r/EntitledParents – Crazy In Law Demand Me To Work For Free – Reddit Stories
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r/EntitledParents – Crazy In Law Demand Me To Work For Free – Reddit Stories


“Entitled Parent Tries To Bully A Platoon
Of Infantrymen In DC On The 4th Of July. Learns The Errors Of Her Ways.” Backstory: Joined the Army right out of high
school. During basic training, I volunteered for a unit within the army known as The Old
Guard. (T O G from here on) T O G is responsible for ceremonies in the DC area and funerals
in Arlington National Cemetery, amongst other duties. T O G consists of units you may have
heard of, such as the US Army Drill Team and the Sentinels of the Tomb of the Unknowns,
as well as lesser known platoons such as the Presidential Guns Salute Battery and the US
Army Continental Color Guard and is the oldest active unit in the army. (I only say this
to emphasize that T O G isn’t some unheard of rifle company from BFE, it’s a fairly big
deal in the army and in the DC area in general.) Story time: So no shit, there we were. It’s
the 4th of July in DC. Big celebration, all kinds of stuff going on, I’m sure you can
picture it. Most of the celebration goes on in front of the Capitol on the National Mall.
As part of the festivities, my unit, the Presidential Guns Salute Battery fires the bass line for
the performance of the 1812 overture. (3-inch anti-tank guns firing blanks) Only the more
seasoned guys in the platoon get picked to do it, so the rest of us are given a cordoned
off area in the very front. We bring some food, some chairs, our families, and we have
a cookout during the day and watch the show when it starts. During the earlier parts of the day, it isn’t
too crowded, but as evening draws near it becomes packed in nearly shoulder to shoulder.
Fortunately, as I mentioned before, we had our own area at the front roped off from the
general public giving us ample room to have our cookout. (Perk of working for the government)
Throughout the day we would have people politely ask if they could join us, we said no but
were always respectful. We weren’t in uniform, but we had our unit T-shirts on, so we were
still representing the army. Enter Karen. It’s midway through the afternoon,
still a few hours before the show. We’re enjoying the weather and the time off. I happened to
be near the edge of our area when I hear someone behind me. I turn around and there she is,
pinched face and a haircut that says “I want to speak with your manager’s manager.” Karen: “Excuse me young man, could you ask
your father to take this rope down? This is supposed to be a public area for everyone
and my kids can’t see the Capitol.” (Mind you there are signs hanging on the rope every
5 feet (1.52 m) explaining the purpose of the rope) Me: (with my best PR smile) “I’m sorry ma’am,
this area is reserved for members of T O G and their families. If you’d like to come
back a little closer to dusk, we’ll be taking the rope down around then.” Karen: “T O G? I’ve never heard of that
before.” Me: (always happy to drop knowledge) “Ma’am,
T O G is the primary ceremonial unit for the US Army and escort to the President of the
US of A.” Karen: “I don’t see the president. Shouldn’t
you be escorting him or something then?” rolls eyes. Me: “Uhh…” ( I had no idea how to respond
to that, fortunately I was saved. ) Platoon Sergeant (Blake from here on): (Places
hand on my shoulder) “Good afternoon ma’am, I’m Sergeant First Class Blake (obviously
made up name) , what seems to be the problem?” As I knew this was my cue to GTFO, I went
back to my chair and observed their interaction. Couldn’t hear anything, but the interaction
concluded with Karen walking away looking annoyed. Didn’t think anything else of it
until about 2 hours later. We’re cleaning up our trash, breaking down
the chairs and tables and such. Out of the corner of my eye I see Karen approaching again,
this time with two Capitol Police officers in tow. PSG must have noticed too, I heard
him mutter, “what in the fu**?” under his breath as he walked to intercept the trio. I didn’t hear all the conversation, but we
all heard about it later. Blake: “Officers, what seems to be the problem?” Cops: (Obviously exasperated by the situation)
“Sergeant Blake, we received a report that your soldiers were making lewd gestures and
comments towards this woman’s family. Is there any truth to this?” Blake: laughs. “Absolutely not, I’ve been
supervising them all day, nothing even close to that has happened today.” Cops:(nodding as though this was what they
expected) “We had assumed that, but we had to follow up. Sorry to bother you.” Karen: “You mean you’re going to just
let them sit there and hog up all the space!? I drove my kids 9 hours to see this!!!” Cops: “Ma’am, these men are here with the
expressed permission of the Capitol Police and the District of Columbia. There are signs
there (points to a sign not 3 feet away) that explicitly state that.” Blake: (trying to diffuse the situation) “Ma’am,
we’re cleaning up our area right now, as soon as we are done we will be removing the rope
to let everyone in. If you can be patient and wait, we can get you and your family right
up front here in about 20 minutes.” Karen proceeded to stare at them, much like
a cow stares at an incoming train. Then she spun around and walked away without another
word. We think it’s all over, we go back to what we were doing. We were wrong. We’re just finishing up, taking the ropes
off of the pylons and stacking the pylons in the arms of another dude in the platoon.
Out of nowhere, here comes Karen, trailed by her 4 children and obviously stressed spouse.
(I’m assuming spouse, could have been boyfriend or, baby daddy) “It’s about time! Get out
of my way!” Karen all but screams as she goes barreling right through Private Another guy. I’ve got to pause here for a second. To be
in TOG you have to be between 5′ 10″ (1.78 m) and 6′ 4″ (1.93 m), and maintain the army
standard of physical fitness. To add to that, TOG is an infantry unit. If you aren’t aware,
infantry are generally the front line soldiers in combat, and we are trained for just that.
So, suffice to say, none of us were small, nor weak. Karen was probably around 180ish.
So when I say she barreled through this dude, I mean it. She put some force into it. Anotherguy goes sprawling to the ground, steel
pylons fly in every direction. A couple hit him in the face, chipped a tooth and split
his eyebrow open. One pylon bounces of the ground and hits one of Karen’s fu** trophies
in the leg. The kid, probably 12 or 13, starts wailing like he lost a limb. As we are helping Anotherguy to his feet,
Karen is losing every last ounce of her crap. Red-faced, screaming about how she’s going
to sue us for assault, how we probably aren’t even real soldiers, how we’ve ruined her family
vacation blah blah blah…… At this point Blake is done with her. If Karen
thought she was being loud, she quickly learned there are few things louder than a pissed
off senior NCO. With a single word he quieted everyone within
50 feet of us. Blake: “STOP!” (paused for dramatic effect)
“THAT IS ENOUGH. YOU HAVE BEEN HARASSING ME AND MY SOLDIERS ALL AFTERNOON. WE HAVE
TRIED TO BE NICE, WE HAVE TRIED TO BE RESPECTFUL. YOU HAVE BEEN NOTHING BUT RUDE. NOW YOU’VE
INJURED ONE OF MY SOLDIERS. THIS. STOPS. NOW!” I think Karen might have had a small stroke
right then. She stood, mouth agape, not able to utter a single word. And then, as if right
on cue, here come those two Capitol policemen. They hadn’t been far away, and had seen the
entire incident. I didn’t think Karen’s eyes could get any wider, until the first officer
pulled out a pair of cuffs and said, “Ma’am turn around and put your hands behind your
back. You are under arrest for assault and harassment.” She tried every excuse she could think of,
but the cops were having exactly none of her shit. They talked to Anotherguy, he wanted
to press charges. So they carted her off. I don’t know what the father did with the
kids, they dissappeared when the cops took Karen. Come to find out after Anotherguy comes back
from the court hearing, Karen had been carrying 3 bottles of pills that weren’t hers, and
2 stolen credit cards when the cops searched her. No idea what kind of time she got, but
it wasn’t enough. After all was said and done, we watched the
1812 overture and laughed about Karen for weeks afterward. Anotherguy was fine, a chipped
tooth and a little of bruising. Nothing major fortunately. Moral of the story. Read signs. Don’t fu**
with the infantry. “I Am The Queen Of Passive Aggression!” My hobby used to be making quilts from vintage
cloth. I would buy the cloth, usually flour and feed print sacks from the 30s and 40s,
at flea markets and antique stores. I pieced them by hand and sewed the squares together
on my old treadle sewing machine. Then I would hand quilt the tops using vintage blankets
as batting and older cotton thread. This took a lot of time but the end results were beautiful
and heirloom quality. Besides, it was a lot of fun. One year, I made a such a quilt for my brother-in-law’s
birthday. (husbands younger brother) He and his wife freaked out over it and thanked me
profusely. Two days later my mother-in-law walked into
my house without even knocking. (her reasoning was that it was ‘her son’s house’ and therefore
her right to do so.) I had been super busy all day and had just sat down on the living-room
floor to play Super Mario Kart with my boys. I was surprised to see her. She usually avoided
me if my husband wasn’t around. She snorted at me when she saw me on the floor, and asked
me if this was what I did all day, and then added that it must be nice to have so much
free time. (I have always worked from home. You would be surprised at how many people
think that this isn’t a real job) Then she dumped a bunch of fabric swatches out of a
bag onto my sofa. Before I could ask her what she was doing,
she started telling me that she wanted a quilt like the one I made for brother-in-law. But
she needed her’s to be bigger and with these colors. Oh…and she wanted new cloth, not
that ‘old junk’. She brought these swatches, so I would know what to buy for ‘her quilt’. At first, I was too stunned to speak up. Then
I was too angry to trust my mouth. My two boys never liked this woman, and they scrambled
to their feet and ran out of the room. I envied them for this because I was stuck facing this
cow alone. This woman had always been as awful to me
as she could; she had told my boys to their little faces that they were not her grandsons
because they looked nothing like ‘her son’. She told her other grand kids this too, so
we weren’t singled out. She had told all of her five sons that she would only recognize
her daughter’s kids, because she knew THOSE were her grand kids. She only claimed the
other grand kids as hers when she wanted to look good around other people. This woman had tried to fix my husband up
with other women for five years after we were married. This woman, who had been trying to
make me freak out for the past 18 years, was so entitled that she thought I should do all
this work for her…for free. So I looked through the swatches, asked for
the dimensions she wanted as well as the block pattern, thought for a few moments then told
her: “Yeah, I can do all that…for about five thousand dollars.” I figured that this was a large enough sum
to freak her out and make her go away. If not, well sure, I’ll make her a quilt for
that stupid amount. “Five thousand dollars?!! But you just GAVE
one to your brother-in-law!” “That was a birthday present.” “Well then this can be MY birthday present.” “I’ve never given you a birthday present.
The only time I tried to, you handed it back unopened. You told me that you only accepted
gifts from family or friends and that I was neither. Five thousand dollars…up front…
or no quilt.” Frowning and pressing her lips together, she
gathered up her stupid swatches and left. I opened the door for her and held it, so
she couldn’t slam it. (she was a slammer) As I watched her drive away I couldn’t help
but think about how much FUN that had been!! So, for the rest of the year, my husband’s
other three brothers got quilts for their birthdays. Also, to add insult to injury,
I made them out of ‘new’ cloth and not that ‘old junk’, as well as the colors and patterns
my mother-in-law wanted…because I knew it would get back to her that I had done this. That crazy woman tried as hard as she could
to guilt one of her sons into giving her their quilt. Nope, didn’t happen. 1993 was a fun year!

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