged and went back to my room. I know Little Sister was trying to be helpful in the first example, but the problem is that never quite grasped the whole "impact is more important than intent" principle. She's tried to defend herself from being called out with "but I had good intentions" on multiple occasions and never seems to understand why that's never earned her forgiveness. Little Sister never did manage to mend fences with me. In fact, my next story, the second to last, is the tale of how Little Sister managed to upset me so much that I decided I wanted nothing more to do with her. And yes, said event did involve her typical sense of entitlement, along with a bit of emotional abuse to serve as the worst cherry on top of existence. Well, second to worst, I'm saving the actual worst for the finale. Entitled mom tries to make me stand on a bus in crutches. I'm on mobile, so sorry for any format issues. This one is also pretty dialogue heavy. When I was a freshman in high school, I dislocated my kneecap. Normally, this type of injury heals up really fast, but for some reason, in all the three times I've done it, it's taken me months to heal. About three weeks after I injured my knee, I was taking the public bus to school. I sat in the very front reserved for disabled and elderly people. Now at the time, I had just taken off my leg immobilizer and was waiting on a knee brace to be ordered, so I had no brace on my knee and couldn't bend it at all. The only way you could tell I was injured was the fact that one knee was twice the size of my other, and I had crutches next to me. Enter the entitled parent. We'll call her EM. Entitled mom stormed onto the bus, dragging her poor kid behind her. A four to five year old boy, who was fairly quiet during the incident. After she had paid her fare, she sped down the aisle and kicked my extended leg. Remember, I can't bend it. I cried out in pain and clutched my knee, and she scoffed. No apology or anything. Just scoffed. Okay, fine. I just tell her not to worry about it, and she walks away further down the bus looking for a seat. She juts her head around like a chicken searching for a seat on this already full bus and lets out a long, exasperated huff before turning to look at me and the single empty seat beside me. Entitled mom approaches and asks, "Can my son use the seat beside you?" I nod my head and jester him to sit down. After he sat down, the entitlement began. So, when are you going to get up? I asked if my son could use that seat. Obviously, I need to sit next to him. He's too young to be alone. I'm sorry, but I can't really move. There's no more open seats, and I'm not really in the condition to stand. I point towards my crutches. But there's a standing bar right next to you you can use. Don't lie. I hit your leg earlier, and you said not to worry about it. Can't you just stand instead? I'm not stupid. I know those crutches are only upfront for emergencies. They're not yours. You're just sitting up here, sticking your legs out into the aisle to act injured. Go stand like everyone else your age. I swear. You teens are so entitled. Look, you can ask the bus driver whether or not I came on this bus with crutches. My leg is out in the aisle because I can't bend it. I've spent the last few weeks in a leg immobilizer. Can you just leave me alone? Okay, fine. But what happened to your leg anyway? It doesn't look injured at all. I dislocated my knee. Entitled mom's face goes red, and she grabs my injured leg and tries to forcefully bend it. She realizes she can't because the joints are locked and pulls the stop wire. I scream out in pain, and the bus driver stops and walks over to where I'm sitting. He says he's heard everything, but minded his own business because he didn't think she would get physical. When the bus driver admonishes entitled mom's behavior, she turns into a sputtering mess. I wasn't part of this particular conversation because I was too busy ugly crying. What the heck did you think you were doing when you assaulted a crippled child? I thought she was lying. I've seen people dislocate their knee before. Her story didn't add up. It doesn't take that long to heal. So instead of calling her out, you decided to try to force her leg to bend. It's not up to you to decide if she's lying or not. Get the heck off my bus. But I have to take my son to daycare. You can't just kick us off. We have places to pee. Okay, if you don't get off my bus right now, the only place you'll be going is in a jail cell. The entitled mom's eyes went wide, and she grabbed her child, dragging him off with her out the back exit. The bus driver apologizes for not stepping in sooner and tries to calm me down. Through my tears, I told him not to worry, and just start the bus again. The pain eventually subsided, but I spent the rest of the day icing my knee in the nurse's office. I never got an apology or a name, but I wish I could go back and press charges. People are seriously crazy sometimes. Edit for clarity. This happened seven years ago, so I doubt the bus company has any video surveillance still around. I never got her name either. Since then, I've dislocated my kneecap twice, every two years since the first time. Currently, I'm doing fine, and being very careful trying to build muscle so it doesn't happen again. I'll post an update to find up this locating once again in 2020. Also, she couldn't bend my knee. She kept trying to force it, but a locked joint is a locked joint. It wasn't budging, and I was too busy crying and pain to fight her off, or beat her with my crutches. Next, we've got entitled parents stops me from mowing my lawn. Hi, Mr. Reddit. I recently joined Reddit after watching your videos, so I'll keep it clean. A little bit of background. I'm a weird kid and kind of anti-social, and I hadn't made many friends until I made it to middle school. I also mow mine, my grandma's, and my dad's lawn. I live half half my parents. They divorced, and in doing so, I make a good bit of money. And it's how I saved for a lot of stuff I own, like my phone, Pokemon cards, etc. So this starts on a hot summer weekend when I was mowing my grandma's lawn. It was really hot, as summers in Colorado can get pretty hot. And as I was mowing my grandma's lawn, I see a kid. Maybe 9 or 10 walk up and try to shout something over the lawn mower. I stop, and the conversation is as follows. The kid was actually pretty nice, but the mother is a whole 'nother story. Can you please stop? My mom said to tell you stop, she's watching TV, and I want to play outside, but it's too loud. He actually said this, but I don't know why. Well, I'm sorry. I have a little brother, and I've been raised always to be polite to kids. I can't stop, I have to mow where the grass will get too tall. Okay. Well, if you want, since your mom is watching TV, I can hang out with you for a bit. It was a new neighbor having moved in less than a week ago, and I wanted to be nice, as one of the neighbors was completely messed up. And if anybody wants, I can post stories about this horrific neighbor. Sure, mom can be mean while she watches TV. Cool. Here, do you want to grab popsicles and put them in the freezer, and then when I'm done, we can pull them out and draw with chalk? I love popsicles. How will I know that you're done? Just listen for the mower to stop, then come on over. I patted him on the back and let him go home. I realized afterward, that maybe it was a bit much, but I wanted him and his mom to see, that not all the neighbors were a bunch of jerks like bad neighbor. After maybe 10 or 20 minutes, I lose track of Thai mowing because I listen to music through Bluetooth headphones. I see a whale of a lady with a typical Karen outfit and haircut walk up to me in pajamas. I hate to think what the lady would have been like in the actual clothes. I don't remember this part very well, as it was mostly screaming. What are you doing, you idiot? What? I'm mowing my grandma's lawn. What? No, I had my son. She said this was such a bad tone, it made me feel bad for the kid. Come over and tell you to stop. Me, being the insanely polite person I am. Sorry, I told him, he and you would have to wait, I need to get this done. No, she proceeded to screech at me. If I tell you to stop, you will stop. I need to watch my show. If you don't stop, I'm calling the police. Stop now, or I'll. I cut her off. I'm sorry, I told nice kid that when I was done, we could have popsicles. Now, would you like to... No, I won't let you give my kid your poisoned popsicles. You idiotic grunt. There was some not needed language there. I'm sorry you think that, but I have to mow. If I didn't mow too many times in a row, I wouldn't be able to do it, and would thus end my ability to save money like a responsible human. I know you and your son are new to the neighborhood and want to be kind. And title mom cuts me off this time. Now listen here, you dumb grunt. I will not have you interrupting my show, and I'm telling you now. Stop mowing, or I'm calling the police. I'm usually calm in these situations, but this whale had refused the most profound kindness I had ever tried to give, and I lost my temper pretty easily at this point. Now listen here, insert a dozen different bad words and random mean stuff here. I am sick of your stupidity, and I have nearly known you for ten minutes. Leave now, go ahead, call the police, we have cameras. You little crap, now listen here. I cut her off. No, you listen here. If you don't leave, I will call the police, and have you disowned by the neighbors if you don't leave and stop being so rude to me, especially after I offered you kindness. I actually had the power to have her disowned as there is a neighborhood committee for neighborly disputes after what crap neighbor did. My grandma is on this committee, and having done a few odd jobs for the neighbors means they trusted me. So the wild Karen backed off for now. In the end, she never called the police, as the other neighbors had been just, or even kinder than I had been and didn't risk being eternally shunned by her neighbors. And in the end, I have popsicles with the kid, and he's into Pokemon and such, so we get along and occasionally I babysit him for his dad when the mom's away and he needs to do something. Hope you enjoyed Mr. Reddit. I really enjoy your videos, and if this does end up on one, subscribe to Mr. Reddit. Oh, nice. Thanks, derpy derp. Next, we've got entitled mother tries to steal my seat. I always mention I live in a small town because those who haven't read my stuff need to grasp that it's a small town, and you do things in a small town that you wouldn't necessarily do in a larger one. You also tend to run into a lot of entitled parents, especially if you have anything to do with a school system or young people. I have one of those personalized deluxe folding camp chairs with a drink holder, pop-up table, and umbrella. It's very nice and pretty much lives in my trunk. Normally, you would watch a possession like that very carefully in a public place. In a small town, it's not generally a big issue. You set it up and wander off to talk with people, etc. Besides, it has my name on it, so that helps. Reserved seating whenever I set it up. I love baseball. It's probably my favorite spectator sport. My nephew was on his high school team, and it was a great team. I never missed a home game. On this day, I set up my chair without the umbrella. Then I wandered over to the concession area to get some nachos and a drink. I wandered back, and someone is sitting in my chair. I was understandably puzzled. It's my chair. It has my name on it. More importantly, the person sitting in it knows that it is not their chair. This has never happened before. I placed my drink on the bleachers and eat a couple of nachos while pondering the situation. After the third or fourth chip, I decided to say something. Excuse me. This is my chair. No one was sitting in it. First come, first served. Not how that works. I own the chair. Just sit on the bleachers. No, I'm going to sit on my chair. You are going to move. No, I'm not. I got here first, and I have a child playing baseball today. I deserve this spot. Go away. Lady, this is not the majors. Everyone here has a kid playing. I know the parents of every kid on our team. You are not one of them. It doesn't matter anyway, because it's my chair. I'm the mother of... Kid on a posing team. They sit on the other side. Fine. She stands up and proceeds to try and take my chair with her. I snatch it out of her hands. Give me that chair. No, it's mine. I'll call the police. No need. They are already here. I point out several people. That guy and that guy and that guy over there. Their kids were on the team. You jerk. You just figured that out? Pretty slow on the uptake there, princess. She wandered off and I sat down in my chair to enjoy my nachos. A few minutes later, she's back with the only cop actually in uniform. That is my seat. I was sitting there first. Hey, Acer. What's up? Crazy people doing crazy things. You? This woman is claiming she was here first, and you took her seat. Not possible. It is possible. I was here first, and then you came and demanded I move, and then stole my seat. I own the chair. It doesn't matter. I was here first. I was actually here first. Then I went to get snacks. No. I was here first, and I need that spot to watch my son play ball. I had to be here first because I own the chair. It didn't arrive before I did. I'd put it here. Your son plays for the other team, and they sit on the other side. If you hadn't been in the wrong place, you couldn't have tried to steal my chair. Now go away. At this point, there are several out of uniform cops just milling around, watching, and trying not to crack up. This woman is getting more and more upset, and I'm just not. They know me and can see I'm playing with her. Ma'am, you need to leave this woman and her chair alone. Please go to the other side and sit on the bleachers. But the chair is nicer, and I was here first. Ma'am, she brought the chair and put it here. She does this every game. She owns it, and that makes it hers. You need to leave now. You don't want to spoil the game for your son. I'm a single mother. I'm not surprised. How dare you be so rude. Your parents should have taught you some respect. My parents taught me not to steal. They also taught me not to allow some idiot to try and push me around. If you don't leave, I'm going to press charges for your attempted theft that you admitted to, and then report you to your school and have you banned from all future away games. Go to the bleachers on the other side, and leave me alone. Now. She looked from me to the cop who nodded, and moved back towards the bleachers on the other side. There was a kid in the opposing dugout who was looking decidedly embarrassed. The woman glared at me all through the game. It was a great game. And our final story of the day. Steal my phone case, and I'll spoil your birthday. Obligatory mobile warning. I'm English, but spelling is not my strong point. Feel free to roast me if I get stuff wrong. I'm Mr. Reddit. My partner and I love your channel, and have watched all of your videos. I was watching one of them, and my partner told me a story that I just had to post for you. This one is from my partner's perspective, as we had not met at the time. The cast. Me. The handsome devil of my partner. And entitled woman. The Karen of all Karens. Along with Karen's poor husband. I ordered a phone case from a major seller which sells everything that can be sold ever. I specifically got the case for my phone, which was not able to fit any other kind of phone. Samsung Galaxy S7. Brand new to me at the time. I was only 16, so many years ago. The case was to be delivered whilst I was at work, and all my family were out. The delivery company in the UK is terrible at times for delivering parcels to neighbors. This was what happened to me. It was taken to my neighbor's neighbor, entitled woman. I was notified of this by a slip of paper through my door. I went to collect the case from them, and this ensued. Hi. I've had a parcel delivered here. I hadn't shown her the delivery note. No. There's been nothing delivered here. I showed her the note. Well, this says that you have had something delivered for me here. Well, we voted one as well. She didn't know what I was even talking about, and it could have been something completely different. What phone is it for? Well, um, mine. She had an iPhone, so clearly wrong. Well, it's actually for a Galaxy S7, and it's got an insert fantasy show about space on the back. Well, we voted it. The door was slammed in my face, and I didn't give my phone case back. The revenge. The entitled mom had a delightful blue car that poor husband just cleaned before the trip on holiday for their family. Because of the deep cleaning, it had to leave the car windows open to allow the car seats to dry. I luckily had, at the time, a wonderful Staffordshire Terrier crossed with a Labrador called Buzz. He was one of the goodest of boys, and has now sadly passed. Who fortunately had regular sessions in the garden, and did most of his business there. It was my job that day to clean up his mess, and I had a wonderful idea springing to my head. I took the mess, and covered the inside of the car with it. Scrubbing it into the seats, on the steering wheel, and puts them in the air vents for good measure. The following morning, I was looking out of my bedroom window, waiting until the family came and got into the car. I noticed, as soon as they got in the car, they knew something was wrong, but seemed to ignore it as poor husband turned on the ignition and put the AC on. I forgot to mention that entitled woman was wearing white shorts. The family then proceeded to get out of the car screaming and shouting that there was dog mess all over their car and clothes. I emailed the retailer, explaining the situation, and they sent out a new phone case and gave me a full refund, and it since changed how deliveries in that area are handled. My partner moved away and met me a few years later. Karen gets told off, "The Perry Hotta debacle." This is a bit longer than I expected it to be, so I'm sorry for that. Feel free to cut it down if you need to. I worked for seven years in a call center for one of the premier online retailers in the world. I won't say the company's name, but I will tell you that we sold everything from A to Z. Smile. This particular company was famous for its superior customer service. Because it took such pride in its reputation, the company bent over backwards to satisfy its customers and the decision of whether to issue refunds, change prices, or give out promotional funds was generally left to our discretion. We got lots of customers who would call and scream at us because it was an almost surefire way to get something for free. Basically, our job was to eat your crap with a smile, thank you for it, and then invite you to come back and feed us more sometime in the future. One of the most popular scams involved shipping methods. Our company would provide free shipping if you ordered a certain dollar amount of merchandise, but there was a string attached. You had to select that method of shipping at checkout. It said free shipping in big letters. Also, the free shipping took a lot longer to arrive than the options that you had to pay for. What many people would do is select one or two-day shipping, then wait until their order shipped. They would then call in screaming that, "I selected the free option. Your company changed it!" or something similar. Since, of course, it was too late to change the shipping by then, we would issue a refund and voila. Free expedited shipping for Karen. And maybe even a free promotional code for $5 or $10. Now, if a customer called and acted human about it and nicely asked for a break, I would usually do it as long as they didn't have a long history of accidentally selecting the wrong shipping. However, if they abused me, I held my ground. More often than not, that would cause Karen to tell us what kind of haircut she had. "Let me speak to a manager!" Inevitably, the lead who took over the call would betray us and give the jerk customer their refund. It was downright disheartening. Until one glorious day. Since the company's primary claim to fame was books, there were certain product releases that we really had to gear up for. One particular series, we'll call it the "Perry Hotta" series, was always a source of chaos. On those fateful days, the company would have extra people working. They provided incentives to employees. We got extra breaks. They provided snacks, and we even got commemorative t-shirts to mark the occasion. Every time a new book in this series was released, it made for an incredibly busy day. And calls would come in at a frenetic pace, back to back, with no lag time in between. On release day, the shipping issue really came into play. This is because the company ran a special for "Perry Hotta". If you selected one day shipping, not free, actually quite expensive, then you would receive the new book on the actual release day. If you selected any other shipping method, then you had to wait the normal amount of time. If you selected the one day shipping, and the book was not there on the release date, then the book was Karen's favorite word. Free. I'm sure you can imagine what most of the calls we received were about. All day long, we got calls from Karen types demanding refunds because the book was not there. In almost every case, they had selected the free shipping option, and so were not due refunds. This was one of the few times that the company did not leave the decision up to us. If they did not select the free shipping, there were no refunds, no exceptions. This day was glorious, because of what was forever to be known as the "what do I do?" call. I get yet another call from someone who had not received the "Perry Hotta" book, and of course she is mad. Of course she demands a refund. Of course she doesn't deserve one, because of course she selected the free shipping. Of course Karen then decides to tell me all about her haircut. I actually breathed the sigh of relief when she demanded to speak to the manager, and I waved one of my favorites over to take the call. I liked Berry, because he had a reputation for having his reps back in situations like this. Because we were so busy, he just dialed into the call from his desk instead of coming over and taking my headset. I'm so glad he did too, because I got to hear the following exchange. Berry. Thank you for calling the company, this is Berry speaking. Yes, I ordered the "Perry Hotta" book, the new one. Yes ma'am. Don't interrupt me. I ordered the book, and it's not here. Why is it not here? Well, I'm speaking. Let me finish. If you work at a call center, you've been through this more times than you can count. Abusive customers will call, ask you questions, scream at you for interrupting when you try to answer, then scream at you for being too stupid to answer a simple question. What follows is a five-minute rant where Karen goes on and on about how the book is not there. They are so disappointed. The book is supposed to be free. Berry explains multiple times that she chose the free shipping option in which the promotion did not apply. That's expensive. She is massively offended. You'd have thought that Berry had told her she was supposed to go pantsless into public or fart in a church. So unthinkable was the concept of "paying for shipping." She is so demanding and so unreasonable that I can see Berry losing his patience a little more every time he has to repeat himself. You can tell that Karen is one of those customers who is used to calling and screaming until she gets her way, and it is just not registering with her why it is not working this time. Berry keeps explaining to Karen that we can't get the book to her today because that's not how shipping works. That's short of getting in his car and physically driving the book to her home. She is not getting that book today, or even tomorrow. Karen is silent for a moment, and then she drops this little gym. My 11-year-old son is on the floor crying and screaming because all of his friends have the new Perry Holter book, and he doesn't. What do you suggest I tell him? Berry just loses his grab, he yells into the phone. Berry marking Karen's tone. I suggest that you stop harassing innocent customer service representatives and hang up this phone. Then I suggest that you grab your brat and bust his butt. Then I suggest that you tell him that he's never getting this book because any kid who acts like that doesn't deserve anything. He then threw his phone receiver down on his desk and walked off the call floor. The handset bounced off of the wooden service, ricocheted off the cubicle walls, and laid there helplessly. The girl at the neighboring desk swore she could hear Karen screeching through it from her desk. Now here's where most people would say, and then everybody clapped. Then Berry would be carried out on everybody's shoulders, given a raise, a $100 a free merchandise, and the rest of the day off, with pay. Alas, it was not meant to be. The people around him went deadly silent for a beat, then continued with their calls. Most of the people didn't even register that an epic explosion had happened until the tale was told later by those of us who heard it. Unfortunately, Berry was no longer an employee of the company by the end of the day, but he did go down in call center history for serving Karen a bite of her own crab, something that I'm sure most customer service reps will agree. We all dream of doing. Next up we've got, you can't stop stupid. Hello again everyone, it's me, Dee Fatman, with another set of events, but of the entitled variety. The warning from my previous story applies here, and I will link it down at the bottom for those who want to read it, so thank you for taking the time to read this one, and I hope you enjoy. So let me start with a little background details. I used to work security as one of that roaming kind of guards, mostly those that get placed at different locations depending on where we are needed. I've worked a lot of locations and have plenty of entitled stories of parents who think they know better than the security guards at the location. This is one of those stories. The location in this story was after we had a breach in a flood wall, and the water had just gotten down far enough that the city could send workers to check the location and find the reason for the failure in said flood wall. Now, I'm one of the guards that was stationed down there, mostly so that we can keep people away from it and out of the water. This is river water after all, and on top of that, nearby construction site going on had two porta-potties before the flooding. So when the water came rushing in, the well-used porta-potties tipped over and all the, um, let's put it nice. Human waste got mixed in with the water, something you really don't want to be walking in without large rubber boots on, and maybe a hazman suit, if you're lucky. Why do I bring this up? Well, because of the woman I had to deal with because of the flooding, I will introduce the cast as they come up, much as I did in my other story. At this time, I was mainly working the night shift till about seven-ish in the morning, which was fine with me because I'm a night owl normally, and I prefer these shifts compared to morning or afternoon shifts. It was close to about midnight when this woman decided to walk down the alleyway by the flood wall. I don't think much about it, as I've had people show up at this point just to see how bad the failed spot on the flood wall was, and some of the nearby damage that the flooding caused. That's when the flasher on her kid's shirt caught my eye. It was pretty hard not to catch my eye, as it was one of those pin-on blinker safety lights. Like the same ones, I've seen glued to bicycle helmets, just pinned onto the kid's shirt. At first, I thought it was okay, so at least this mother knows how to make sure the kid is visible in the dark. I went back to watching the wall more as I had my phone play some classical music, mostly because I was in the mood for it after listening to an audiobook. Trust me, these shifts can get boring rather fast. Well, I look around and back to see the kid just having a good old time, just jumping around and splashing on the smaller pools of water. Because we all know, kids will be kids. At this point, I thought just in case, I should let the kid and parent know that splashing these puddles probably isn't a good idea, mostly for the human waste that was in the water. So I fought to get out of my small car, which is something I normally fight with because I'm a big fat guy who drives a small car. Trust me, I'm already aware of the irony on that one. So as I get out, I stop my music and walk over to the lady. Miss, I started with yelling, mostly to get the woman's notice, which she began to let go of her child's hand and turned to look at me with that "How did you bother me?" Look, after already getting the large warning signs of an entitled parent, for the sake of the story, let's call her Mrs. Virago. If you want to know why I picked that one up, Google it. Trust me, it's fitting. What do you want? Ma'am, you may not want to let your child play in that water. She cuts me off getting into my face. Well, sort of. Now, for those needing a picture on how this scene looks like, I've been told that if it wasn't for the hair on my head and face, that I could be a dead ringer for Kingpin from the Marvel Universe, the white fat guy one. Now picture that as a six foot four guy in a security guard, and the woman was close to about five foot eight, five foot tenish, staring up and giving that dreaded "How dare you?" Poked to my chest. Something I will tell you annoys me to no end. But I try my best not to lose my cool with this woman. Because I've seen enough mama bears, and you learn to try and keep your cool around them. Now, as I was saying, the lady cut me off jabbing her finger into me, saying, "Do not tell me what my kid can and cannot do. You wouldn't like me to tell you how to handle your kids." Bear in mind, I don't have kids. But I've babysat enough, so I understand. Sort of. Ma'am, I just wanted to let you know she ended up cutting me off again. Now, let me let you know that I don't care if you are taller than me. If you don't just walk away and leave me and my son alone, I will make sure you regret it. All I could think was, are you serious lady? Ma'am, I thought I would try to raise my voice to get her to listen for once. I know, I'm an idiot. Do not raise your voice at me. She this time pointed directly at my face. Now, walk your fat butt back to wherever you waddled from and leave us alone. That got me to look at her in disbelief. She thought that going after my size would get me to walk away and leave her alone. Sadly for her, I am proud of how big I am. Because personally, I'm of the belief that if you can't be proud of who you are, then you're doing it wrong. Ma'am, look. I said, pointing to the tipped over porta-pottys that weren't too far away behind and to the right of her. She turned because I pointed past her head in a different direction. And to be honest with you, I'm surprised she even looked instead of saying I was trying to distract her. That was floating in the river water that your son was jumping in. Of course, that was not counting the dead fish that had been ran over a few times by the city crew, but one disgusting thing at a time. As soon as she heard that, she pulls her son over out of the puddle and shoves me, which caused me to slip and fall back onto the mud and sediment. So it took me a few moments to get back onto my feet. What is wrong with you, lady? At that point, I was done playing nice. After getting up, I heard Ms. Virago was calling the cops and said that I was assaulting her and her son. This son, my Jew, was looking confused as he was trying to reach the puddles for him to jump back into. She tells the operator to send someone quick and hangs up. All while she was giving me that "I got you now!" Smirk as I fought to get up. Which was hard because a fat guy trying to get up in mud was like trying to stay standing on a floor covered in cold grease. Some things are time consuming. After I was able to get up, I stepped back away so I wasn't in the mud. At this, I think Mrs. Virago thought I was going to leave before the cops showed up and stepped after me. Sadly for her, she stepped just right and slipped in the mud too. I couldn't help myself and I laughed at the bit of karma. And her son joined in laughing before going back into jumping in the puddle before his mother told him to get over to her. And that "mother is angry" tone that anyone would know. So I moved over to the un-muddy part of the street and Ms. Virago follows with her son about this time the cop pulls up. The reason it took such a short time was because the police station was only a few streets away, so it was pretty expected. As soon as the cop steps out of his car, Ms. Virago runs up to him with her son. Officer, rest that man for assault. That jerk shoved me into the mud when all I was trying to do was walk down the street with my son. Of course, with her covered in mud. The cop looked like he believed her and moved where she was behind her. Sir, do you want to explain what happened here? He looked at me and noticed I also have a badge on me. Now my work just has a generic security badge. Nothing really official. Just something that says I'm a security guard. Slowly with my hands where the officer can see me, I slowly moved up towards my car. I can do one better. I can show you. This got Ms. Virago to go pay a while before noticing something. He doesn't have a camera on him. How is he going to show you what happened? She tried to be smug as indeed I didn't have a camera on me. But, my car has a dash camera on it. One that I bought just in case. The case being more to catch people messing with my car. I had kids egg it and I wanted to catch the little jerks. Sadly, no luck so far on that front. But I figured to have it with me just in case. Because having video proof beats paperwork any day. Now, remember, before I fully got out, I turned off my music on my phone. I did this so my camera could catch what was said. I queued up the video and let the cop watch it. Mostly if he needs to rewind to hear something again. The speakers I had attached to it weren't the best. But I could pull the video off of it just in case. Well, Ms. Virago didn't like the turn of events and went to slap my dash cam from the cop's hands. The camera's fine by the way. That doesn't prove anything. It proves enough that you attacked him first. The officer said as he pulled out his cuffs and began to cuff the lady. And plus, I now have you for assaulting an officer. With that, he took her and put her in the back of his car. I cleared my throat and pointed to her kid. The officer called Mrs. Virago's husband to come and pick up their kid. I grabbed my spare uniform from my car and went to change. Then resumed my shift after calling it in. Now, you would think Ms. Virago was done after that. Sadly, she wasn't. The next day rolls around and I'm stationed back at the flood wall again. I pull up to see Ms. Virago standing there with another cop, not the same one from before. She then points at me. That's him, officer. That's the guy who assaulted me last night. Seriously? This woman again? I asked myself as I got out of my car to talk to the officer. Sir, is what she said true? Let me guess. She's accusing me of assaulting her by throwing her in the mud. Yes, is there any truth to it? No, and you can even ask the officer that dealt with this last night. I turned to look at her and yell. Are you serious, lady? If the first cop wasn't going to buy your story, what makes you think the second one is going to? The officer asked me for the time of the call and I ballparked it as I didn't have the footage on me at the time. I had dumped the video onto my computer, so I saved it to clear out the memory on my camera. I gave him the time and he used his radio to call his dispatch and got it confirmed. This resulted in her getting arrested again. Hopefully she doesn't get out after a day. So I go through my shift with nothing happening outside of that bit of stupidity and lucky for me, the following day was my day off. The following day rolls around and I'm at home relaxing when I get a call from my supervisor. Hey, fat man. Just to let you know, you just got a complaint about assaulting someone. Are you serious? The lady is trying a third time? A third time? So I explained to him what happened the previous two nights and then even told him who I talked to those nights so they can ask them about it. Then told him the two times so he can ask the cops about it. I even told him I could email him the video so he can watch it for himself, which I did end up doing. And to cover myself, I asked him to watch it while I was on the line after one viewing later. Don't worry about the complaint. I'll get it dismissed since you followed the protocol and clearly this lady is out of her mind. Tell me about it. I've told a few people this story and I thought I'd share it here. And since I enjoy Mr. Reddit's readings and I even laughed hard hearing the voice he gave Bob in my previous story, which Mr. Reddit, if you're reading this, thank you for reading my previous story. And I hope you enjoyed it and this one. I tried to be easier on you reading this and omitted the curse words as best I could. Oh, thanks, fat man. I appreciate that. Great story, too. I did security for three years and I dealt with so many people like this. The same goes for everyone reading this because it just goes to show you that you can't stop stupid, but you can be semi-entertained by it, as well as some of the other stories in this subreddit. I may share some of my other entitled parent stories down the line. With that said, thank you for reading. Hope you enjoyed. And our final story of the day, I did something this weekend that I'm proud of. Please note that this story can't be considered petty revenge because I wasn't the target of Malice here. And even though this man didn't direct his BS at me at the time, he really seemed entitled enough to meet the criteria. I just wanted to clarify this just in case. Time to begin. Right now, I'm feeling proud of myself for doing something wild. This last weekend, I and my wife decided to visit her family. They live in a much smaller city than we do, and we go now and again to break up the monotony. On Saturday, my wife and her sister wanted to go shopping at one of the larger malls in the area. Not wanting to do nothing alone, I tagged along. At some point, while listening to their girl talk, I decided to grab a bite, so I told my wife and headed to the food court. At this time, the lunch rush was still going on, so the place was fairly packed. I decided on Chinese food, a place I had been to before, so I trusted that the food was good. So I got in line to wait like anyone else. This particular restaurant was pretty simple. It had four cashier lanes, and grills behind it where you could watch the cooks make your order while you wait. But being a Chinese place, it took longer than the typical fast food place, so the lines were moving slowly. While waiting, my phone died. I simply forgot to charge it earlier, so I started people watching the crowd to avoid getting bored. Nothing out of the ordinary. I noticed Entitled Dad with two boys, and a little bit ahead of me in line next to me. The two boys, maybe around 11 and 9, must have been getting impatient because they would periodically start to screw around or bug Entitled Dad. Occasionally, pushing each other around or asking when they would have their food. Entitled Dad looked like he was growing more agitated by the minute. Every time, he had a turn to deal with these two boys, his face grew redder and redder. Understand, dear reader, that this was a busy, loud area, and they weren't being super loud, so they didn't really attract attention, yet. I did, however, have to turn away now and again to avoid being noticed, though. The trouble started when Entitled Dad finally reached his turn. The girl politely did the usual and asked him for his order, but instead of just ordering, Entitled Dad started to complain, mainly about how long he and the two boys were in line for. She did her best to be polite, but he just kept going for a few minutes. By this time, the gentleman behind the trio was also getting annoyed. He noticed me and gestured to Entitled Dad with the "you gotta be kidding me, look." So I just responded with a shrug. As far as I knew, he wasn't wrong. If Entitled Dad was in such a hurry, why not just get your food and be done with it? Eventually, the girl at the register was able to get the order. I was now second in place in line, and right next to the two kids by this point. I could hear the angry Entitled Dad go into a tirade about the performance of the restaurant, and insist that if it wasn't for his kids wanting it, they would have gone to a better place. About how said Japanese place was better, but because it was currently closed, they had to suffer through this. Entitled Dad even started to insult the poor girl behind the counter. The gentleman behind Entitled Dad and the two boys tried to tell Entitled Dad off, telling him they're just doing their best. But Entitled Dad shot back with a typical "I'm a pain customer, so I can do what I want." Excuse, and kept going. The girl was obviously growing upset, as Entitled Dad was bullying her, and I could see tears start to form in her eyes. Entitled Dad just wouldn't give her a break. The gentleman behind the trio was also looking like he was getting ready to throw punches. At this moment, I thought that I really wanted to do something, but I didn't want to get into a fight. Even if I had backup or ended up being the backup for someone else, that's when I noticed it. Entitled Dad was wearing cargo shorts, the kind that never seemed to fit right. I thought for a second and found an alternative idea. I found myself just reacting, and the whole thing took only a few seconds. I stepped forward in between Entitled Dad and the two kids, grabbed both side loops of the seat of his pants and yanked as hard as I could. Without stopping, I immediately ran for it. I had to push through a lady in the last line, but I made it. I heard a lot of screaming behind me, but not wanting to get pummeled by an angry Entitled Dad, I didn't even look back. I ran to the other side of the mall, where my wife was still shopping with her sister. I knew my wife enough to predict what stores they would be in. I felt safe enough in a girl's clothing store next to my wife, so after I caught my breath, I just started laughing. My wife asked, "What the heck?" and I just told her I would tell her later. I didn't want to spoil their shopping, so I spent the rest of the time keeping an eye out for an angry Entitled Dad. I did spot them at one point, now with a blonde lady and a little girl until, but that was it. I was lucky enough to avoid them. When we decided to go eat, the lunch rush was pretty much over, and I just had to know. I went back to the Chinese place, and luckily the young girl was still there, so I purposely waited behind an extra person for a chance to talk. When I got the chance, I asked her what happened to Entitled Dad. She told me that someone yanked his pants down mid tirade. The guy who did the deed took off, but Entitled Dad couldn't catch him because the gentleman behind Entitled Dad took the opportunity to push Entitled Dad flat on his butt. The gentleman just insisted that he was trying to catch the culprit and missed. Then Entitled Dad, being the official center of attention, just grumbled for the rest of the time. It got his food, paid, and set down on the opposite side of the food court somewhere. I wanted to laugh, but just in case, I never told her it was me who did the pancing, even though I really wanted to, so I just took my order and joined my wife and her sister for lunch. I told my wife later, and we had a laugh. She scolded me for pulling such a stunt, but was proud of me for finding such a funny method of helping the cashier. Right now, I'm still beaming about it, and wanted to share it on Reddit. Idiot Entitled Mom doesn't want her daughter to catch my autism. Hey, Mr. Reddit. Hope you enjoy my r/entitled parent story. So you all remember how in my first ever post, I said that since all the people in my life were decent folks, that I'd never have to deal with an entitled parent or person? Yeah, I may have jinxed myself since this is my third encounter with one thus far. Just happened earlier this morning, and I'm still a bit amused by this woman's stupidity. As usual, I will be paraphrasing words used to make the post PG-rated. Back story. I was diagnosed with Asperger's syndrome, high-functioning autism when I was three. I have struggled with social skills and such all my life, and I am a lot more comfortable with people either much younger or much older than myself than with people my own age. Hence why kids seem drawn to me, I guess. Cast. Since I am a Disney freak, I will be naming the characters after Disney characters. We've got me. Nicky ears. We've got Mother Gothel, the entitled idiot mother. Rapunzel. Gothel's sweet daughter. Probably about five or six. Mrs. Potts. Kindly older woman in the waiting room. Mom. My awesome mother. And Dr. Dawson. Nice doctor who works at the office my family goes to. Unlike the great mouse detective character, this Dr. Dawson is a woman. I couldn't think of any female Disney doctors off the top of my head. Story. My mom had an appointment with Dr. Dawson this morning, so I opted to go with her since she would be doing small errands afterwards. My mom has bone-on-bone arthritis in both knees and has a hard time moving around, and since I am the only one of my siblings who still lives at home, I often escort her places. Mom was called into the examination room almost immediately after we checked in, and I was in the mostly empty waiting room. The only other person besides myself was Mrs. Potts, who was quietly reading one of the magazines the waiting room offered. I had brought a backpack full of crud to entertain myself, so I dug out my drawing pad and colored pencils and started doing some drawings. Enter Mother Gauthil, who had Rapunzel by the hand, but was barely paying attention to her as she checked in. Once she was set, Gauthil then practically dragged Rapunzel over to the area where I was seated and started messing around on her phone. Rapunzel noticed the drawing I was working on. A princess drawing appropriately and came over to me. Rapunzel, "Wow! That's a cool drawing!" I look up, "Oh, thank you. I love the draw. Do you like to draw?" "Yeah!" Gauthil, finally looking up from her phone, "Bipunzel, get over here and stop gawking at that lady's godawful artwork!" "Okay, Mommy," goes next to her mother. Now, I know I'm no free to callow, but I didn't think my drawing was that bad. Surprise, surprise. As soon as Gauthil went back to her phone, Rapunzel goes back to me. "How come you have Ariel wearing Cinderella's dress?" Sometimes I like to draw how I think the different princesses would look wearing each other's dresses. "Oh, that's cool!" Gauthil snorts, not even looking up from her phone this time. "Billy's, that's a stupid idea!" Note, she said a word instead of stupid that starts with an R that I refuse to repeat. "I'm sorry you feel that way, ma'am. I personally think it's fun, and I'd appreciate if you didn't use that word." "Why, are you a stupid person?" She uses it again. "No, but I do have autism." She immediately glares at me. "You have what? Are you insane? Are you trying to infect my daughter?" "Excuse me?" "Rapunzel, honey. Come here with mommy. I don't want you catching that lady's autism." "I'm looking at Gauthil like she's insane." "Um, you do?" "No, autism isn't contagious, right ma'am? You're either born with it or not." "Don't give me that crap. I know all about autism." "You probably got it from some stupid vaccine, or hooking up with your brother or something." I had heard the theory of autism in vaccinations before, and not the other one. "I don't want my daughter to get infected." Mrs. Potts has been quietly listening in. "The young lady is right, ma'am. Autism is a neurological disorder. You can't catch it at all." "Oh, shut up, you old bat. You don't know what the heck you're talking about." Turns back to me. "Why don't you just do us all a favor and drop dead and take your stupid autism with you?" At this point, I'm trying hard not to cry, and to keep myself from slapping this woman silly. Luckily, my mom and Dr. Dawson came out into the waiting room right then. My mom. "Oh, P, what's wrong?" "This stupid girl is trying to give my daughter her autism." One, that stupid girl is my daughter, and I'll thank you not to talk that way about her. And two, she can't give your daughter her autism, because autism is not a contagious disease. Dr. Dawson, ma'am, I can confirm that what she says is correct. Autism is not contagious, nor is it caused by vaccinations. "Shut up. You're all trying to make my precious baby sick. All of you are out to get her." Ma'am, if you don't stop this behavior right now, I'm going to have to ask you to leave. "But I have an appointment." Then you'll have to reschedule. Gothle growls at me. "You stupid cow!" Autistic new buddies like you should be euthanized. Mom turns bright red. Get the heck away from my daughter right now, or I'm calling the police. Gothle realized that she's not going to win here, so she stormed out, dragging poor little Rapunzel with her. Dr. Dawson apologized to me and my mom, then went with Mom to finalize the bill for today's appointment. Her thoughts came over to me and tried to comfort me, complimenting me on the drawings I was working on. I thanked her, then gave her one of them, a picture of the actual Mrs. Potts from the movie, which she took delightedly. I don't know what online crud this woman was reading to warp her mind, or if she's just naturally that idiotic. But boy howdy, was that something. Next we've got, entitled Granny, tries to take first base. First time poster, and I'm on mobile. First, we've got me, brother, int. Entitled Granny, but she is an int since her skin looked like a tree, and my dad. Little bit of some backstory. My family, growing up, was a bit obsessed with baseball, and if it was baseball related, my dad didn't care what my brother and I did. Usually we threw and hit to each other on the road since we lived in a cul-de-sac. If you get it into the neighbor's yard at the end of the cul-de-sac, then you got a home run. Now, it being the great state of Minnesota, we had a lot of snow on the ground as usual. So my brother and I still wanted to play, so we set up our gear and a homemade wall in the street, so the balls wouldn't always go all the way down the road when we missed them. There were many times that we would hit the ball foul, and it would go in the ladies' yard. It would happen often since she had two massive pine trees as well. On this particular day, we had quite a few baseballs in her yard, and once we finished the bucket, we started to pick them back up. Well, when we started to get the foul balls from entitled Granny's yard, we were about halfway through the balls when we heard some yelling, "Hey, you kids! Get the heck off my lawn!" We looked at the house since that's the direction the yelling came. We see through a window on the top story, an old lady staring hard at us through the screen. My brother, who are you? And we aren't hurting anything or destroying your yard. No! You are destroying my grass with every step you take on my yard! Keep in mind it was winter, and snow was everywhere in her yard. Lady, we're just picking up our baseballs. We aren't playing in your yard, entitled Granny Huffs and Shuts Her Window, and we thought that was it, so we gathered up our balls and I started to pitch to my brother who was hitting now. About ten minutes later, the old, angry, and three-legged woman slowly stepped out of her house and starts to yell at us again for destroying her grass. My brother just looks at me and tells me to just keep throwing, so I do. All the while, entitled Granny is still hobbling with her cane, coming our way, yelling the whole time. She gets close. I mean very close. Entitled Granny tries to position herself in between us, and at one point, I threw a ball just three feet from her body. Thankfully, my brother didn't swing. What the heck do you kids think you're doing out here? You could have hit me or someone else! She didn't seem to care about herself much, seeing as she tried to walk in my pitching path. Lady, can you please move and leave us alone? We have been playing here for months now, and no one has had any problem with our playing. You kids are destroying my yard, and my beautiful pine trees with your balls. And you are obstructing traffic! We always would move our things when the rare car came into the cul-de-sac in under 30 seconds. Traffic was not an issue, but the lady would not budge. She would just stand there, expecting us to apologize for playing baseball. My brother ran to get our dad while I was stuck with this hag. In the two minutes we were alone, she would just keep telling me about how we are destroying her yard when we stepped into the snow, and how the grass will not grow anymore when spring came around. Well, my brother finally came back and told me to pack everything up we are done for the day. And that our dad would talk to her after we ate, since he was busy cooking dinner. So when we started to pack up, she would just huff and puff like she was going to blow our gear into our garage for us. During dinner, my dad would talk about how we are just having fun, and she probably is cranky since her leg is hurt and she lives alone and such. After dinner, my dad went over. Now, he didn't let us come along, not that we wanted to, but told us that conversation went like this. Hello, my name is blah blah blah, and my kids were playing on the street and you told them to stop? Yes, your kids are destroying my grass and breaking the branches with their balls. Ma'am, the grass is frozen because it is under a ton of snow. Also, grass is made to be walked on, and they are playing outside and having fun, and most definitely not destroying anything. Our dad tells us that they basically repeated the same sentences a few times, and it ended with her slamming the door on him, and saying he is a bad parent for letting us destroy her yard. We did have a couple more run-ins with entitled Granny, but she never came out of her house to yell at us anymore. But she would occasionally yell from her window, but we would just keep playing. Not an amazing ending, sorry for that. However, now that the years went by, she has since passed, and a nice young couple lives there now. And our final story of the day, cheat on me, steal from your former roommates, have fun being pregnant alone without money, a bad credit score, and no roof over your head. This might be a longer post, so I hope you bear with me. Also, English is not my native language, so please excuse my typos or spelling errors. Also, this whole mess happened about three years ago, so most of the conversations are not 100% exact. Also, also, I don't really know if it's an entitled person, a choosing beggar, or a revenge story. So I was dating this girl for about a year. Everything went well, and we were happy. We were living in different towns, but it was only a 50-minute train ride, so it wasn't that bad, but still a little annoying. When a room in her shared flat became free, we talked a little about it and decided rather quickly that this was actually a good opportunity for us to move in together. So we planned a little more, and I packed my things and moved towns. The shared flat consisted of six people in total, but the main protagonists are my girlfriend and myself. Since I come from a rather big family that wasn't much of a problem for me, they knew me, I knew them, we got along perfectly. After I moved in, a girlfriend told me that the person that moved out was actually the person that signed the lease, and that we need to vote for a new one to sign it. After talking about that little road bump, we as a group came to the conclusion that two of us can't sign it because they were four months away from their finals and already looking for new tenants to take over their rooms. Two flat-outs said they don't want to sign it, which pretty much left girlfriend and me as the only ones to sign it. So we both decided we will sign the lease together, which was an idea that the landlord really liked. Fast forward a month, I got a job in an old people nursery home and worked mostly at night. Girlfriend just started a job at a gaming hall and worked mostly during the night too. As far as I knew, everything was going great, until the girlfriend knocked on my door. I just wanted to tell you that I found a new tenant who will take over my room next week. Since we were pretty much using only one of our rooms anyways, she thought that we could just move in together into one room. Oh great, so we are moving into one room together. I wanted to talk to you about that too. Glad you came in first with it. No, I am moving in with my boyfriend. Um, as far as I know, I am your boyfriend. I mean, I was your boyfriend last night. This morning, and if I am not completely mistaken, we were still together 20 minutes ago. Not really, but I thought I should at least tell you that I am moving out next week. After she said that, she turned around and left. I was still sitting at my table, still not really knowing what just happened, and with what I believe had to be the biggest question mark in the universe on my face. After five minutes, I stood up and went to her room. So, just that I understand you correctly, you were telling me that you will move out next week to move in with your boyfriend. Yes, that's what I said. Okay, you gotta help me here. As far as I know, I have been your boyfriend for the last 14 months, or did I misinterpret something there? No, you have been a boyfriend for that time, but I started seeing the other one five months ago, and now I think I should move in with him. At that moment, I just turned around, got my jacket, and went to a local bar. The rest of the day happened without me using my brain, and until today, I have no idea how or when I made it home. Fast forward a week. My now ex-girlfriend had literally moved out overnight. We only realized that she moved out, because we didn't see her at the dinner table. So, one of us went to see if she was okay, and saw that there was a letter on her table, which stated that she moved out overnight. Dumbfounded, we all looked at it, and also saw that the only things she took with her were some of her clothes and her personal files. She left us with her entire furniture, her TV, computer, stereo, CDs, and DVDs, and wrote in the letter that she won't need those things anymore. So we ended up with a room full of furniture and electronics that nobody wanted, needed, or even had the room to store it. The new tenant wasn't planned to move in for at least three weeks, and the rent for her room this month wasn't paid either, so we had a little problem to deal with, but nothing we couldn't solve. At least that was what we thought. Cue the doorbell. Our landlord stood in the door, and told us that our rental deposit account was emptied out this morning, and he demands to know why. I told him that as far as I knew, there were only two people that had a bank card for that account. One was with him, and the other one was in our rental folder. Our card had no permissions to withdraw any money from the account. Its only purpose was to get the bank statements, so the bank won't send us one via snail mail every month. I also told him that I worked from 8pm until 4am in the morning, and went straight to bed until roughly 10am, so I have no idea what happened during that time frame. So we took a look into our rental folder, and yep, the card was still there. We also went to a computer to take a look at the account online, and yep, it was emptied out roughly eight hours ago by card number two. So the landlord and I went to the bank to ask how it was possible that someone is allowed to withdraw money from the account. With a card that doesn't even have the permission to do so. The bank teller looked at our cards, and told us right away that those were cards one and three. The landlord and I just looked at each other with a look of disbelief on our faces. We instantly knew what was going on, and the bank teller confirmed it to us. Card number two belonged to my now ex-girlfriend, who opened the account three years ago, and the last time that card was used was at a bank roughly 300km away from us. We decided to get all the information and writing so we can take it to the police. After all, we were talking about a deposit of three rents for the whole flat, each 1200 euros. And a credit line of 1000 euros, the bank had added without us knowing, which made a total of 4600 euros, and there was no way we were letting her get away with that. But before we went to the police, I thought it would be a good idea to at least pay the rent for the month, since my landlord was already there, and we both were at the bank. So I went to the ATM to see if all of my flatmates had paid their share of the rent, and guess what? Our rent account was emptied out too, but it wasn't only emptied out. It was also overdrawn to the maximum amount possible, which was one month's rent. Also, the money for our regular bills like water, power, etc. was missing, so she stole roughly 7500 euros from us. I went pale and wanted to cry right there, because I was the one that had to tell it to my flatmates. So I bid the bullet and told them what happened. Two of them immediately blamed me for the whole mess, and demanded that I pay all of it out of my own pocket. One just sat there and said nothing, and the last one just said that since he was moving out anyways, we shouldn't worry about the deposit, and pay it back whenever we are able to. Which was an offer I couldn't refuse, so we ended up with a contract stating that we pay him back with small monthly rates. The real heroes, however, were the bank teller in our landlord. The bank teller told us that my ex-girlfriend was still an account holder on both accounts. And while he couldn't tell us officially that we can remove ourselves from the accounts, he dropped hints, left, right, and center that it is possible to do so. For example, he asked a co-worker if there are any special rules to remove an account holder from an overdrawn account. The only rule that existed was that there had to be at least one active account holder left. So my landlord got himself removed from the deposit account, leaving my ex-girlfriend as the only account holder, and I, after avoiding all cards, did the same with our rent account. Our landlord also told us that because of everything that had happened, he would refrain from collecting the rent that month, and that we can take our time to refill the new deposit account. We were also able to work out a deal with our water and power provider, again small rates, so the only thing we were behind was actually our phone bill. Five months later, I received a call from ex-girlfriend. She was crying and yelling at the same time, which made it rather hard to understand her. But what I could gather from the call was, the bank had terminated the bank accounts since both were overdrawn for more than three months without any money movement. And they demanded impromptu payment of 2,200 euros, plus interest, so roughly 2,400 euros. She wasn't able to pay this amount since she used the stolen money to rent a new flat for her and her boyfriend. Her boyfriend, however, found out what she did, probably after the first court order arrived and moved out. Since she was pregnant and didn't work, she couldn't pay the rent anymore, and her newly ruined credit score kept her from getting a new cheaper flat. And the only ones she could think of, that could maybe find it in their hearts to help her and forget what happened were us. Her exact words, her old flatmates that she screwed over. I still remember the exact words I said to her before hanging up and blocking her number. Me. Well, you already screwed six guys in one night. Maybe you should make a career out of it. Mr. Reddit, if you want to, put it in a video, or just laugh at it. You have to sell it to me for two dollars, or it's false advertising. Hey, for all who remember my first post on this subreddit, I'm back with another. I wish I wasn't, honestly. I hate dealing with entitled parents and all their BS. But apparently it seems to follow me whether I like it or not, so here we are. Very much like the last story, this RC truck was involved. It was a cheap find at a pawn shop, and I'm fixing it up before I decide if I'm keeping it or selling it. This story takes place at my local hobby store while I was buying parts for it. At one point, I had set it down leaning up against the counter while I chatted with the employee, and I set another part on top of it. This, again, was my mistake. As I was chatting with the employee about this little RC truck with a camera in it that she had gotten to mess with her cats, a father and his son wandered into the RC section. They were looking at the different models on the shelves, and from the sound of things, the kid had earned himself some money and was buying himself an RC model. At some point, the kid noticed mine, and mistook the price tag on the bagged part for the price of the truck. Look, Dad, this one's only two dollars! Really? That doesn't seem right, let me see. As the kid picks up my truck, I take notice and walk over. Oh, sorry, that's mine. I left it there because I didn't want to hold it for half an hour while I harassed this poor girl, you know, gesturing towards the RC employee as I talked, and she laughed. Sorry about that. It's a cool truck, though. Thanks. You know, they have similar models available here. I point to the tracks' shelf where they have the newer upgraded version of this truck. I spend a few minutes showing this guy and his kid the various models, and he comments on how expensive the tracks his ones are, and starts looking at the cheaper, more beginning grade ones. They pick out a nice 118th ECX ruckus, and the dad tells the kid to go ask his mom to make sure she's okay with him buying this. The kid runs off and comes back with a woman who I assume is his mom. She didn't have the stereotypical Karen look, but she had the look in her eyes. Anyone who is actually dealt with the entitled parents or insane people knows the look. "What's one of you works here?" the employee says. "Uh, that would be me." "My son here tells me that he found a truck for two dollars, but you wouldn't sell it to him." "No, Mom. I said it belongs to that guy." He points at me. "Did you have a price tag on it?" By this day, I'd been smart enough to take the pawn shop price tag off the hood of the thing. It was a pain in the butt. "Well, no, it had this on it. I hold up the bagged part." "Let me see that." She snatches it out of my hand. Entitled Mom spends a minute studying the tag on the bagged part, almost like if she stared hard enough she could find the secret to the Karen code, an ancient mystery lost to the guild of Karens for decades. "This says Traxxas, right?" "Well, yes, but-" "And this truck is a Traxxas, right?" "I mean, it is, but-" "Then this is the price for the truck." "Well, no, that's not how this works." "Why not?" "It says Traxxas on the tag." Employee then gestures to the wall of parts, with probably several thousand parts, all in a similar tag bags. Entitled Mom gets redder in the face. "This is false advertising. I get sued for this." The dad then runs over and interjects, likely having dealt with this before. "Why don't you go wait in the car? I'll deal with this." Entitled Mom takes a minute to compose herself and leaves with one parting shot. "Fine, but you better let them have it." She leaves, and as soon as she's out the door, the dad turns to both of us. "Sorry about her, guys. She does this a lot. We'll take the orange ECX truck for my son, though." As she's grabbing it off the shelf, the kid asks his dad. "Dad, what are you going to tell Mom?" "I don't know, buddy. Maybe that there was something wrong with the truck. Or that they both got eaten by bears. I've got a couple minutes. I'll figure it out." And with that, they pay and leave. And the employee and I had a good laugh about this insane woman, and what her husband probably wove for a tale to keep her happy. Next up, we've got... "Give my child your money. I don't care if they don't know you." Okay, first things first. I'm on mobile. The grammar is going to be crap. All grammar police, please cease fire. I tried to post this story a while ago, and didn't understand the rules of Reddit. So with that being said, let's get into it. First off, I think this story should be included in r/choosingbeggars too, but you guys decide. Now, when I got to the neighborhood, my neighbors across the street told me about these jerks down the last block of the street. I just brushed it off and said to myself, "I don't have to worry about them." Oh, how wrong I was. Back story. I just moved into a new neighborhood last summer, and it is my first home. My neighbors are beyond great. They've been in the neighborhood over 15 to 25 years, which means they know everybody and everything that goes on. So after I get to know my neighbors, we get close and welcomed me in with open arms. Now, fast forward until July, we decided to have a big barbecue before the fourth, and we are putting together a list of goodies. In this area, everything is so convenient. We have restaurants, CVS, dollar stores, gas stations, etc. But the general store at the corner of my street was stocked with everything you can imagine. The problem was it was off the alley of the jerks I will get to. After we get the list together for the barbecue, the rest of the items I can get from the general store. I was offered a ride, but I want to enjoy the weather. I regret this later. Now to the cast. We've got the begging kid. We have the entitled mother, the drunk dad, and, well, you know, me. Well, after everything is said and done, I grab the list of the last items and walk to the general store. Again, I get asked, do I need a ride, and I decline since I want to enjoy this nice weather. While I'm walking, I get a call. It's my sister asking me what time she should come and what to bring. Now, I finally get to the alley leading to the store. It's a mixture of a war zone and old school music with over 10 to 12 kids yelling. It was that many kids. I counted walking through the alley. Now, ladies and gentlemen, is where the crazy happens. Hey, old man. I'm 33, by the way, but I guess I'm old to younger kids. Hey, old man! My sister's still on the phone. Is someone talking to you? Being sarcastic. I don't think so. Being it was so loud with their music and kids running around yelling at the top of their lungs, I really couldn't pay attention to anything that was coming from the area. Hey, old man in the basketball shorts. What the heck? Are you talking to me? Yeah, you are the only one I'm talking to. You little jerk. What's up? Can I have $5 so I can go to the store? Um, no. Heck no. I don't know you. And plus, why are you asking a stranger for money? The begging kid is a girl. Go ask your parents or whoever's in charge of you. Um, I don't want to. Are you going to give me the money or nah? She actually said this word for word. No, I don't know you. So begging kid walks off and my sister is dying laughing on the phone. So I end my call with her. Go into the store, pick up everything on my list, and leave. Now, walking back through the alley, I see beggar kid and entitled mom, and I think to myself, "Here we go with the BS." Is that him, beggar kid? Yeah, that's him. I'm thinking to myself, "Good. She's about to make beggar kid apologize or something." Nope. Wrong again. Did she ask you for some money? Yeah. And I told her she cuts me off. So where is it? Where is what? I hope you're not talking about the money, because I'm not giving you or her money. At this point, I'm fuming, and don't care what I say to them. You promised my baby money. So give it to her. Plus, I know what you drive. You can afford it. I drive a 2010 Escalade at the time. I don't care what you see me drive. I'm not giving a random begging kid my money. And you need to teach her not to ask random people, especially men for money. They don't know. At this time, the neighbors that lived around the house, plus people walking into the store and walking out, see the situation go down. Even the owner of the store came out to see what was going on. So, you're not going to give her the money. I go get her dad then. She and beggar kid walk off and I scream, "Go get him then!" So I started walking back to my house, but I turned the other way down the second part of the alley. Here comes drunk dad. Is that him? Hey, that's him. Hey, my man. Come here. At this time, he's trying to run towards me, but he was so drunk that the more he ran towards me, the more his balance said no, so he kept tripping over his feet. As soon as I started walking back, the police showed up. Someone called the police and told them what was going on. They stopped me, and I tell them everything, and the store owner and neighbors told them what happened. After all that, they went to the store, looked at the surveillance video, and they said I could go. I found out later that their dad was arrested for being drunk and disorderly conduct. Entitled Mom was ticketed for disturbing the piece with the loud music. beggar kid was kicked out of the store multiple times for stealing and asking random people for money in and outside of the store, plus her brothers and sisters. After that, I never walked to the store again. I'd rather burn gas for a two-minute drive than to deal with this crazy stuff again. Next, we've got Entitled Kid Spits in My Phase. What's up Reddit? I've been looking around on this sub for a while, and finally decide to contribute a post. I don't actually know if this post fits here, but if it doesn't, suggestions are welcome. Also, grammar and punctuation aren't my strongest points, so go ahead and roast me. So this all went down when I was in 8th grade. I'm 20 now. When I was 11, me and my three younger siblings, sister, and two brothers, were put into foster care. I've come to terms with the fact that I was in the system and why I don't feel embarrassed anymore about that part of my life. So, when I was going into my 8th grade year in middle, we, me and my sister, who was two at the time, were placed in a different home because our family friend who was caring for us at the time had to move out of the country and could not take us with her. Now, meet Entitled Mom. But for the sake of the story, I'm going to call her Miss C. She was a 40-ish black woman. CPS tried to make it a habit to place kids in a home with the same racial background, who at the time of meeting her was okay. Her two daughters lived with her, a 20-year-old who was her biological daughter, nice daughter, and an 8-year-old girl who was adopted as a baby, entitled kid. She was a rotten child. At first, everything was fine until a week or so of us being there when I noticed that she treated me and my sister differently. A bad sort of differently. She would make my sister stand in one spot of the living room all day until there were literally footprints of where she stood in the carpet. Every time we went out, she made it a point to tell everyone that Entitled Kid was her child and that me and my sister were the ones that weren't a part of their family. Just a lot of things that would hurt a kid's emotional state she did. I have a ton of stories on her, but I'm just going to focus on this one for now. Even though this happened so long ago, I remember it clearly. It was a Saturday evening and I was sitting on the floor because Mrs. C wouldn't let me or my sister sit on the couch, watching TV when Entitled Kid came into the living room. She sat down on the couch and proceeded to munch loudly on a snack she grabbed from the kitchen. It was annoying but wasn't a big deal. When she realized I wasn't going to respond, she stood up and stood directly in front of me. Can you move? I can't see the TV. I don't want you to watch. Can you just move? You're not the boss. It's my house. Not yours. That may be the case, but you're being rude. Entitled Kid starts yelling. You can't tell me what to do. At this point, I'm not going to argue with an eight-year-old and just move to another spot to watch TV. Once again, she moves in front of me and gets in my face. She sticks out her tongue showing all the chewed up food in her mouth. Entitled Kid, get out of my face before I get your mom. Now I'm the calmest person you could ever meet, but I have to admit that I lost it in the next few moments. She had the literal nerve to spit in my face. My first reaction was to hit her. Not hard enough to actually hurt her, but just enough to make her learn her lesson. Looking back now, I do feel bad, but at that moment, I just saw red. Entitled Kid has a look of shock on her face before she started to cry. She got up from the floor. She was standing over me when she spit, so when I hit her, she fell and ran to her mom. In storms, Miss C. What did you do to entitled Kid? She spit in my face, and I hit her. Why would you do that? She's the child. And, if she has the nerve to spit in someone's face, she should be able to take the consequences. She probably didn't even spit on you. You just wanted to hit her. All you foster kids are the same, full of violence and can't be grateful for being in someone else's home. I'm boiling mad, because from the moment we stepped foot in our home, she mentally and emotionally abused us. I want to call my case worker. At this point, Miss C. shut up, and I knew why. If I called my case worker and reported her, we would be removed from her home. And that meant no more fat checks, especially since my sister was considered disabled, mainly because of what Miss C did to her. And possibly getting her license to foster children revoked. For the rest of that week and the next, she tried to suck up to me, but when it came time for me to speak to my case worker, I sung like a canary. And when my case worker made none of it, but didn't do anything, I made sure to put it on the long list of transgressions towards Miss C for when I went to court. Not very satisfying, but this was only one part of many stories about Miss C and my birth family, if you guys would like to hear about it. Her house was heck, but every bunch has a bad apple, and I just chalked this up as a bad experience. Thanks for listening. And our final story of the day, a Karen tries to make me give her kids singing lessons. Cast, we've got me, we've got the entitled mom, we've got the mean kid, the nice teacher, and the helpful kid. A little backstory, I was 10 when this happened, and mean kid was saying she was my friend, but she was lying. One day, smack in the middle of the year, about four months prior to the Karen encounter, I was singing zombie with mean kid, who wasn't as good as she was bragging about. She claimed she was better than Ariana Grande and Beyonce combined. She accused me of trying to be better than her, because I'm jealous of her, talent and perfection. She ignored for a week. On to the story. We were on our final field trip of the year, and I was put in helpful kid and mean kids group. I forgot about the incident four months prior, and I improved on my singing, and don't call me conceited, please, but I feel like I am a pretty good singer. Definitely no Ariana Grande, but at least better than mean kid. Me and mean kid were back at it again, singing perfect this time, which my voice was better suited for, and this ticked mean kid off. Note, I was shy, antisocial, and sensitive, and still am. Mean kid. Why are you always trying to be better than me? You are a terrible friend and a horrible singer. What? Did I do something to upset you? A remark kind of caught me off guard. Yes, you did. You took singing lessons because you were jealous of my talent at singing. Mean kid, I swear that isn't the case. I would never purposely upset you. I don't take singing lessons. I just practice. I'm sort of- You're a liar. You only try and sing better than me, because you're jealous I am prettier and better at singing and more talented than you. So at this point, I was fighting back tears because I don't handle being yelled at very well, and I was a little embarrassed because everyone was looking at me. While mean kid strutted over to her mom, I ran over to nice teacher who was our teacher for class and nearby with her group. Teacher? Is it too late to be in your group? Why? Did something happen? Well, mean kid is mad at me. I can't change your group, but I can't stay close by if anything happens. I nodded and walked back to my group. Enter Karen. Hello? Are you OP? Uh, yeah, I am. My precious mean kid is telling me that you won't tell her you're singing coach and you are bullying her. I laugh nervously. Miss, I don't have a singing coach. You lying, disrespectful girl. My poor mean kid is crying because of you. I demand you tell me you're singing coach. I really don't have a singing coach. Fine. Then teach my daughter and be her singing coach. I want her to be better than you. I inched closer to nice teacher to tell her something was wrong. Do not walk away from me young lady. Do you know who I am? Uh, teacher? I completely ignored Karen. What seems to be the problem? This child is making my poor mean kid cry by making fun of her and calling her names. She signaled mean kid to come over. She called me ugly, talentless, and bad at singing. I'll spare you the unimportant details because it was just a bunch of who did what jibba-java. I won the argument and mean kid and Karen were furious. I switched groups with helpful kid who was nice enough to volunteer. Later we were going to the buses and there are these concrete stairs we have to go down. And I kid you not. Karen, not mean kid, but Karen stuck her foot out and if it weren't for helpful kid pulling me out of the way, I could have broken some bones. Karen was banned from ever chaperoning and was kicked off PSA, a school parent program. Mean Kid was suspended for three days and ISS for a week. What I got was a nice friend and a nice teacher. Karma is the best. By the way, I give full permission to use this story if that ever happens. Entitled X and Family, Controlling Family. Hey Mr. Reddit, so I finally decided to start sharing some of my own experiences. I tried to keep it pretty clean, but there are a few moments. Sorry about that. Okay, so before I get into this, I need to make it clear. This relationship I am posting about was very, very toxic and seriously messed me up in my mental state. To a point where I went from confident to pure submissive and unsure of myself 24/7, please read with this in mind. I kept out certain triggers as to not trigger others. The X isn't the only guilty one. His mom, entitled mom, and sister, entitled sister were a huge part of all of this. D is his mom's boyfriend, who was nothing short of lovely. But for now, I'll just share a small part of what happened. Plenty happened over seven years. So just to paint the picture for you all, because it will make more sense. I'm a white, British female. I was also lucky enough to be fostered and adopted by my best friend and his family. My ex and his family are Indian. This will make sense later. So, from the get-go, things were odd to say the least. From the first day I was introduced to my ex's family that consisted of his mom, his sister, and his mom's boyfriend. He's also a white, British guy. Again, me mentioning this will make sense. So it was a very nervous time for me. I'm very anxious and wary of new people, new places, and new noises in general. I am very introverted, which not everyone understands, and feels is me simply being rude. Regardless to how I try to explain it, it just takes me time to get to know people. Anyway, so the first day I met my ex's family as soon as I stepped foot in the door, his mom, entitled Mom, says hello. Pretty much attached herself to me with a hug, which threw me. As mentioned, it takes time for me to get used to new people. And having my space invaded so suddenly resulted in quite the expression from me. And as entitled Mom goes to move away, she makes it clear who she is. It went as followed. Hello, OP. My son has told me so much about you. I do hope you realize that he deserves the best. I expect great things from both of you. I was still in shell shock from having my space so suddenly invaded. Was a bit violating if I am honest. However, as I'm about to open my mouth and introduce myself, I kid you not. She announced to me. I'm going to need your mobile number as well. I like to make sure I can always get in touch with my son. I remember thinking to myself. Right, okay, I guess it makes sense. Maybe it will make sense. I was already trying to justify this for it to make sense. However, red flags were going off. Everything felt like it was going 100 miles per hour. But I tried my best to not let the sudden invasion throw me off. So moving on a few months, I get to know them more and more. My ex's mom starts forcing us to spend time together, making it clear that this is good for us. I'm talking every single day. Every time I went over to visit, she would force us all to spend time together. Honestly, it was very suffocating for me. I'm all for family time, but this was getting crazy. And then I noticed more red flags. Aside from the obvious power, control, freak, red flags, and her entitlement. Each time I was over, she would be telling my ex she's texted such and such to come over. Me being me, I thought it was family. No harm in that. Fair enough. No harm in that. Then we hear her shouting and screaming through the phone from the kitchen. Turns out she was leaving voicemails. I just hope they didn't have headphones in for that. I mean, she was full on banshee screaming. I honestly thought someone had done something wrong, but someone had seriously messed up. My ex and I go in when it's quiet, and she just lets rip. Turns out, she had texted my ex's friends to come over and spend time with us. I later learned that she does not ask people to come over. She tells them to, because they owe her. Yeah. So she starts ranting and raging about my ex's friends not coming over. How disappointed she is in all of them. How? Basically like my own sons, how dare they not come over, ungrateful grands. After all I have done for them. And even more swears and self-important raging. I decided to go and sit in the lounge. I was still trying to process why she had the numbers of my ex's friends and why she's reacting like this. I went to the couch closest to the door of entering the lounge. It's basically a front door, little hallway, and turned left to enter the lounge. But, given how she is, I figured I'd just leave it for now. I was unaware of her outbursts. Entitled mom comes into the lounge, along with entitled sister, and of course, my ex. They sat down on the larger couch, and immediately started badmouthing the ex's friends. Now, I hadn't met them yet, but this felt so wrong. The things that were said honestly sickened me. If you care about people like family, you do not come off with the sort of things I heard. So, I decided to switch off of them, and pulled out my phone, checking Facebook and my messages. By this point, entitled mom's boyfriend had come home from work. So, her boyfriend has literally just come through the door. He works long hours. He's very successful when it comes to his work. I won't get into it too much. He assists with setting up businesses. Now, by this point, me and him get along well, and have had a variety of conversations that have been nothing but polite, positive, and generally comforting. No conflicts are badmouthing at all. If anything, our shared sense of humor led to silly conversations and scenarios. And if you're thinking the entitled mom didn't like it, you'd be right. She didn't. But that rounded drama is for another time. Her boyfriend had just taken his shoes off and come into the lounge, greeting everyone and asking how everyone is. And entitled mom, entitled sister, and my ex just looked at him. His face just dropped. This poor guy had been working for over 14 hours, and his face was that of sheer dejection. And oh boy, here we go again. Just as he was about to ask how everyone's day was, entitled mom starts wailing and going full on Karen. Entitled son's friends refused to come over to eat. I am furious. How could they? After everything I have done for them, after all the help I've given them over the years, after all the holidays I've allowed them to come on with us. And now they tell me no. Her boyfriend asked what I refused to ask. I looked at him with wide eyes trying to quietly express, "Don't do it." But he did. Poor guy went there. I was closest to the door facing away from them. Her boyfriend says, entitled mom. They aren't kids anymore. You need to be considerate of their working hours. They're both working full time jobs, in firms. They also have to travel at times like I do. I'm sure it's, but he was cut off. Entitled mom was having none of it. If I tell them to come over and eat and spend time with us, I expect them to do it. After all I have done for them, the least they can do is come and spend time with me when I tell them to. Yes, I kid you not. This is how it was going down. This, as I would soon come to learn in just over seven years, was the norm when she was told no. I'd have a better chance of growing another hand from my head than being able to say no without any drama. So entitled mom continues shouting at her boyfriend about this. And I figured I'd just go to the bathroom just to get away for a few minutes, hoping that it would all be over and done with by the time I'm done. So I go and do my thing. I can still hear entitled mom's voice echoing in the house. This woman has no off button, but I really wish she had a mute option at least. The bathroom was upstairs just above the kitchen, so it was easy to still hear everything. Now onto the main area that resulted in her boyfriend snabbing at her and me packing up everything and going home. As I came back downstairs, entitled mom is still going on. However, her boyfriend is doing his best to calm her down and explaining to her that she, my ex, and the entitled sister really do need to stop treating people like they owe her something. That, doing something nice for someone, be it a friend or your sons or daughters friends, it doesn't mean you can hold it over them. Which was true. However, entitled mom, entitled sister and my ex always did that. Trust me, anything my ex did for me was used against me, and I will share such things in another post later on. As I go to sit down, my ex and entitled sister decided to put their attention towards me. I was already used to this, even after a few months into the relationship. My ex. Would you be upset if your friends refused to spend time with you and your family, despite how much your family has done for them? Entitled sister. We are just a really close family, and we do a lot to help people, so it's only right that people come over when we tell them to, especially when it's just coming over for dinner. I was looking at them at times when they were directly talking to me. However, I kept my phone in my hand as a means of escape if needed. I was very uncomfortable during all of this, and then entitled mom shimes in. Please note, by this point, they are aware that I was fostered, adopted. Would your mother be upset if she texts your friends, inviting them over, and they refused? Now, I am a very blunt person. I really did learn the hard way that I couldn't be myself around these people. Hence, why everything else that was about to happen ended with me always having to apologize. Always. My mom doesn't have my friends' numbers. She doesn't organize when my friends can or will see me. None of my other friends' parents do this either. We simply meet up as we can. I honestly find it very odd that you have your sons and daughters' friends of mobile numbers and organize when they can and should come over. Oh boy. Oh boy. I really did learn that day. Not to ever be that honest or blunt. I'm sorry for the increase of the no-no's here, but crap hit the fan. The sound she made. Honestly, the scream noise of shock that woman produced made me jump. I could swear it felt like my heart was in my mouth. I could taste my underwear. It was that horrific and made me jump. Later on, I got used to that noise. Entitled mom went off. She was shouting at me. Excuse me. What would you know about a family? What do you know about family? You have no idea how a real family functions. We are close. I know everything. I am their mother. It is my place to control all of these situations and people. And there was more, but I started seeing red at this point. As she was taking a much needed breather and continued to screw up her face in anger whilst glaring at me, I figured I was going to go ahead and just tell her what I thought. Bad times. Very bad times. I am part of a family, you know. I do know how the family thing works. But to me, having your son and daughter's friend's numbers is not only odd. It's controlling as well. I didn't get another word and after that. Your actual family didn't want you. You ran away because you were clearly not wanted. You know nothing of a close family life. I don't know how your kind thinks it works. But for us, for our culture, this is normal. I refuse to have your racist ignorance tell me otherwise. By this point, I was done. That moment showed me, no matter what I say or do, there is no point in being honest or blunt. So I packed up my stuff and headed home. I was still trying to process everything. Whilst I was getting my stuff together, her boyfriend had snapped. This gentle giant of a man was telling entitled mom how disappointed he was with her. He was still handling himself well. But he had clearly had enough of this. I didn't listen in, but as I came downstairs, he was in tears. He decided he needed to get away for a few days, and as such, he ended up leaving later in the evening. I only know that because my ex told me and tried putting the fault onto me. Yup, my ex, entitled mom and entitled sister, actually put the blame onto me. My ex was messaging me when I got home, telling me how it was my own fault, how his mom means well and knows what she's talking about. And, as mentioned above, he was sure to tell me how it was my fault that their relationship issue had resulted in him leaving, that it was my fault. The two to three weeks that followed were heck for me. His mom, who obviously had my number, was using me to tell my ex that he had to go over now. She was literally forcing me to be in the middle to talk to him, which in turn made him angry. And again, this is where I started to learn that the relationship was not healthy. And I was constantly reminded of the cultural differences between us and ways that were anything but nice. However, I just went with it, anything to keep some form of peace. Now, as I mentioned, this was a long and painful relationship. It went on for about seven years. Before people ask, I did try leaving, multiple times. But I was always promised new things, better changes, and guilt it into going back. Which, I honestly have no excuse for. I should have stuck to it regardless. Basically, I was stupid and weak. Lessons learned. I ended up hardly seeing my own family, having no friends, working long hours to get away, etc. So much happened in this relationship, and I may share more at a later date. For now, I figured I'd just share my first actual "What the heck?" entitled much, moment. Thanks for reading. And our final story of the day, entitled "Uncles Stole My Turtle Plush" and "Runes My Vacation". Hi, Mr. Reddit. I'm a new member of the Re-Army. I love your videos. Nice. Thanks, Mother Death. This is my first post, blah, blah, blah. Tell me if my formatting is wrong. I'm not the sharpest tool in the shed. Background info. This was about five years ago. Dialogue is not exact. I'm 10 at the time of this story, and extremely emotional. I'm still emotional, but at this point in time, I would actually cry over spilled milk. I'm also admittedly very childish. I'm excited over small things, and I'm just simply a kid at heart. This is one reason why I am constantly made fun of in the family. I go on vacation to my mother's home state. This is where all of the family members meet twice a year. I have a large family, and I have at least 21 cousins on my mother's side. One cousin is three years younger than me, and has been given everything he wants. I'm the closest one age wise to him, and therefore I am forced to do what he wants. This is where I should probably start now. The not so lovely cast. We've got entitled kid, my cousin, entitled dad, my uncle, older cousin, and me. The first or second night of every vacation, which lasted about 10 to 14 days, the entitled kid's family and my family would go to eat at a certain restaurant. There was a small game room type of area in the restaurant, and I was given $5 from entitled dad just so I would go with entitled kid. Not a bad deal in all honesty. There was a claw machine that I used to spend as many quarters as I could use on the machine. This day, I was bent on retrieving a medium-sized turtle plush that I very dearly wanted. Entitled kids spent all his money on small things already. Those rigged claw machines, racing games, etc. He had quickly spent at least $10 on small games. He had also won about three small stuffed animals. I, on the other hand, was desperately trying to get the turtle. After about two games of this, I bugged one of my older cousins to help me get the plush. I hand him all the money that I can get, and he's off. Alas, older cousin does not get the turtle. I was a little bummed by this, but I knew I could push a little bit of money out of my parents. Entitled kid also tried to get some out of my parents because my mom gave her money. Jokes on him, my father didn't budge. I was given $5 to spend on whatever I wanted to. We all knew what I wanted. I once again handed all the money to my older cousins, and after a few more attempts, they had given up. Entitled kid was watching this happen after he spent all the rest of the money he could mooch. He then asks, "Could I try and get it for you?" Me, not realizing what was to come, said, "Sure." After a few attempts from Entitled kid, he got my beloved turtle. I was ecstatic. I went to grab the turtle and grab the quarters. Entitled kid got his slimy hand on the turtle before I could get there. I looked at him, a little shocked. "Uh, what are you doing?" He looked at me like he didn't do anything wrong. "I got it. It's mine." "You asked if you could help me." "Yeah, but I got it, and I like it." "It's mine." This little jerk shook his head and walked off with it. This is when I begin to get irritated. I continue after him and stayed a little bit louder. "This is mine. Give it back." He first takes this up with the older cousins, and they both agree with me. I should be given the turtle. Entitled kid was not happy with this, as he stomps back to the table where the adults are now drinking and watching a football game. Entitled dad. "Why are you two arguing?" "She's trying to take this from me." "I want it, and she's saying it's hers." "It is mine." "No, it isn't. I want it from the machine." "Yeah, but it was," Entitled dad shuts me down really quick. "If he want it, it's his. Stop lying about it. You're being so childish about this." "He was using my money." "Yeah, she gave it to me to play on the machine." "I begin to get angry now." "First, he takes it. Now he's lying." "No, I didn't." Entitled dad. Now shouting. "Wait, so did you give him the coins?" "Well, yeah, but there's no buts about this." "He wanted. He gets it." "That's not fair." "He said he was going to stop complaining about this." "It's his. Sit down before I get your parents involved, too." This gets me to sit down. I'm terrified of my dad when he gets mad. This was what finally got me to break down. I go and sit down by my mom, now ugly crying because I've left the situation in trouble with my uncle and I don't have the turtle. My mom, being an absolute angel to me and my behaviors, asks me why I'm crying. I explain the situation as well as unbiased as any 10-year-old could. She is now slightly annoyed. She has an upset kid and learned I spent a lot of the money that I was given. My parents always gave me the opportunity to save or play with the money. She walks up to Entitled dad and sits down explaining what I said. "Yeah, it's her turtle. She doesn't need it, but it was her money." Entitled kid volunteered to help her. She didn't say she was giving him the money. "He got it. I don't think it's right because he's the one who got the toy. He never said he would give it to her." My mom is more than frustrated and ends up talking to me about it. She enables him to do a lot of stuff, but she couldn't deny he was wrong and I got the turtle back. Entitled kid wasn't too happy about it, but he got over it. Entitled dad, on the other hand, made the rest of the trip heck. I'm already joked about in my family and every opportunity he could make a joke about how stupid and childish I was, he did. If any minor convenience happened, he'd ask me if I was going to cry or if I was going to ask as dumb as I did about the toy. Needless to say, that vacation made me hold a grudge against him for a long time. And what do we do with the witches? Long. Too long didn't read at the bottom. Many moons ago, as a sophomore in college, I landed a summer gig as a rifelry archery instructor at a camp for kids eight through 12th grade. I dealt with many entitled parents, but one of them takes the cake. The camp itself was secular, but for two weeks they would rent out facilities and staff to a crazy church. They paid good coin in advance though. Were it not for the coin? We had never have done business with them. They made other crazy churches seem sensible by comparison. They had been a client for years, so our director knew they caused a lot of headaches. She told us not to do anything stupid that would set them off. I generally don't mind the beliefs of others, so long as they're not hurting themselves or others. So here we go. Cast. We've got me. We've got Karen. We've got sad daughter, camp director, and defeated dad. It was receiving day for this church group, and part of our job as counselors was to make sure that the kids were properly outfitted to stay for two weeks and didn't have CD or MP3 players. That's when I met sad daughter and the Karen to end all Karens. Sad daughter was withdrawn, clearly intelligent, and when the skies darkened with the incoming of Karen, her eyes started screaming at me, though she didn't make a sound. I know fear when I see it. Sad daughter was clearly practiced at hiding her feelings. Sadly, out of necessity, I wager. Still, she introduced herself sheepishly. My introduction was cut short. Karen stormed in just full of anger. She eyed the cabin, looking for the slightest flaw to unload on someone. Lucky me. Sad daughter, maybe about 13 and 110 pounds, was dwarfed by the hulking jiggly mask that was her mother, and I mean mother in the loosest sense possible. Her perm was atrocious, and her cheap perfume was layered on thicker than a side of grits. Back then, I was a meat sack in decent shape, and I'm 6 feet tall. Not that it mattered to Karen. She lumbered over and started tossing sad daughter stuff like she was a bloodhound on a kilo of blow. I will never forget her huffing as she made a mess. I cringe even now. And what I can best describe as a reenactment of Pompeii, finding the Harry Potter notebook and her daughter's things made Karen explode molten crazy all over me. Shoving the notebook in my face like it was radioactive, she started ranting on about how Harry Potter was witchcraft, and promoted relations with Satan, and would lead my precious baby astray, and so on. She thrusted the notebook into my hands and told me to burn the filth. I was told that I should be rate sad daughter for being so unfaithful and that I should punish her accordingly. What did this lady want? For me to torch her kid as a witch? Silly lady, this ain't Salem. I said nothing, and sad daughter looked like she was about ready to cry. I've got a soft spot for kids that have it rough. I took a knee to get eye level with sad daughter, and gently asked if it was her diary. She shook her head no, so I asked if I had her permission to flip through it. Karen, clearly surprised that I was not cowed by her rant, kept pushing. What does it matter for the diary? You need to tell her Harry Potter is evil, and that she's not allowed to have that. It's contraband. You all need to pray over her right now with hands. Lady, not only no, but heck no. Unbeknownst to me, she was loud enough that someone fetched the director. For the best, really, as the condescending and entitled way she elongated the word contraband, as if I was supposed to be dazzled was the exact moment I decided that this crap would not fly. Even without the crazy, I was a guest at how she disregarded her daughter's agency. I put on my best customer service tone and posture. Karen looked on smugly as I flipped through the blank pages. Anyone with common sense looking on would have clearly seen that I was irated. Ma'am, I am not touching your daughter without her consent. And even if given, I still wouldn't, as it would be inappropriate. I see no runes, incantations, glyphs, hexes, or symbols that would indicate witchcraft of any sort. If I may please, sad daughter, are you familiar with the Goesha? Perhaps the lesser key of Solomon, the rights of binding or the supplication of principles? For a moment, they were both confused. I could see the gears in Karen's head grind and overheat trying to keep up. Sad daughter, just sugarhead, no. Sad daughter, do you weigh the same as a duck? More confused looks. My glaring red flag that this entire situation was patently absurd went entirely unnoticed. Ma'am, this notebook does not qualify as contraband by our policies. And while I understand your concern, this is her property. And I am bound by said policies to return it. Ah, there's the director if you want to share your concerns. Walking in, the director was a no BS kind of lady and was especially sensitive and caring towards children from abusive backgrounds. All it took was a look for me and she got everything she needed. Karen finally stopped sucking wind long enough to start yelling at the director that I should be fired for being a witch. But the notebook should be destroyed and that she expected a full refund and would be taking her daughter home. Away from our din of sin. The irony of being accused based on the same competence which she had moments earlier relied upon was not lost on Sad daughter. The amount of over it sorry in her eyes could not be quantified. The director simply killed her with kindness. No refund, no burning, and my actions would be taken under review, which meant nothing would come of it. Karen acted as if she were a beauty queen being insulted on her appearance by lepers. She started screaming about the camp, the staff, the directors, so on and so forth. She swore up and down that no one from her church would ever do business with us ever again and that she knew the pastor personally who would be coming in on her behalf to get a full refund for the entire group. Her cherry on top was "My man is a lawyer and he'll sue y'all into the ground." The director squared up to her right away and told her she could calm down or be escorted off the premises and banned from returning. Uncowed, Karen kept at it until the director radioed security. "We have no security." Score one for improv theater. That finally calmed her down as she trudged back towards the entry lot. As soon as she left Sad daughter started crying. I waved to the director to get her attention and she comforted the poor kid. She looked at me like I was a guardian angel Santa in shining armor when I handed the notebook back to her. Sad, really. As you probably guessed, nothing came of it and Sad daughter stayed for the full two weeks. Her dad picked her up on a utility company truck. Unless he was a lawyer representing power lines, Karen lied. Shocker. This guy was big enough to eat Karen and I for an appetizer, but Sad daughter ran right to him and he gave her a big hug and a kiss. The director told the dad that Karen was no longer welcome at the camp but Sad daughter was a wonderful child and we would love to have her back next year. The dad just gave her a resigned huff and said thank you. I would be impressed by his stoicism where I not so moved to pity him. Apparently this wasn't his first rodeo. His whole effect screamed learned loneliness in spite of his earnest happiness at seeing his daughter again. Were I that defeated in life, I probably would have resorted to giving up. Now, whether it was a bigger small victory standing up for this kid is a matter of how you look at it, I guess. After all these years, it still makes me sad that this was the kind of environment she was coming up in. The next two weeks are a story for another time, but by the end I was confident that Sad daughter would endure long enough to strike out on her own. I imagine she's out there now, successful, happy and free from her monstrous mother's garbage. I hope her dad is too. Next up we've got my fourth grade teacher told me how she will yell at my dad, got her butt handed to her by a lieutenant. This story needs a little explanation. My mom and dad used to work for the government correctional services way back. The perks for government employees are kind of epic if it wasn't for the change they made in 2002. One of the perks was subsided school fees, and that is where I had the worst two terms of my fourth grade. The school I was attending was a public school, as the subsidized school fee perk was if the kids attended public schools only. The school gave you one of two choices, pay for the whole year or monthly payments. The monthly option was there for the perk for government workers, so you all know what my parents had to do. Being eight at the time, and not even understanding yet where this magical thing called money was coming from, was one of the reasons this teacher was an epic entitled teacher. She wasn't an old teacher. Looking back now, she was around 30 years old. Give her take a couple wrinkles because she was dealing with inner city kids. The thing I hated was every time well before my parents paid a. I would be told to stand up, come to the front of the class, and would have to explain where my school fees are. Think to yourself, you only know that your mom and dad give you money for a snack, and even this is a rare occasion. I would get five rand, about $3 in 1994. I would get a sandwich in a soda. Money was tied back then, and I never cared. I got what I needed. You don't need more than that. So back to me, standing in front, getting yelled at for four months. We've got the entitled teacher. We've got me. More will be added where they come into play. Where are the school fees? I don't know, miss. They never gave it to me. I would say in a quiet voice. This usually happened long before government paid hay. Tell them they need to give it to you. She would always end it with a wave to tell the other person to take his or her seat again. The first month was easy, never getting called out again. The 15th of January came. The school got its money. The next day in all would be hunky-dory. Well, until the first week of February, where I would get called up to the front of the class again. My young mind, not knowing yet, I was going to get the "Where is the school fee?" chat again. So it hit a little harder this time, not knowing how the school fee works or how my mom and dad get paid. Only that food was bought the first weekend after the 15th. This went on for the first term. By the second term, my young nerves got shut. As even at that age, you can put times and dates together. Every new month, after the first day, you get yelled at. It starts to sink in that you will get to stand in front and the whole class gets to look at you. But if it was the same thing that you were hearing in the first term, it wouldn't be good enough for Reddit. Right, Mr. Reddit? Her bi-monthly yells turned into bi-weekly until the fee was paid and her ranting started to get a little too much, saying things no one should yell or say to an eight-year-old. "Where are the school fees?" she was clearly getting annoyed. I knew better than to talk back. From term two, I started to stay quiet. Looking back, I think this upset her even more. "It isn't my job to get your parents to pay on time." With that said, it did hurt a little. By this time, I was a quiet kid and I can't remember enjoying anything at that age. I started to ask stuff that a kid shouldn't ask at eight years. Next up on the pitch is Awesome Mom and Lieutenant Dad. Mom, why are my school fees late? My mom gave me a confused look, but she smiled at me. "Gummy, we pay your school fees on the right date every month." From the next day, my dad would ask me random things, but working in the safety department, he was a smart cookie, never piling it on, rather asking me small things here and there, not letting me know he was mining for info. Mom said you asked her if the school fees were paid late. He smiled and set building Legos with me. I would save my birthday money and get a set, and my dad would watch TV as I built, but this time he was helping me. He didn't even look up and ask, "Do you think we pay it late?" Nope, Mom said we pay it on the right time, me being a goofy goober building spaceships from mixed Lego sets. If you want to know more, you just have to ask, buddy. With that, my mind was at ease for the rest of the week. Well, that is until she had me up and asked me the same line, but now reassured little gummy hamster had an answer. Big mistake. It was paid on time, Miss. Let me say again, big mistake. It is not paid, or I wouldn't have asked for it. She was now yelling at me. I have never seen anyone this mad when I didn't do anything wrong, but we do pay it. Never on time. I always have to drag it out of you. I was close to tears, and being a boy, you don't want to cry in front of your friends. Well, the one or two that I had. My mom and dad said we pay it on time every month. Your parents are wrong, and I will tell them they are wrong. It's the first of the month, every month. That night I broke down crying at home. My dad was the one that calmed me down and coaxed out everything from me. To say he was mad is to say the ocean is damp. It took my mom all night to calm him down and not to go into school and kicking her butt, and I am glad for the level-headedness that is my mom. Now this part I only found out in high school. It was my cousin that spilled the beans as he was living with us, and he was ten years older, so eighteen at the time of the big few job. All I know was my dad was coming home after meeting with the headmaster, vice principal, and entitled teacher. He walked in and smiled at me, gave me a hug and a kiss. Grow up, kissing your dad isn't gross, a peek on the cheek won't kill you, and just told me to tell him if entitled teacher says anything at me outside of class work. So here is the deeds that happened, as cousin dropped that on me when we talked about elementary school, and my mom gave me more details. I can't lie, I laughed so much I had tears in my eyes. My dad was mad, very mad. That level of angry that everyone can feel and see. I can only imagine it like the bloodlust they show on an anime. Yeah, I'm a nerd, deal with it. Headmaster and vice principal were quiet, so no conversation from them. I think it was more fear of getting the government to look in on this. "Good morning, Mr. and Mrs." My dad cuts her off, like only someone that went through a lot of military training. He had just gotten to one of the top positions in his department and had to go in for some minor officer training. "How dare you pick on an eight-year-old?" The headmaster and vice principal went wide-eyed, looking to the entitled teacher. "Whoa!" He cuts her off again. "We work for the government. We only get paid on the 15th of every month, and made the arrangements at the start of the year like we did the year before." My mom had to bring the headmaster and vice principal up on the events, as my fuming dad would rip into them too. They nodded when entitled teacher asked them if this was true about the payment. An entitled teacher had taken it on herself to find out which kids didn't pay yet and would ask without finding out if there were any arrangements that had been made. My dad demanded an apology, which I got in private. Didn't care as the damage was done. And if she spoke to me outside of schoolwork, or school rules, he would sue. True to the entitled teacher's word, she never spoke to me about anything non-school related. I can't say if it's PTSD or not, but I have never gotten over my fear of authority figures. Even now, I still get chills and panic attacks going in for meetings or interviews. And our final story of the day, entitled Brad is nasty to her new boyfriend, flip flops many times between him and her ex, gets escorted out of prom. This is my first post, so I'm not really sure how this works yet. I'm on mobile, typing with a Bluetooth keyboard, so forgive me for any dumb typos or misspellings. I'm visually impaired and have dealt with that my whole life. From middle school up until the end of high school, I was attending a school for the blind. This story takes place a year and a half ago at this school. Our cast includes, entitled Brad, the flip flopber, sweet kid, the survivor, school counselor, in charge of my weekly group and individual sessions. We have M, one of my friends who isn't afraid to speak her mind, S, another friend who takes no crap from anyone. We have J, one, innocent bystander, and J, two, innocent bystanders brother and me, the compassionate peacemaker. I had been friends with entitled Brad for six years before she started attending this school. When I first heard that she would be a student there, I was excited, and I couldn't wait to introduce her to my friends and show her around. Pretty much, as soon as entitled Brad met my friends, she started bugging them by obsessively talking about her boyfriend and hinting about how great her life is by constantly bringing up how her parents would fly her out of state rather frequently to be with her boyfriend. Mind you, I had a history of obsessing over boys, and my friends were used to it. At the time of this story, I had learned to tame my obsessions a bit and focus on socializing with my friends and being overall less irritating. Entitled Brad was the complete opposite, and like my past self, would often get defensive whenever we pointed out that she was annoying us. Entitled Brad had a long history of playing the victim, even when she was the problem in the first place. I had warned my friends ahead of time that entitled Brad was rather sensitive, and to try and make her feel comfortable. However, it seems she got way too comfortable. Entitled Brad developed a crush on Sweet Kid, who lived in my dorm. This was a boarding school, and the dorms will be important later. She brought this up during our weekly group counseling, which was comprised of four of my friends. While there is nothing wrong with having a harmless crush while you are already in a relationship as long as you keep it to yourself, Entitled Brad had more than a crush on Sweet Kid. In fact, it was a full blown obsession. Sweet Kid is so cute. She would say as she laughed giddily and proceeded to blush, "My friend, I'll call her M," said, "Be careful. You just met. Plus, you already have a boyfriend." Entitled Brad just said rather sheepishly, "I know, and that's why it's so complicated." Just a quick note. I don't remember the exact dialogue. I'm paraphrasing. We asked her what she wanted in her heart, and it looked for a couple of weeks like she was truly conflicted about which boy she liked more. But as the weeks went by, and as we got closer and closer to prom, everyone saw that vindictive person entitled Brad really was. One day during group, Entitled Brad told us that she decided to break up with her boyfriend, essentially dumping him for Sweet Kid. The only problem was that she was too nervous to ask him out herself, and being the supportive friend I wanted to be, and truly feeling as though Entitled Brad was being true to herself and Sweet Kid, I offered to ask him out for her. School counselor got excited and told me she was glad I was willing to support Entitled Brad in this, so long as nobody got hurt. During lunch one day, I told Sweet Kid I wanted to talk with him and invited him to a room we called the Music Room. Since lunch was in our dorms, we didn't have to walk far to get to the room, as it branched off from the living room area. The conversation went like this, and again, paraphrasing. So, what's up OP? Not much. I just wanted to talk to you about Entitled Brad. Sweet Kid, somehow knowing what was about to happen. Oh no, what is it? Me, not overly surprised at Sweet Kid's reaction, seeing as Entitled Brad was not subtle at all. She really likes you, and was too nervous to come talk to yourself, so I offered to do it as a friend. Sweet Kid, pulling his guitar out of his case, he usually did this after lunch and during free time anyway, says, "She wants to go out with me." It wasn't even a question, because he already knew what I was relaying to him, and again, Entitled Brad was not subtle at all. So, will you? Hoping he would say yes, so I didn't have to hear Entitled Brad cry incessantly for hours on end, believe me. With the amount of tears she cried that year, you'd think the water in the Charles River would have increased by 12% within one month alone. Sweet Kid, as nonchalantly as it could, as that was his easygoing personality all the time, said, "Sure." I invited Entitled Brad into the room and set her down purposely next to Sweet Kid for the good news. She acted surprised, like it was a surreal moment, and repeatedly asked me, "Am I dreaming? Is this really happening?" She and Sweet Kid immediately started cuddling on the window bench across from me, and I took that as my cue to exit the room and leave these two alone. The relationship between Sweet Kid and Entitled Brad seemed picture perfect at first, and all my friends, including the ones not in group with us, were happy for them. Unfortunately, fairy tales aren't real, and the relationship started showing cracks. It started in my home management class, which is essentially a class for visually impaired students to learn the basics of cooking and cleaning non-visually, a subject I excelled in. The class consisted of me, Entitled Brad, and another friend. We'll call him J-1, as there is another friend whose name starts with a J, and he is also important to the story. Five minutes before classes due to start, J-1 and I are sitting in a small dining area with our teacher, called "HM" for home management in this story, shooting the breeze with Entitled Brad. Immediately after the initial introductions, and after teachers stepped away to grab something from the nearby kitchen, Entitled Brad started talking all types of crap about her now ex-boyfriend. "I'm so glad I'm done with that, Jerick," she would say smugly. She would say other things like that as well. This struck me as odd, because before Sweet Kid came along, Entitled Brad only said sweet things about her ex, and practically berated anyone who said so much as, "His voice is funny," or something minor or stupid like that. Now it seemed that all of the sweet and overly saccharine things she was saying about her ex were now transferred practically verbatim to Sweet Kid, as if they were merely files being backed up and restored onto a new phone. Sorry, I'm a tech geek and needed to throw that in there somewhere. Come to find out, months later, entitled Brad "Dumped Sweet Kid" despite him having bent over backwards for her and went home on school break, where she rekindled her relationship with her ex-boyfriend. My friends and I were shocked, as even I, knowing her for six years, had not foreseen such a nasty side of her, and I never would have suspected her of being that evil. The very first day back from break, she started replacing all of the sappy things she would say to Sweet Kid with the nasty things she would say about her ex. This rubbed everyone the wrong way, and we all knew Sweet Kid longer than she had, and we believed none of the terrible accusations she tossed at him. My friend, we'll call him S, called her bull. You were just with Sweet Kid, and he would never do something like that. Entitled Brad burst into fake tears and cried. I know he did, he was with another girl. Yep, she accused him of cheating, and was quite vehement about it despite having absolutely zero evidence of it. When I tried to be compassionate and asked her who she thinks the other girl might have been, she flat-out said, "I'm not saying who." Which is entitled Brad Speak For. "I have no evidence, but I am the victim here. Please stop asking questions." Remember, I had been obsessive in the past, but I had never stooped so low as to accuse whoever I was with of cheating without evidence. I said, "Sweet Kid is not that kind of person. Trust me." I figured she would listen to me since we had been friends the longest. About a week later, she flip-flopped again. This time, her recently made friends noticed what Entitled Brad was doing to Sweet Kid, and they were having none of it. Except for a couple loyal friends, she stood practically alone with Sweet Kid at the end of her little yo-yo. Entitled Brad did this at least five more times throughout that year, and it caused a lot of animosity between her and my friends. It got to the point where all we wanted to do was warn Sweet Kid that this was unhealthy and that he should run. He never heeded our warnings, and my friends, J1, S, M, and eventually J2, J1's brother, decided it would be in Sweet Kid's best interests to go to the school counselors. There were multiple counselors, and each had a workload of certain students. Lucky for me and M, Entitled Brad had the same school counselor as us, and she had heard her side during her individual sessions, as well as mine and M's side in our individual sessions. All of my friends got our respective counselors together to discuss with Entitled Brad our concerns. The day we were scheduled to have the meeting, all of the dorm staff were advised to make sure that Entitled Brad attended. That sort of reinforcement was made because we all knew that Entitled Brad would pull a fast one and pretend she didn't know there was a meeting despite it being recorded in the morning notices that day, as well as a week prior. She, as well as everyone else in that school, received the daily notices by email each morning. She was no exception. The meeting was held during lunch in a conference room. It was just the girls, including the counselors and me, and we had all agreed not to intimidate Entitled Brad, as she was, as I say, very sensitive. She arrives purposely late to the meeting, and when my school counselor starts to say the words, "We want to talk to you about Sweet Kid." Entitled Brad picked up her designer bag and snobbishly said, "Nope, I'm not doing this. No, no, no." She stormed out crying in rage. Like I said at the beginning of this post, she was very sensitive and could be very defensive when we pointed out that she was in the wrong. By this point, there were only a few weeks left in the school year, and each week we tried and tried to reschedule the meeting, and each time Entitled Brad would either run out of the room crying or she just wouldn't show up. Disrespecting and inconveniencing all of us. School counselor got her mother involved, and she tried getting Entitled Brad to attend at least one of our meetings. We were all getting tired of her game, and by this point Entitled Brad had now lost even her most loyal friends. She stood alone completely, and poor Sweet Kid, bless his heart, was caught in the middle of all of it and still maintained that easygoing personality the whole time. Props to him as I bet anyone would have snapped after some entitled jerk tried to flip flop on them once and play the victim. The night finally came. Prom. Apparently, Entitled Brad had the audacity to show up at our prom with Sweet Kid after recently traveling out of state to attend the prom of her ex-boyfriend. By this time, her mother had had enough and confiscated her phone the month before. Finally, Justice was served when Justice Prom pictures were being set up, and all of my friends and I were preparing for our fun night together. M&S came running into the dorm, laughing and smiling with smugness in their voices. It turned out what Entitled Brad was doing to both her ex and Sweet Kid had proven too much for her usually overly lenient mother. M&S said that Entitled Brad was screaming as her mother blocked her from entering the main building where the pictures were being taken, and dragged her out of the door and into her car. Entitled Brad kept screaming and crying as her mother proceeded to drive her Brad all the way home. A two-hour ride, minus traffic, Entitled Brad was apparently still in her prom dress, and her hair was done really formally too. It must have been the first time she dressed up just to go home instead of dance with her Sweet Kid. On the other hand, Sweet Kid had the time of his life that night, as we all invited him to join our group. We all agreed that it was the best prom experience we could have ever asked for. I apologize for the length of this story. It needed to be this long in order to prove how vindictive this Entitled Brad was. Also, J1 and J2 were both close friends of Sweet Kid, and they would talk about the situation often. I have plenty of other stories about this Entitled Brad if you'd like to hear them. Just let me know in the comments and be sure to point out any spelling mistakes or grammar mistakes I might have in this, as I was using a Bluetooth keyboard that is rather finicky. If Mr. Reddit ends up reading this, please drop the URL to the video in the comments. Thanks again for reading. reading.