Well, the well-meaning salesclerk got you to shut up, which I’m sure pleased everybody around you who had to endure your hissyfit, but I’m not impressed with the way your mother did it.
Ah yes the sweet lil’ ol’ southern lady. Whom everyone regards as a “dear old thing” but wouldn’t want to meet up with in a dark alley (or grocery store line) when she’s pissed. A force not to be reckoned with! :eek:
I really care what you think. :rolleyes:
The scene: A small department store, virtually deserted most of the year, but a seething madhouse at back-to-school time, as they carry uniforms for Catholic schools in two cities.
The place: The checkout line. Two registers at one station. Giant line formed to the rear, people split off to either side as a register came open.
The players: Mother Emperess of the World, with her poor little 2-year-old daughter.
This story is more about my concern for this poor little girl than teaching an asshole a lesson, but it did involve stepping up to the plate and getting involved when there was A Retail Situation.
The line was filled with mamas like myself buying uniforms. We all were accepting of this long line; that’s just the way it is. The store did bring in extra help, but the lines are gonna be long and there’s gonna be a wait. We all knew that, and were herding along pleasantly, lowing amongst ourselves.
Poor little 2-year-old girl is crying. As we stand she cries harder. And harder. And harder. Soon a full-scale meltdown is in progress. The child is inconsolable. A sobbing, hysterical mess.
We mothers all look at one another. We’ve been there before. Child creates scene. What we all would do is LEAVE. Our child’s needs are more important than getting the unforms today. Who knows, maybe this was her only chance … but NOTHING in my mind is more important than attending to your poor little innocent child, in the throes of a pure agonized meltdown.
I glance at my mother, who was with me, and several others standing nearby.
“I’m going to say something,” I announce.
I walk up the line, where she is about three from the head of.
“I would be glad to make your purchases for you, or hang on to your items,” I say pleasantly.
She looks at me blankly.
“So you can take your daughter out. She needs you.”
Another blank look. Then comprehension dawns. She gives me a frightful scowl. She says something snotty, which I don’t remember, but effectively, “I don’t need you telling me what to do.”
I give it one last appeal: “Please, go on and help your daughter. Can you give your purchases to someone else?”
She completely turns her back to me, and continue to ignore her poor little girl, whose agonized cries by this time have turned the whole herd of mothers into a seething mass of anxiety.
What can I do? I return to my place in the line, telling those nearby, “I tried! I tried to offer her help!” and everyone cluck-clucks.
About five mintues later, she DOES take the poor girl out.
I’m not sure if she was oblivious or what. But I just couldn’t let her treat her baby like that without saying something!
That sounds okay to me – you had a reason other than impatience or self-importance. You asked permission, which was granted. Courtesy and consideration on both sides.
Perhaps you should. You’ve heard the saying that “It takes a village to raise a child.” Your mother had apparently dropped the ball so the salesclerk did her duty, which was to maintain a peaceful and enjoyable shopping experience for the majority of her customers.
Heh.
I’ll point that out to her the next time we talk. 
I sympathize with MelC’s situation. I’ve been in a similar spot myself and done the same thing. But when I think about it, it really doesn’t make much sense. Why should that one person near the front of the line have the authority to speak on behalf of a kilometer of people to give MelC permission to cut in front of them?
Would-be Emperors and Empresses of the World should remember what happened to the Romanovs and the Bourbons when they pushed their subjects a little too far…
If there is any justice in the world, these people will have to spend a lifetime working retail for each time they make the cashier cry.
I agree with you zagloba. I’ve actually offered a conditional yes to people asking for cuts - the condition, of course, is approval from everyone else in line.
Hopefully, if the security people are doing their job, they’ll actually look at your boarding pass, notice the time of the flight, and will hurry you to the front if need be. I know that I don’t mind people cutting in front that way because I hope that if I’m in that situation that I can do it too.
I don’t believe that “a village” is capable of doing an instant psych eval on each and every child. As an employee, it’s not my place to tell any customer’s child how to behave, because I don’t know them. I don’t know if they’re habitually ill-behaved, or just having a bad day, or if their parents did something to set them off; I can’t decide what kind of guidance they need on the spot.
If children are disruptive, I ask their parents to quiet them, curb them, or remove them. But they’re not my children, so I don’t know the best way to do that. Their parents do. (Or if they don’t, then they need more help than I can give.)
When I get back online, I’m going to search for the thread where a total stranger slapped the poster’s sister for saying (in a perfectly reasonable tone) “I don’t like roast beef.”
I have snapped at children in the store. Ivylad and I were shopping for birthday presents when two little ones were fighting over a toy. One had it, the other wanted it. They were screaming and then the one that didn’t have it shoved the other child to the floor and grabbed the toy.
I told her to knock it off, helped the boy up off the floor, and asked, “Where’s your mommy?” She wasn’t in the aisle where we were, and he went around the corner and found his mom, telling her that his sister had knocked him down. Ivylad told the mother that the little girl had knocked her brother to the floor. The mother took the toy away from the girl and they walked away.
If I see children misbehaving with no parental unit in sight, and if it looks like things are going to escalate, then I will say something. Sometimes the shock of having a total stranger scold them is enough to make them shape up.
There were no security people that I could see and the line was very very long. Noone was going to look at my boarding pass until I got to the terminal entrance.
Had you been three instead of seven I might’ve agreed. Since you were seven and were obviously old enough to know better I disagree and were I your harried mother I’d’ve thanked the clerk for her support. Us parents sometimes need the support of the community to show our children that we are NOT making it up but that their behavior REALLY IS awful and socially unacceptable.
Almost daily.
But what makes it even funnier to me is ours reads: Push Harder
I’ve had people pulling with all their might turn to me and ask in an indignant tone, “Well? Are you going to buzz me out?”
Me: “Sure. BZZZZZT! Now push!” 
And here I assumed you must have matured since then.
The best part is that your mother put that salesclerk in her place by spending more money at her store. 
Yes, because slapping a child is exactly the same thing as telling a screaming 7 year old (who is screaming because they want something) to not treat their mother like that.
:rolleyes: x 2
Yes. But there’s saying something and then there’s saying something. Telling a kid to be quiet, stop fighting, whatever, is reasonable, because it only applies to the immediate situation. But in the situation my mom was talking about, the woman didn’t just say “Don’t talk to your mother like that”; she delivered, or started to, a protracted lecture in a shrill tone. That’s over the line; that’s making it personal.
I think I see what the point of convergence is here. If the salesclerk had left it at “Please stop it” or “Please quiet your child down or leave,” that would have been okay. But she didn’t leave it at that. And I would never take it upon myself to lecture someone I don’t know. Every day, I have to say “Please stay off the beds” or “No, don’t touch that”, but that’s all I say. It’s not my job to raise other people’s children; it’s my job to make sales and keep the store tidy. As such, I tell; I don’t lecture.
And seven is not that old. Plenty of seven y/os have their moments, and it doesn’t make them hellspawn. I don’t remember the incident, but it’s possible that I was tired. It’s possible that my mom and I had had an agreement that I would get something, and we just didn’t agree on what that something would be. It’s possible that I was unreasonable…but none of that is for the salesclerk to know. Beyond the immediate problem of my being loud, nothing else was her business.
I agree completely. It’s beyond rude to allow a child to misbehave in a place of business, even moreso if said child may possibly damage something by running about throwing a tantrum.