___ Things I Hate About You

As if there were only 10 things I hate about you. I have a long list. Forgive me that it is not in fourteen verse iambic pentameter with rhyming couplets.



I hate when you walk in the store with your child and loudly announce "OK, we are just going to look. We're not buying ANYTHING." You should not willingly enter my store if this is your motto.

I hate when you let your child suck on a toy that you don't buy for them.

I hate when your child puts something back in the wrong place because they don't take the time to put it back where they found it.

I hate when you tell your child to put something back in the wrong spot because "that's what they pay these people for."

I hate when your child throws up in my store.

I hate when, after your child throws up in my store, you say "Don't worry. It didn't get on any merchandise." Yes, that is true, but it's still disgusting.

I hate when you ask me to help you find something that you insist is not on the shelf where it should be and, ten minutes later, turns out to be on the shelf where it should be.

I hate when you spill beer in my store. Or icees. But beer smells worse so I hate that a little more.

I hate when I have to explain tax to your children.

I hate when I have to explain tax to you.

If there's one thing I hate more than 10 year old children with their faces painted like the Joker (seeing as how The Dark Knight is way beyond their maturity level), it's middle aged women wearing Twilight shirts.

I lied. I hate when said children with painted faces try on masks and since the masks are usually to high for them to reach, they must have an accomplice. I'm looking at you, Mom and Dad. Or possibly you, Grandma and Grandpa. Or over at you, Fun Aunt.

I hate when your children take money out of their sock to pay me.

I hate when you take money out of your bra to pay me.

I hate when you tell your child that that toy is too expensive while you pull your iPhone out of your Louis Vuitton purse.

I hate that your 10 year old child has a nicer cell phone than me.

I hate that you think I am personally responsible for the pricing of products, exhibits being closed and long lines at the gate.

I hate when you wait until you are at the counter with a line of people behind you to ask your child "Do you really need this?" They are a child; the answer is always yes.

I hate when you ask the price of something that has a price tag visibly on it.

I hate that you find the fact that I do not know the exact price, location, and quantity of every single product in the zoo ridiculous. How about you try telling me the location and price of everything in your house. With tax.



I think this is a good start to my list. It's just the tip of the iceberg.

Bluff

As I was working the cash register the other day, I witnessed a child of about 7 maybe 8 become very distraught over the fact that his parents would not buy him both of the stuffed animals that he so desired. His brother had accepted the fact that he could only get one and had contently placed it on the counter. However, the distraught boy stood in front of the counter staring longingly at both stuffed animals and pleaded with his parents to purchase both because he simply could not choose. Don't make him choose. The choice was clear to me: his brother was the one they should keep and the distraught boy should be put back where they found him. Of course, the parents attempted to lay down the law.

"You need to make a choice or else I'll put them both back," his dad told him.

This did not make the distraught boy choose any faster. In fact, it slowed him down because he became more distraught.

"You have to decide. The lady is waiting for us" his mom added.

I have grown accustomed to being called "the lady." I really was not fond of it when I was sixteen. I'm not sure what alternative I would suggest. Perhaps "The kind gentlewoman is waiting for us." I don't get it as bad as my brother who is often too called "the lady." [Random side note: On Mother's Day, a woman wished me a Happy Mother's Day. While, yes, I am a female who could possibly be a mother, I think I'm a little young looking. I wanted to reply with "No, I have not pushed a child out of my vagina yet" but instead I looked confusingly at the woman. I think I made my point though.]

So the distraught boy is being pressured by both his parents now. His dad has stated several times that he will put both of them back if the boy does not decided RIGHT NOW! Ok, sir, I know that you are trying to get your son to choose by giving him the choice of one or neither, but think this through. First of all, he doesn't need another choice right now. Second, even I can see through this bluff, of course, I am a professional but still. Let's look at the facts. There's no one behind you in line and I'm not going anywhere so you're not inconveniencing others. And you've given him the ultimatum about six times. If it had any power before, it's definitely lost it by now.

Finally, since the distraught boy did not choose, his father, proving that he was bluffing before, did a quick eeny-meeny-miny-moe (I mean a really quick one, not even a catch-a-tiger-by-the-toe) and chose one of the stuffed animals for his son. His son then chose to buy the other one. After the mother paid for it, her son ripped the tag off.

"This one's ripped" he said to his mother.

"Go get a different one then" she said to her son without even asking me first.

(Of course, I would have let him take another but it's at least nice for them to ask first.)

As his mother handed me the stuffed animal, I looked to see the rip that was, lo and behold, right where the tag used to be.

I hate your children.

In the beginning...

Once upon a time, I liked children. My cousins have the most adorable children in the world (there are statistics to prove it). I could hold a baby forever or play hide and seek with the older kids. I would think about how many children I wanted when I got older. That was then.

Five years ago, I began working at a zoo. At the zoo, there are screaming children. At the zoo, there are screaming parents. At the zoo, there are spoiled children. At the zoo, there are parents who spoil their children so much that they practically force expensive crap on them. At the zoo, there are people who have forgotten any manners they may have once been taught. At the zoo, there are parents who teach their children to be douchebags. This is now.

I still think my cousin's kids are adorable and if I'm feeling daring, I'll play a game with them. But ever since I started working at the zoo, I've thought that I have come to hate children. As I look back on all these life experiences, I come to one conclusion: I still like children; I just hate your children.

It's not the idea of children that I hate. I'm pro-child. It's the disasters that parents raise that I am opposed to. Moral of the story: I hate your children because of you. Let me tell you a few stories and I think you'll see my point.