rSlash - r/Entitledparents "GIVE ME YOUR BREAST MILK!"

Episode Date: June 7, 2021

r/Entitledparents OP works at a daycare, and one of the moms gives her a few bottles of her milk to feed her young child. An entitled mother sees OP with the bottles of milk and confronts her, demanding that OP give the milk to her son. OP is confused because the entitled mother's son is 5, and why would she want another woman's milk? Still, the entitled mother is adamant and demands that the milk be shared because it's important to be fair. WTF? Learn more about your ad choices. Visit megaphone.fm/adchoices

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Please play responsible. Welcome to R-Slash, a podcast where we read the best post from across Reddit. Today's subreddit is R-Slash entitled Parents, where a woman demands to have another woman's breast milk. Our next Reddit post is from Snowman. I'm a 27- 27 year old woman who's a flight attendant for a major US airline. A few years ago, at a very busy US airport, I was in line to get some food. My luggage is almost an extension of my hand when I'm working. I carry a shoulder bag, and I also have a large rolling suitcase with a smaller size toe that hooks to the larger bag so it extends a bit behind me.

As I'm waiting in line, I feel my bag move. Afraid that I meant someone's way, I pulled my bag closer and turned around to see a toddler laying on my two bags. Three separate times, I told the toddlers parents that they need to come get them because he could get hurt. They did take them off briefly, but within a second or two he would be back on top of my luggage. Every time I tried to pull the bag away, the toddler would just think that it's a game.

The parents just ignored me giving them dirty looks. The third time I specifically said, this is a busy airport and if I move quickly for some reason he's going to get hurt. The mom gave us snarky reply. I know how to watch my kid. Once I reach the register I place my order. As I finish, my airline calls me regarding a trip change. I know how to watch my kid. Once I reach the register, I place my order. As I finish, my airline calls me regarding a trip change.

I need to quickly get to a place where I can write down notes. Without even thinking about it, I rolled back my bag quickly, which meant that the toddler, who was still playing with my luggage, was bald backwards, and he hit his head on the hard tile floor. Cue the kid and his parents flipping out. They were yelling that I was guilty of child abuse and demanded to see my work IDs so they could report me to my employer, which is something that I'm neither obligated nor willing to do.

Airport police arrived just as my food is ready. I have a 30 second conversation with security during which I explain and identify another customer who was already offering to be a witness on my behalf. I told security that I have to go catch a flight and the cop said, I know where to find you if I need you, but don't worry about it, just go work your flight. I think the cop and start to walk away, and the kid's grandfather attempts to run past the cop to stop me from leaving. The cop puts his hand on the grandfather's shoulders to stop him, and the grandfather shoves the cop with all of his strength and lunges at me. I feel just a brief tug on the shoulder strap of my bag, and I turn around to see the

other airport cop slamming grandpa to the ground. Grandpa pled out, so I never had to testify in court. But all of this could have been avoided if they had just watched their freaking kid. Alright, so throwing down against the cop is just normally stupid, but throwing down against the cop in an airport is extra large stupid. I wouldn't be surprised if Grandpa just found himself on the no-fly list. Our next reddit post is from Read Unturtles. This story is something that happened to me and my fiancé fairly recently.

We recently bought our first home together in a nice quiet area in the north of England. If you're unfamiliar with the British Postal System, basically, we get letters delivered through flaps in our front doors, and parcels that are too large for that are handed to us if we're in the house, and if we're not, then they're just given to a neighbor so we can collect them later. If no one's there to collect the parcel, then it gets taken back to the depot where they just said, or they're returned to the sender. So last month we were settling into our new home, and my fiance bought some clothes online

for a local gym that he wanted to join. I was in the house on the day of the delivery, and I was expecting the package since I'm working from home. When the postal worker arrived, she had two packages instead of one. I thought nothing of it at first, and I put the packages in my garage for my fiance to open later. When my fiance came home from work, he rushed to open his delivery like it was Christmas, and his surprise, the second parcel wasn't for him. The package had our address on it, but it didn't have a name. We were both confused at this point, and we thought that maybe it's for one of our neighbors and they would come collect

it later. Time goes by, and they would come collect it later. Time goes by and eventually we get a note through the door that reads, Hey, my son got his parcel delivered to your house. Call me at such and such numbers so I can come collect it. We thought that it was our neighbor, so my fiance called the number for a woman to answer and she said that she would be over shortly to collect the parcel. It turned out that she lived across town and her son chose our address to have it delivered to collect the parcel. It turned out that she lived across town, and her son chose R-Adress to have it delivered to for some reason.

We thought this was weird, but we assumed that it must have been a mistake. Anyways, we thought that was the end of it, but the next day I got two more parcels for this lady's son. Again, the packages had R-Adress, but no name. At this point, I'm thinking there was a mistake on their part, or possibly they used to live here. Again, they come to collect their parcels, and everything's fine. But guess what? More and more parcels over the next week arrive for this lady's son. At this point, I'm starting to get really annoyed by this, because even though I do work from home,

I can't constantly leave meetings to collect parcels that aren't even ours. So the next day when the parcel lady comes, I just tell her sorry, this isn't for me, and you'll have to return it to send her. So off she goes and takes the parcel back to the depot. A few hours later I hear a knock at the door, and guess who? It's the entitled mother standing there with her son. I hate confrontations, so my memory of the conversation is a bit hazy. But she was furious that we denied her parcel, and now she has to wait for it to be re-delivered.

I told her that she has to get her parcel delivered to her own home, and that it's weird and inconvenient for me. Like, I don't even know this lady. She then tells me that it's easier for her to get them delivered to my home, because I'm always in, and she isn't. Now maybe this would possibly be okay if I was friends with her and she asked, but she lives across town and chose a random address for her parcels. Anyway, she leaves, and I think that this might be the end of the story, but parcels keep

showing up. And over the next week, I politely tell the parcel lady that these aren't mine and returned them to send her. After a week of doing this, I stopped getting the parcels, so I guess she got the message. How entitled must this woman have been to think that it's okay to have parcels delivered to a random person's home that she doesn't even know because it's easier for her? I really hope that she didn't start doing this to someone else after me. But it was satisfying to know that she would have to wait twice as long for her parcels because they were returned to send her. Yeah OP, I don't know if this was entitlement. I think this was probably

illegal activity. Think about it OP. Suppose you were transporting something illicit like drugs. Would she want to have illegal drugs delivered to her home address? Of course not. So instead, you find some random, friendly stranger, deliver your drugs there, then go pick them up. That way, if the cops ever figure out that you're transporting drugs, then the stranger that you're delivering the drugs to gets in trouble instead of you. What's more, OP? How does she always know that you work from home? Super sketchy. And on top of all this OP, if she can drive her cross-town to visit your house, then what's stopping her from driving her cross-town to go to the depot instead? Something fishy is going on here, and you definitely made the right call to start denying

those packages. Actually, the more that I think about it, I don't think I've ever been able to order something from a website and not been able to give them a name. You always have to give them a name. That makes me think that the Cinder is somehow involved in this scheme too. Yeah, OP, I don't know what's in those parcels, but I would not want them in my house. After review, the call on the ice is a whole new season of NHL action with Skip. Every order earns you a shot at winning one of over 200,000 prizes, including NHL Shop.ca

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American Express, don't do business without it. Terms and conditions apply as at mx.ca slash business platinum. Our next credit post is from Cajun Rabbit. So I'm a store manager for a large chain pizza place that charges a bit more than the competition, but makes an arguably better product. We try to always believe the customer and make them happy if something's wrong. We have a loyal base of regulars who order often, as well as a lot of other business from random people in several nearby hotels. So it's Friday night, and an entitled Karen calls in an order for a very simple pepperoni in jalapeno pizza. The driver delivers it, and 30 minutes later,

I'm asked to talk to an angry customer on the phone. Is this the manager? I've been on hold for over half an hour. That's impossible, but okay. I say, I'm very sorry about that, ma'am. What seems to be the problem? I met the hotel and your driver was so rude, and my pizza is burnt.

I'm sorry to hear the pizza was enough to our quality standards. Can I make you another and send it out? No, don't bother. You've already ruined my kids dinner and they're crying now, so instead give me a refund. That is a red flag. I said, okay ma'am, I'll credit your number and the next time you order it will be free. I'm very sorry again.

Have a good night. Whatever. And she hangs up. I credit the number and think whatever. That was the end of it. So the very next night on Saturday, one of the employees says, Hey, this lady on the phone wants to speak to a manager. I say, Hello, thank you for holding. This is OP speaking. Are you an R word? How long does it take to answer the f-ing phone? I'm sorry. What? You were only on hold for a moment when my employee got me. Don't you f-ing tell me how long I've been on hold?

I know how long I've been on hold for. I'm just groaning inwardly already. A fun customer. Yippee. I say, I'm sorry, ma'am. How can I assist you? My pizza is burnt and you have the rudest, effing delivery driver. They practically threw the pizza in my face!

Suddenly, a light bulb goes off in my head. I've dealt with this lady before. I'm sorry to hear that, and I'll definitely talk to the driver about it. Can I make you a new pizza to replace the one that you said is burnt? No, just refund my order. Okay, ma'am, to ensure that our quality standards are being met, can I have a driver come pick up the burnt pizza so I can talk to my production staff about it? No, we ate it.

You ate the burnt pizza? Yes, we were starving and couldn't wait for a remake, so just give me a refund. A refund for the pizza that you ate? It was effing burnt! Let me speak to the manager. I am the manager. Then I want to speak to your manager. You're being so rude and disrespectful. It's because I'm black, isn't it? You effing race is piece of garbage. Man, one stop-cussing, two. I have no idea what you look like or

who you are, but that's right, you B-word butthole, you don't know who the F I am, but you're about to find out. She then hung up before I could say anything else. Considering that she was extra, I let my district manager know about a possible complaint on my behavior and what actually went down. As soon as I got off the phone with my district manager, I heard yelling in the lobby. Where is that B-word butthole racist manager? I step around the partition, and I see a cow of a woman wearing tacky bright green and

orange clothes with red shoes. Can I help you? In my head, I'm already done with this effort because I know who it is. Are you gonna start some trash now? Give me a freaking refund for my burnt pizza, and I went gas money for driving over here. You didn't pay for the pizza, it was free, and we don't reimburse gas for people driving to the store. You think this is an effing joke?

You're going to give me my effing money or it's gonna go off in this B word. Get out. What the F did you just say to me? Get out of my store. You can't tell me to leave. This is a public space. No ma'am. This is a private business and you're no longer allowed in here. I'm refusing to serve you. Leave now or I'll be forced to call the police. F you. F you. She continued to yell and curse until the police arrived. I had to hear every sing-song version of FU for about 5 minutes. The cops asked me if I wanted Truss Passer,

and I say yeah, she is not welcome here anymore. The cops take her outside, and I could overhear their conversation. The cops said, okay, so you're now being Truss Passed. Don't come back here and don't linger in the parking lot or you'll be arrested. This also applies to every single other pizza chain, not just this one. The defeated look on her face when he said that almost made all of this worthwhile. Not the most epic ending I know, but what can you do? So, kind of sort of something similar happened to me, but I handled it completely differently. I was over at a buddies place when we ordered pizza from Domino's. But when the pizza's delivery guy came, he was like, hey, so uh, we burned your pizza. Sorry about that, man. And the guy just handed me my pizza with

nothing more than a sorry bro. And I was just standing there confused, so I opened the box, and sure enough, the pizza was completely charred. I was like, I don't get it, you guys know that the pizza is burned, so why do you deliver it? Why not just make a new one? The delivery guy was like, oh, I just turned around and left. I mean, yeah, I kind of get it, it's not the delivery guys fault exactly, it's whoever made the pizza and then sent it out, he's just driving it.

But still, that really pissed me off, so I went online, filed a complaint with Domino's, and they gave me a full refund. It's not a particular juicy story or anything. It just always bugged me. If you know that pizza's burnt, why would you send it out? If I were a manager at that pizza store, I feel like the logical thing to do would be to call that customer and be like, hey, listen, we burnt your pizza. Totally our fault were really sorry. If you like, we can send you out the pizza now, but it's kind of burnt. Alternatively, if you want to wait longer, we can make you a fresh pizza, but it's going to take another 30, 45 minutes.

Either way, whatever you decide the pizza is completely on us because we messed up here. But no, some dude would just like, wow, we really burned the hell out of that pizza. Eh, whatever, let's just send it out. Our next word it poses from Amber Ashulon. So I work in a daycare, so I have many stories where I have to deal with entitled parents. Here we have what I like to call the breast milk and titled mother. Like most daycares, the daycare where I work allows mothers to bring in their own breast milk and we have a fridge to store it in. Every container has to be labeled so we know who's who's. One day during drop-off, one of the mothers have been giving me bottles

of her breast milk for her baby. As I'm hitting to the kitchen, I hear the sound of a second mother shouting my name. This entitled Mother was widely known by the staff and was widely disliked. The entitled mother comes up to me, and she starts off the conversation by complaining about the location of our school field trip for the older kids. The kids voted where they wanted to go, the park, and for some reason, she wasn't happy about that. I told her that the kids picked where they wanted to go, so we can't change it. She wasn't happy about that and huffed. Until she noticed the bag of breast milk bottles in my hand. And this is where this story becomes insane. What in the bag? Oh, this is just breast milk that one of the other mothers left.

I was just about to put it in the fridge. That's a lot of breast milk for just one baby. Yeah, the other mother wants to make sure we keep a good stock here so we always have some. So you must have plenty then. I guess. Then you can give me some for my son. You mean your son, Billy? Yes. But he's five.

I read online that feeding your kids breast milk is good for them. Even older kids. I'm sorry, but these bottles belong to another mother. They're not mine to give away. Oh, I'm sure she wouldn't mind. You said that she has plenty. She likely wouldn't even notice. That is not going to happen in titled mother. Now, please, just sign your son in and go.

This is ridiculous. They shouldn't be able to bring that stuff in if they're not going to share it with the other kids. And then she just walked out before I could reply. Alright, so when someone says that when you bring in a snack to class, you have to make sure that you bring it up for everyone to share. I think that we can safely exclude breast milk from that list. I mean, come on lady, do you really need someone to sit you down and say, listen, you're

not entitled to other people's bodily fluids. Stop! You're being creepy. Also, down in the comments, I have to read this reply from Acer. I can't even. I mean, I can't even, can't even. I think my reply would have been, Did you just have a brain tumor for breakfast? That was our Sleshing title parents, and if you like this content, you can unlock extra

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