Screaming kids in Home Depot

The BBQ Pit
41

A wise man who was bitten by a radioactive spider once said:

“With great power comes great responsibility.”

The ability to produce children from your loins and shape them into responsible adults is a great power. If you are unprepared for the great responsibility, you should not use this power.

Children are unruly because they’re children. They are doing what children do. And if you let them, they’ll do anything. Which is why more parents need to take responsibility for their children. And recognize that it is not everyone else’s responsibility to keep the child from harm.

But then again, I’m one of those selfish, immature adults who has chosen not to have children, so I supposedly have no right to have an opinion on them.

42

How am I doin’? Not as well as you might think…

While my company can bill me against a retainer for that ridiculous rate, I only see a bit more than a quarter of that show up in my base compensation. But that’s another Pit thread for another time.

Also, not all hours are client billable, like ferinstance when I’m posting to the SDMB instead of actually working. :wink:

43

note to self: remember underwear

44

::cracks his knuckles::

Alright kids, I gotta jump in here. . .

I used to work at a Home Depot, back when I was in college in Arizona. I worked in the paint department, which I affectionately called the “Ground Zero” of the store (lotsa chemicals and HAZMAT stuff). I had a counter, and a little enclosed area that I could mix, hold, and generally handle paint, away from the customers. The Evil Orange Empire* was kind enough to mark on the floor where to put stuff, and sort of hazard stripe off the retail section from the work area, which led to the generally assumed “zoning” of customers’ and workers’ available space. Adults tended to adhere to the restriction, but the occasional kid would wander back, and I’d give 'em a paint stick, tell them to “Give this to your Mom and Dad”, and quietly and happily divert them from my industrial area. I didn’t like customers of any age back there, because of the big Tint-O-Matic squirt machines, our single and 5 gallon paint mixers, a few sprayers, etc. Just not fun stuff to mess around with if you don’t know what you are doing. . . It was my industrial area, and I was happy to work there.

I think the EOE was a great place for kids – under supervision. Obviously, there are tools and such that kids can look at, and Mom and Pop can show them how to use them. Hell, I grew up in a Channel’s store (east coast DIY store, now bankrupt :mad: ) and Poppa Trip showed me the ropes of home handiwork. Yes, kids scream. Yes, kids piddle on the floor. Yes, they are kids, and life goes on. . .

Thus being said, I ask you parents two questions:

  1. Folks, would you allow your children to run around and play in industrial areas on a regular basis? Would you allow your unsupervised child to play tag in a glassmaking warehouse, or maybe an open flightline? Perhaps a sheet metal shop, brim full of concertina wire-like fragments and splinters?

  2. Do you particularly want your child to experiment with recognized nasty materials such as Denatured alcohol (it’ll get you really good and drunk, but you won’t live to talk about it), laquer thinner, acetone, or the beloved Methyl Ethyl Keytone (the plutonium of the paint world)? Perhaps if your little one dabbed his hands into a nail bin and started to taste galvanized pleasure?

If you answered yes to either of these things, then I award you a hearty slap upside the head. Take some Goddamned responsibility and watch your own. I firmly believe that this is a major problem with this country today – Parents feel they are not responsible for parenting anymore.

Kids will be kids: inquisitive, antsy, curious, but adults never cease to amaze me at the stupidity they exhibit. I just thank God that Momma Trip taught me not to open a box of wallpaper paste and eat it. . . Because the next time your child starts playing in my office with JP-8 jet fuel and your cigarette lighter, I’ll be donning my kevlar and waiting under my desk for your childs’ crispy and sparkly demise, because you are too busy looking through your damn Ralph Lauren colors so you can get that oh-so Martha Stewart look in your Florida room, to impress your local circle of yuppies.

Tripler
THespos, I remember Pergament. Wow, the memories!

*EOE: Evil Orange Empire - My pet name for Home Despot (not a typo)

45

I’ll just chime in here with my own pet peeve about something quite similar; at family gatherings and such where children are present, it is not the responsibility of every adult present to look after your children. You brought 'em, you keep them from falling down the stairs, pulling the cat’s tail, and getting into your host’s non-child friendly stuff. If I see a child in danger, I will help them. But it really pisses me off when mom comes in, plunks her ass down, and doesn’t lift a finger after that to keep her sugared-up brats in check. I’m here to talk with my relatives and friends, not be part of the babysitting team.

(Tripler, did you give them a paint-dipped paint stick? Cause that would have been cool…)

46

Would that be the Taking Children Seriously mailing list?

47

I was usually cool to the kids, unless they pissed me off. If that was the case, they went for a 4 minute spin-cycle ride in the 5 gallon shaker. . … :mad:

Tripler
Or I shot their ass with an upside-down can of compressed liquid air. :eek:

48

The number of stupid parents never fails to amaze me.

I always took my kids to the hardware store when they were little. They NEVER walked along side of me for the simple fact that some things are just too tempting for little hands. They were placed in the cart and that is where they had to stay until we left the store. It was just the way things were done and they accepted it.

Once they got older (5 or 6), I would let them walk along the side of me but they knew that as soon as they even looked like they were going to touch something or get into trouble, I would grab hold of their ear and twist. It is a lot less noticable to the “never-spank-your-child” vigilantes and doesn’t draw blood or leave bruises (evidence ;)). They learn awfully quick that way.

Interestingly enough, my youngest son has one ear longer than the other.
Kidding.

Yeah, your kids are adorable but for Godsake be a parent!

49

Almost forgot –

Hey-ya Cranky, I feel for ya girl! I don’t know if I could live through another two year old. They are spawns of Satan!!! Each and every one of them!!!

Valium, take lots of Valium. Then remind yourself that he will one day be a teenager!!! :eek:

50

First of all, I do agree with the last part of your statement. The key is the supervision.

I am going to offer advice to the first statment.
Because of my terminaly weird schedule, me and She Who Must Be Obeyed (my wife) have manaaged to buy several rooms of furniture without ever going to the store together. She (or I) would shop without the other. See something we liked and make note of the model, color, style, etc. and tell the other where to see it. The other would then go at their leasure and check it out. If we both liked it, then one of us would go and order/purchase it. (Because of our different sizes, we had differing ideas of what constituted a comfortable piece of furniture.) We were able to buy two sofas, two chairs, a dining room set, and a bed this way. It does take longer and is a cumbersome way to buy stuff. But, it did let us get the job done and use what little time we have together in more productive ways. (Like using the bed, the sofa, chairs, and dining room set. :D)

51

Grrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrr… :mad:

While stationed in Maine I got to go to the command picnic which featured, among other amusements, horse shoes. I spent 45 minutes watching knee biters run back and forth across the pitch, talking about how “When I was a kid, if any of us did that our parents would grab us by the ear, give us a swat across the butt, and tell us not to EVER do that again!!”

Then some rugrat got clocked in the head by a flying horse shoe, and that was the end of the game.

What. The. Fuck.

Ending a game cos some parent was too fucking busy to mind the kid.

What bullshit.

So, no. I know there are parents out there who have kids with special needs, but I’m sorry - children are not my responsiblity.