So, we all know that babies are annoying. But you know what is worse? The annoying baby’s parents.
I work at a restaurant, so naturally I’m bound to have to deal with a lot of random babies and their parents.
For starters, if I have a kid, you can be sure we wouldn’t go out to eat at a restaurant until he or she can behave. That child will know that crying in public just to cry is not allowed. We’ll order take out and eat at home if I just don’t feel like cooking. And I understand, you just had a kid and need to get out of the house sometimes. 1) Don’t have a kid if you’re not prepared to give up your social life; 2) find someone to watch the child for an hour or two while you get out.
Okay, so now my kid is well behaved enough to go out, I’m not going to chop up food into bite sized pieces and put it on the TABLE! (And then leave it for the employees to clean up.) Seriously? That’s what plates are for. Or get some of those plastic disposable placemats. Something. Don’t make some poor server have to pick up all your babies drooly grimey food pieces off the table. And the floor. And the seats. It’s disgusting. I don’t have kids because I think they’re gross, I’d have a hard enough time cleaning up after something that shared my blood, much less some strange human baby. Stop it. And if your kid makes a mess, clean up after him? Duh.
Then there are the parents who try to teach their kid to talk in public. “Grilled cheese. Can you say grilled cheese, sweetie? Grilled. Cheese. Grillllllllllllleeed cheeeeeese.” Okay, we fucking get it, you want your kid to learn how to order for itself. But your infant who can hardly even make out the words “momma” and “dada” is not going to learn it today. Be courteous of everyone who has to hear you and don’t be an annoying asshole. Save that for the privacy of your own house so as not to piss off all the people in the place.
So now your kid is too big for a high chair, so it’s free to run. Don’t let it? Inside a tiny restaurant where it is already hard enough to move around, the last thing I need is a two foot tall creature running around beneath my line of vision. Especially because I’m usually carrying something hot, heavy, or that requires balance – one little bump from a mini-human and it all goes crashing to the floor (or on your kid). On a similar note, if we are obviously busy, your two year old doesn’t need a table to itself. Don’t act annoyed when I tell your kid to move so that I can seat someone there that is actually going to make me money. Because, to be honest, you’re the one that should be telling it not to run off and play at empty tables in the first place.
I could probably go on for a while, but I’ll wrap it up there. All these things just reassure me that I don’t want children. Life is already annoying enough.