Saturday, February 9, 2008

Bitch

Today I volunteered to work a shift at Sous Chef's school Winter Carnival. Each classroom hosted a game and I worked the final shift for Sous Chef's room with another mom from the class. It was a cute game, kind of like Kerplunk from The Price is Right, but it fit on top of a table and used super balls, with three people each racing a ball. Anyway, one of the races ended, I turned to the line of kids who were up next and collected their tickets and handed out the balls while the winner from the previous race collected his prize from the other mom. They started lining up and there was one of the boys who had just completed the previous round standing to the left of me (the line was to the right of me) handing me a ticket to play again. I explained to him we already had three players and he needed to go to the end of the line. He said ok and started walking to the end. I very quickly feel a tap on my shoulder and this is what happened next:

His mother (AKA Bitch): "He was next in line and you let those kids go before him."

Me: "I thought he had just played the round before this one that's about to start."

His mother: "He did. Then he got at back in the line and he was next."

Me: "I didn't see him in the line. I only saw him standing next to me when I turned around to get the new game started."

His mother: "No he got at the end of the line and should be in this round about to start."

Me: "I'm sorry about that. I didn't see him and we already have three players. He will need to wait until the next round."

His mother, under her breath, you know, the "under her breath" that's loud enough for everyone to hear, and shaking her head: "Oh my god." And she makes sure he is next in the line.

Me, in a surprisingly calm voice, but loud enough for everyone to hear: "I said I was sorry. Excuse me for making a mistake. It happens."

The parents standing around who witnessed this were either looking down at their feet or up at the ceiling trying not to laugh. A couple made eye contact with me and clearly were thinking the same thing I was. I can understand this response if I had, oh, I don't know, just told her I fucked up her paycheck and she wasn't getting paid this week and I had no intention of correcting my mistake, or if I failed her or one of her children on a test because I incorrectly graded it and was not willing to make the change in my grade book. But this obnoxious reaction over her son having to wait an extra 30 seconds to play a game, all because of a MISTAKE? I now wish I would have finished the conversation like this:

Me, handing her my bag of tickets: "Here, you do it" and then walked away.

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