I had the three brattiest children ever at work today.
The first one was a little ginger boy with his mom. She's joking about how they were looking for school clothes but ended up buying things he couldn't wear to school.
The boy offers, "We're poor!"
This embarrasses the mom, of course, but she handles it well. "Sweetie, that's not a polite thing to say."
"What? It's true!"
Okay, whatever, brat. So then we're at the end of the transaction and she's signing for her credit card. He starts trying to grab the pen from her.
"Honey, stop it, I need to sign this."
He seriously answers, "Fine, ya big devil!"
Um, excuse me? Rude alert! She was very upset.
Then, a little while later, I had a little girl who wanted her own bag. If children are nice about this or if the parents ask, I will usually oblige. But she literally tells me, "I want my own bag for my own stuff."
The mom says, "I don't think she needs to do that, honey. It's all yours anyway, except the one pair of pants."
"Um, yeah, which I don't WANT in my BAG."
Little girl, please. Not happening.
Then, one of the last customers of the day had a daughter.
She was checking out in my coworker's line. I was at register one and my coworker was at register two, so the customer couldn't see me.
I was dancing and looking at my coworker, and the little girl says, "You're getting your little groove on over there!"
Excuse me, little girl. If anyone's getting her little groove on, it will be you, the LITTLE GIRL.
When I talked to my coworker about it later, she said that the little diva had also volunteered, "I have a really good fashion sense, don't I?" Oh, please. Who says that?
What a little diva.