Yikes, someone needs to take away the parenting privileges from these people! I feel so bad for the kids who have to deal with these monsters! Content has been edited for clarity.
"It was the last day of school left before Thanksgiving break. All of the students were gathered into the courtyard, sitting at cheap plastic tables, while the principal was up at the front giving her annual Thanksgiving speech. Meanwhile, several classmates and I were standing at the serving tables. The kids were all impatient. Many of them were whispering and giggling, and some were drumming their fingers on the tables. All of them wanted food, but they weren’t allowed to get any until the speech was over. I barely heard Karen’s footsteps approaching over the noises of the students and the principal speaking. Karen snatched up one of the plates that had just been set out. I stood there, flustered, as she reached forward to open one of the containers of food. 'Karen!' My classmate exclaimed. 'What are you doing?'
Karen froze with the lid in her hand, mouth agape. She was stunned that someone would dare to challenge her. 'My darling Peter is so hungry, he needs his lunch,' Karen said in a sickly sweet tone, smirking slightly.
I replied, 'He can wait his turn, just like everyone else is.'
'Oh but he’s starving!' Karen began to lift the lid. 'Just let me grab him a bite to eat, Peter’s a growing boy!'
My classmate crossed her arms defensively, as I slowly backed away from the confrontation. My classmate replied, 'He can get his own food when he’s dismissed to get lunch.'
Karen shouted, 'But he’s hungry now! It won’t hurt anything if I get him food. If he has to wait until dismissal, that’ll take too long and he’ll be stuck in a line too!'
Karen glared at my classmate. When she opened her mouth to speak again, I expected the next words out of her mouth to be, 'I want to see the manager,' but she was interrupted by my dad approaching the table. 'Is there a problem?' He inquired, stepping up to Karen. She pouted. 'This girl won’t let me get any food for my poor Peter! My boy is so hungry!'
My dad sighed and rubbed a few fingers against his temples. 'And why can’t he wait?'
Karen screeched, 'BECAUSE Peter is hungry RIGHT NOW and he’s REALLY UPSET!'
My dad simply replied, 'Okay. Fine. Get him food, whatever.'
Karen heaped food onto a plate. She then stormed off triumphantly with her head held high, leaving the three of us to stand at the table, shaking our heads."
"So one day, this angry lady 'Hilda' shows up to my martial arts studio 20 minutes late for the children’s lesson, and she loudly demands her crying granddaughter 'Violet' get into class. She was shouting and being abusive towards Alice, who was the receptionist. Hilda said they made a long trip up here and Violet needed to join the class immediately. Alice tried to stop Hilda from walking into class, and I tried to comfort Violet, who was terrified and having a panic attack over in the corner. Violet told me how she was afraid to be at the class alone without friends. I told her that during the next class, I would introduce her to some nice students who would make her feel welcome. Violet seemed satisfied with that, and I even made her laugh a bit. Unfortunately, Hilda was still making a huge scene, screaming at Violet to get over there into the class and demanding to speak to the teacher. Violet hid behind me. Now Alice was trying very hard not to disturb the very busy martial arts teacher, but all of New York can hear this.
So the teacher told the class to do some pad work. He comes out of class and smiles menacingly. “I’m the teacher,” he says in the most dangerously polite tone that made Alice gulp. He was smiling, but his eyes were narrowed with anger. His smile was like a crocodile who just saw a Karen enter the pond. Snack time. His tone was terrifyingly authoritative and calm. Hilda quickly realizes that this was not someone she could push around. The teacher told her, 'No. I do not allow lateness beyond five minutes. Anyone who is not on the line in their gear when I say line up is punished for it, and can ask permission to join class after completing their punishment. After those five minutes, the class is closed. Twenty minutes is not acceptable ever.'
Hilda pleaded with the teacher to make an exception, but the teacher boldly stated, 'No. As for new students, I need them to be here fifteen minutes before class, so they can speak to me, discuss their needs, and settle in. If you want to speak to me, you should have made an appointment. Now, your granddaughter may watch if she wishes, but she will not be attending this class. She can start next class, and she will be here early,' he said in the same tone, smiling that same scary smile that meant he could crush her like a bug. He nodded to Alice and me, who know him well enough to know what he wants. Hilda wisely said they would get lunch instead. The teacher didn’t even skip a beat and returned to class. His smile now was like a satisfied crocodile who just consumed entitlement."
"This must have been around twenty years ago now, so I'm a little hazy around the edges. It was at a showjumping qualifier held a few kilometers from the town where I lived, where horses and their riders gained points that went towards grading for serious competitions, which would be held worldwide later in the year. I had been given a stall to exhibit my drawings in the hope of picking up commissions, and boy did I overhear some very interesting conversations! The best conversation had to be the mother of a young female rider, who believed her daughter was being unfairly overlooked. She found one of the judges, barged right up into his personal space, and exclaimed, 'I would like know know why you DIDN'T PLACE MY DAUGHTER?!'
This guy was mortified, but he was penned in with no clear escape route. With as much diplomacy as he could muster, he mentioned something about how her daughter had not spent enough time riding. The mother then exclaimed, 'BUT SHE RIDES ALL THE TIME! SHE WINS EVERYTHING! SHE HAS TERRIFIC HORSES! Now what is it going to take for you to give her a winning title?!'
I was completely dumbfounded. This woman actually believed that she could flirt with the judge to get him to cave in! He backed away fro this mom and replied, She doesn't know her horses, so she can't shine until she knows them better!'
That judge managed to find a place to scurry off to, and the mom looked directly at me, asking me what on earth this guy was talking about. I seriously pitied the poor daughter of this clueless woman, who simply thought that you could succeed by throwing enough money at it! I would have hated to see how this mother acted outside of the competitions!"
"I was a particular boy’s English teacher for three years. I taught him in 10th grade, and he failed because he didn't do his work and refused to show up for extra help. I called his mom, who said he just had to live with the consequences of his actions. The next year was more of the same, and another failing grade. His senior year, he was in another English class and had me for an online credit recovery class. He had a lot of credit to catch up on because he had failed almost all of his academic classes for years. My job was to supervise his work, answer his questions, and grade the English and history assignments. Another teacher in the room did this for his math and science classes. He was, at that point, signed up for the Marines, with the understanding that he would go to basic training as soon as he graduated. He was enrolled in as much online recovery as he could get, plus regular classes. The problem was, he constantly ditched the credit recovery period and made very, very slow progress through the courses, because he wouldn’t work on them. I called his mom, who said her usual, 'He has to deal with the consequences.' I called his Marine recruiter, who tried to motivate him. The kid promised to do the work, but he still didn’t. About three weeks before graduation, when it was clear there was no way the kid was going to graduate, his mom finally freaked out. She harassed me constantly about 'not grading' her son’s work, when she could log on and clearly see that he wasn’t doing it.
A week later, suddenly tons of work started getting submitted from home at night, although her son was never in class. It was so obvious she (and probably several other people) was doing it all for him. She even came into my classroom during my first period 9th grade class and refused to let me teach my students, while she kept yelling at me to hurry up and grade all the work that had been submitted the night before in his name. He was also supposed to be doing work with BYU online credit recovery, but that wasn't part of my class. That, too, magically started to get done. Years of classes in multiple subjects being accomplished in a matter of two weeks. Then came the really big hang-up: It was the day before the graduation ceremony, and BYU required a portfolio that needed four weeks for the BYU staff to grade. The kid (actually his mom) had just submitted it. It wouldn’t be done in time for graduation. Mom literally got on a plane the morning of graduation and flew to Salt Lake City to harass the people at BYU to grade the portfolio. She actually thought she could get them to grade it and provide a transcript in time for graduation at 4:00 that afternoon! She didn’t get it all in time for the ceremony, but she somehow got it in about 48 hours. He got his diploma, with almost no skills, and went into the Marines. I do wonder how that went in the long run."
"Let's talk about my dad. He expects everything his way and was spoiled rotten by his own parents. That entitled attitude carried over into his adult life. When I was a kid, one of the most common punishments was missing out on Sunday visits and dinner with my grandparents. When I was about nine or ten, my punishments for doing something bad was staying home from seeing my grandparents. My mom and dad would take turns staying with me then. It was my dad's turn this time, and we were talking over supper. My dad asked me what was for supper, because apparently I was in charge of making it tonight! I tried to protest, telling my dad how Mom wouldn't even let me touch the stove, so I didn't know how to cook. Well, I knew how to make toast, cereal, peanut butter sandwiches, and heat up canned food in the microwave. But my dad didn't want any of that. He wanted something else.
I told him that I thought I knew how to make spaghetti and sauce, which my dad agreed to with a frustrated sigh. The supper for us was overcooked pasta and Ragu sauce with a single bay leaf for decoration. It was terrible. At one point, my dad told me. 'Your mother needs to teach you how to cook better. You're a girl, so you need to cook better than this!'
I had to use a chair to be able to even see into the pot. He got huffy about having to even carry the pot of water and open the stuck lid on the jar of sauce. What a spoiled monster!"
"When i was in middle school, about age 14, there was that one kid that nobody liked. Both he and his family were extremely prejudiced and homophobic. That family was known to cause a huge scene every time this kid got into trouble at school. Let's call this kid Bruce. My school used to organize a festival at the end of each school year. It was great fun, and they even had a huge trampoline, an obstacle course, an archery instructor, and loads of different activities each year. There was loads of food as well. My family lived nearby, so I got to go there early. I just sat around playing games on my phone, waiting for my friends who lived further away to arrive. While sitting on a staircase, I saw Bruce arrive with his mother. I got up and left, because I can't stand them. Both Bruce and his mother cannot put together one sentence without using some kind of slur. So I started walking away to get inside the school building, when I noticed they were walking behind me. So I started walking more quickly, and I noticed that they started running to get me. I stopped and asked what they were doing. Bruce's mom said how Bruce wanted to hang out with me, to which I replied, 'Ma'am, your son and I don't get along, and I don't want to hang out with him. Could you leave me alone?'
His mother surprisingly kept her cool and said in a very soft and calm voice, 'Oh nonsense! You two will be good friends! I'll go now and let you two chat.'
I was beyond confused at that point, so I just sat down and pulled out my phone. Bruce slapped the phone out of my hand and demanded I do what he wanted. He then tried to grab me. I was shocked, but also mad as heck, so I tripped him and put him in an arm bar. He started screaming bloody murder, and both his mother and the headmistress rushed over. Long story short, he tried to say that I hit him without reason, but fortunately another kid saw what happened. Bruce had a history of violent outbursts, so the headmistress believed us. Bruce was expelled, and his mother was banned from school grounds. She went completely insane and started swearing at everyone, and she even tried to slap me! Everything went back to normal after that, and I enjoyed the rest of the festival."
"My parent was entitled from the perspective of their feeling proud of my achievements. They themselves never asked me to do anything for them or made them feel important for themselves. The craziest experience was what happened when I was in the eighth grade. Chinese middle schools have a habit of holding a parent-teacher meeting after each midterm examination. The midterm marks for every subject would be ranked, and there was a total rank for all subjects combined finally. It means we had a rank from No. 1 to No. 60 in English, Chinese, Math, Physics and Chemistry separately. And we also had a final rank after considering all subjects. Actually, that midterm mark and ranking could only be disclosed in that meeting. I was very worried. It was all very official and intimidating. My father took the meeting and I was waiting at home. I acted like an ant on a hot pan, walking around the room continuously. After about four hours since he left home, he appeared in our yard, with a brilliant smile on his face. I knew I was alright now. As soon as he entered the door, he screamed to me excitedly, 'You got English No.1 and final total rank No.1!'
'Yes, so what?' I asked myself secretly. And he continued saying in a more exhilarating tone, 'Your teacher let me stand in front of the blackboard and tell those parents my experiences about how to nurture such an excellent student!'
Wow, my father was really crazy, since he was furious whenever I got bad marks. The difference in his behaviors were huge and unbelievable. He asked me to do whatever he wanted me to do with no arguments at all in studies. He thought I had to revolve around them to make him and my mom happy and proud, since they were the ones who gave me life, in his specific words. My childhood, my spare time, and my interests were all sacrificed to make their vanities get satisfied. My parents were really crazy."
"Picture this: a children's Christmas costume party for a local gym. My husband had gifted me a membership so I could use the pool. The gym also provided childcare to our three toddlers. We weren't the most financially well-off, so we had to make the costumes for our kids. We tried to make quality-looking 'Thomas The Tank Engine' costumes, and we looked everywhere for large cardboard boxes, paint, and cardboard tubes for the funnels. My husband and I worked on these costumes for many nights after the kids were in bed. Out of the approximately eighty youngsters at the event, only three of them were in home made cardboard costumes. This gym was located in a much wealthier neighborhood than we could afford.
The mothers turned their noses up at me as I walked in. They struggled to mask their contempt until all three of my boys were named co-winners for the boys' costume contest. All the other kids wanted to climb in the 'trains' and play together. These moms weren't able to keep their kids happy or quiet, so that was when the demands started. The moms wanted my kids to get out of their costumes so other kids could try them on. One woman even wanted me to name a price to hand over the costumes, but that would have broken my kids' hearts, so I didn't agree to one. Because these moms appeared to have more wealth that we did, we were supposed to give them what they wanted? They had way too much money to spend on the perfect costumes, but their kids really just wanted cardboard boxes. I felt so much better than those witches that day."
"At my work, we have this thing called 'inverse seniority' when it comes to layoffs. We were all laid off back in March like most people because of lockdown. In Canada, we’ve done well so far with it, and so we started reopening around May. We all got a call at the beginning of May, but we could opt to stay home if we wanted to instead of going back in. I decided to stay home, and my seniority is high enough that I was able to get it. One of my co-workers, who has much lower seniority, was mandated to go back in because she didn’t have the seniority to stay home, and most people in the company said yes to staying home, so it was the lower seniority people who were mandated back in. She sent a text to me going off because she didn’t think it was fair that people like her had to go in, but I didn’t since I’m single and alone. She said that I should go in for her since she doesn’t have childcare. She does. She has two teenagers at home, and a husband to look after the youngest. Her husband wasn’t called back into work, so she was just using her youngest kid as an excuse.
I opted to go back at the end of July, but from May on, once in a while I would get a text from her asking when I was going back to work, so she could go off again. I finally blocked her because I got fed up and nearly lost it on her, so it was easier to block her in the first place. She had always been like that though. She was like that whenever childless people wanted a holiday or needed a day off. A couple of years ago, I added some extra days to the Easter long weekend for myself, since they were available and I wanted to visit with my nephew, and I did it in advance. She flipped out on me for taking those days because she has kids and she needed to get their Easter goodies, but she already bought them since she told us all about it at work and showed us pictures. Oh, and she did end up getting those days off, it was available for her as well. She had just assumed she wouldn’t get them because of me. I’m not the only one like that. She has gone off on people who have kids who are out of the house, and she asked them why they want to go home so bad when their kids are no longer at home. She doesn’t seem to get that people just want to be at home because they want time away from work. We all get tired and want to be at home to relax. She seems to think childless people exist to pick up the slack for families. I’m just there for the money, and if I want a day off, I deserve that day off just as much as she does! There are several of my co-workers who feel that way though, so she isn’t the only one. With all the extra hours we get mandated or the extra days, everyone gets frustrated, but for some reason, if a single childless person complains, we’ll get the response, 'What are you complaining about? You have nothing to go home to!'
It is funny because my mother was a single mother, and she never acted like that. She never expected anyone to pick up the slack for her, and I asked her if she would expect a single childless person to go into work for her during such a time, and she said absolutely not."
"My first story happened when my paternal grandparents were traveling and stopped at a Holiday Inn Express for a night. It didn't end well for them. My very entitled grandma thinks there should be two reading lamps in every room, so she didn't have to share one. They ask the front desk for another lamp, since according to them there are plenty of empty rooms. The manager gets involved, tells them they cannot do this because someone else might need it. Then my grandfather gets involved, making pretty much the same demand as his entitled wife. Needless to say, they had to look for another place to stay that night, since they got kicked out of the hotel for being so obnoxious.
The next one involves me as well as three of my cousins. We had gone out to dinner in New York City and were back at our hotel, playing cards. We decide to play 'Go Fish'. Well about midway through our game, a lady walking through the hotel lobby sees us and tries to strike up a conversation. So she asks what we’re playing, in an ordinary, friendly tone. I tell her we’re playing Go Fish, but I don’t think she heard me over my crazy cousins. So she asks what we’re playing again. My cousin looks at her with a look that could kill, and tells her in the most annoying patronizing way possible that we’re playing Go Fish. Well needless to say, the woman walked off in a hurry.
And then only a couple of months ago, my aunt and uncle were coming to visit. They took me and my cousins to a restaurant, which was rather crowded since it was a Friday night. The hostess tells us that we will most likely have to wait about fifteen minutes, which I honestly didn't think was too bad. My aunt looks the poor hostess dead in the eye and demands to know if she is really serious. Obviously it scared the hostess into action, since we got a table in the next thirty seconds. I was astonished that she actually got her way. Entitlement really does run in my family."