I appreciate that demonstrating strawberry lemonade at Target may not be the most stimulating gig in the world. I appreciate this because I have, in fact, been a food demonstrator. It’s mind-numbing to make small-talk with people that just want to mooch food without actually buying what you’re hawking.
However.
When I remarked that it’s so great that Little Dude can have the artificially flavored strawberry lemonade, because he’s allergic to actual strawberries, your response was a major fail. In the future, please do not ever, ever say to a child who can’t eat strawberries,
“Oooh, how terrible to be allergic to strawberries. ‘Cause they’re so gooooooood.”
Really?
Have I become addled from wondering around Super Target for so long or did you really just tell my strawberry-allergic child that strawberries are so gooooooood?
I don’t know if you’re a sadistic harpy, or just plain stupid.
The Pork Lo Maniac was with me, and her jaw just about dropped to the floor at your sheer witlessness. She turned, in slow motion, as if expecting me to put you on time out or possibly knock you upside the head with some Method dish detergent. My Aspergerish son is actually medically diagnosed as lacking in social niceties, but he still knew immediately that you were an insensate muttonhead.
In fact, you might have noticed his devastated little face, except you were still too busy dripping the word gooooooood out of your overly-liplined piehole. I thought I had gotten used to the Texan drawl, but this particular moment made me re-think that.
I’m not sure if you noticed the “die, Crazy Lady, die” look I gave you. I was trying to save the situation with a cheerful, “which is why it’s so nice to have this special strawberry-flavored treat, Little Dude!”
I hope you're grateful that I chose not to smother you with your Archer Farms apron. (This would go down Cuckoo’s Nest style. You’ve clearly had a frontal lobotomy, and I, like the Chief, feel terribly sorry for you. Again, I chose not to, but if you should happen to see a 6’7” dude in hospital jammies come by, you should be really. really. nervous.)
I doubt this moment has weighed on your mind all day, as it has on mine. I realize I may be overly sensitive on the issue of food allergies. That happens when you’ve been in the food allergy trenches for nine years. I high-tailed it away from your display and over to the dairy section, where Little Dude could choose from a lovely selection of processed cheese snacks. And at that moment I felt especially grateful that he can eat dairy now.
Thank you, Crazy Lady. You have reminded me that for all the difficulties my children have faced, they are not the ones with the problem. xoxo,
Mommy
Beef Jerky - we now have to stop there on our next trip gotta try it....
ReplyDeleteSome people just don't think. I had a similar situation when my oldest was just 7ish... she is now a full grown adult and I doubt she even remembers it but to this day, I have yet to forget ... or, sadly, forgive.
ReplyDeleteAt the time, I had just had my second child. I had separated from their father during my pregnancy because the abusive (insert explicative of your choice here) beat the crap out of me on my birthday just 11 days after finding out we were expecting the child he begged to have... but I digress.
Because of the impromptu manner with which this all went down, I had no option but to apply for public assistance until I could put my life back together and adjust to life as a single mom with a new baby, so onto ADC we went.
My oldest daughter needed to see the dentist for her normal cleaning and because of our new status of being on public assistance, we were forced to see a new dentist who accepted our medical card. Now, you would think that if this dentist is set up to treat patients on ADC with medical cards, he would be non-judgmental and treat all kids fairly. NOT.
As we waited, with me slightly embarrassed by the entire situation and my daughter completely oblivious to it, many a happy children played and conversed in the waiting room about what treats they would get from the "Treasure Box" after their visit. Other children pranced excitedly past us on their way out with their little "Treasure Box" goodies. My daughter became excited at this point looking at me and saying, "Mommy, they have a treasure box here, TOO!". The treasure box was the highlight of her visits to the dentist... a cheap, little fun reward for sitting still and doing well while some witch with a pointy object rips the enamel ... erm, plaque off of your teeth and gouges the remnants of this mornings breakfast from under your gumline.
So, our turn comes and we enter the oral torture chamber. My daughter does amazing with the new dentist as she eyeballs the styrofoam cooler shaped like a pirates chest sitting in the corner. She is just waiting to see what wonders await her, while I simply hope she can manage to find one thing that stands out most to her right away so we aren't left standing there for eternity while she makes what, at that moment, is the most important decision of her life.
Fast forward to the end of the visit. The dentist tells her she did a good job... she waits with baited breath for him to grant her access to the sacred chest of baubles and treats... he looks at us, reiterates to me that we are finished and points us in the direction of the check out desk.
Hello? Excuse me? What did I miss here?
My daughter looks at me almost distressed, her eyes questioning exactly what she did wrong that she was being denied a visit to the coveted chest of favors.
ReplyDeleteSo, being a Mom who doesn't like to see THAT look, I politely asked Mr. Dentist if my child was going to be able to get a treat from the treasure box before being shuffled out the door. He flatly replied, "No."
The look on my daughters face was one of the most heart-breaking things I have ever seen. So, I inquired as to exactly WHY she couldn't have the same privileged that all of the other kids before her had gotten and his reply, right in front of my daughter was, "Because you are on welfare."
My daughter looked at me and asked, "Mommy, what does 'welfare' mean and why can't I get in the box?"
I shot the dentist a look that would have killed him if I had Godzilla's laser beam eyes. I have never wished to be Godzilla more in my life than in that moment.
I told my daughter, right in front of the dentist, that the cheap plastic crap in the box wasn't worth her time worrying over and that I would get her a REAL treat for her good behaviour at the store on the way home and we left, but I was totally pissed off.
I'm sorry but I was far from those people who make income from welfare a way of life, popping out one child after the other and calling it a cost of living raise. I was not the stereotypical taxpayers nightmare and he had seriously offended me. Though I blew it off in front of my daughter, I couldn't let it go so I wrote a letter to the editor of the local newspaper. Of course, they couldn't print the dentists name or anything that may disclose him specifically, and they're SUPPOSE to keep the writers personally identifying information private as well.
They didn't and I had people showing up at my doorstep giving my daughter dollar bills, asking me who the dentist was so they could be sure it wasn't THEIR dentist who was a dream crushing a-hole and telling us how sorry they were for this dentists rude behaviour, as if they were somehow to blame.
In retrospect, I should have sued the newspaper for giving my home address to anyone who called to inquire. It was a humiliating invasion of my privacy. I just wanted to vent to the public in peace. I wasn't asking for handouts, I didn't have any expectations ... I just wanted, in the very least, to tell people to think before they speak and not to stereotype people before they have the facts.
ReplyDeleteBUT, word did get around. My own mother was at work and overheard the break room full of people discussing my letter to the editor, all trying to guess by the little clues that had not been edited out who it was.
Ironically, most of them guessed correctly. My mom never confirmed because she didn't want to further embarrass me (or perhaps herself) by admitting it was her own daughter who wrote the heart wrenching story about the well-behaved little girl who was deprived of a treat simply because she was on welfare.
I later learned that the dentist himself was queried as to whether or not he was the dentist from the letter to the editor. He never confirmed or denied it was him but his response as relayed back to me was, "Do you know how expensive it gets giving out these things to children? When parents who PAY their OWN bills come in, they are essentially buying the treasure box item. The government doesn't even cover the full cost of treatment, let alone any extra for a toy. I'd go broke if I had to pay for trinkets for EVERYONE!".
Personally, I find that completely lame. Those items are a dime a dozen... stickers, pencils, little cheap plastic spider rings etc. purchased in bulk and these are CHILDREN. I'm sorry but if a dentist is more worried about the 2 cents it cost him to make a child happy than a child's feelings and the 20 years of therapy he could have just induced, he shouldn't be treating children.
Needless to say, I never went back to him.
Wow, sorry I had to use 3 posts to post this to you.... I tend to be extremely verbose. O.o BTW, I love your blog. I've been reading your posts for the past 2.5 hours.
he is a damn disgrace to the human race. dont be upset about people giving your daughter dollars...people are generally a generous lot and probably just wanyed to help. needing assistance is nothing to be ashamed of...ood for you for getting the help u need to get by for now!!! that dentist should be ostracized by his peers, his clientele and all who know him! imagine??? the kids who are on welfare or whom are experiencing difficulties are the very ones he should be giving these little trinkets to. shame on him and he will egt his!!! hang in there and keep on keeping on!
ReplyDelete