Kids can be cruel, like really cruel. Sometimes they simply don't know better, other times it's the result of questionable upbringing. And for the following 18 people, they've had some pretty bad encounters with children saying and acting in an incredibly rude fashion.
Time To Quit.
“Once when working at a local school I told a child (16) that they weren’t allowed to eat in the classrooms at lunch and that they had to leave. She took her cutlery and threatened: ‘I’ll kill you with this fork – I’ll shove it in your neck.’
THAT was rude! I was doing my job and she couldn’t care. The management did nothing about it when I reported it, so I resigned the job that day. But it was pretty standard from that child, and because she had got away with it for so long, the behaviour continued. Bad parenting had a lot to do with it too” (Source).
Rude And A Thief.
“I was living with one of my daughters after moving out of my ex fiancé’s house (he threw a heavy casserole at me and broke 3 teeth). One evening after I got home from work I heard what I thought was my grandson rooting around in the pantry. ‘Find anything good yet?’ I asked. This strange kid about 14 walked out and demanded where the pop was. When I told him there wasn’t any, he just sneered and stated ‘How the f–k would you know, you don’t even live here!’ and started to push me out of his way. I grabbed his arm and walked him roughly to the door and pushed him outside. Turns out it was a friend of the kid who lived next door and he had walked in to a few other houses and stolen alcohol and candy. My grandson had been playing video games in the rec room and hadn’t even heard the thief” (Source).
“Not to me, but my friend told me this story. She teaches at a fancy prep school and another teacher disciplined a child with recess detention for playing on a cell phone during class. The student cooly looked up and said ‘When I tell my parents, you won’t be a teacher, you will be cleaning my floors. My parents donated this building.’ The teacher backed down” (Sources).
At A Wedding No Less.
“This happened a couple of years back at a wedding. I was charged with taking care of this evil little kid for half an hour. I lifted him up for a second so he could see something from a window, and while I was distracted he took the opportunity to bite my neck. Why my neck, I don’t know. He started yelling and swearing, and this kid was four. His dad walked over like nothing was wrong when I had teeth marks on my neck and just carried him off laughing.
Later, when everyone was eating he started swearing again. Like, very colorful swears and then proceeds to drag table cloth off the table. Ten peoples’ food hits the ground. Enormous waste of food, horrible mess for people to clean up, and he still doesn’t stop swearing and yelling. I get that he was four or five years old. But when you bring your kid outside, there are some things that are expected. I’m not saying kids should be seen and not heard, but this was just unbelievable for me” (Source).
“I’m colorblind. Whenever that topic comes up, the automatic answer from most people (especially children) is what we know of as ‘The Quiz’: ‘What color is this? How about this? What about that over there?’ It’s not always apparent to them how rude that is, but when else in our culture is it appropriate to make somebody demonstrate their handicap? As in:
‘You’re dyslexic? Here, read this! No, it’s okay, I just want to watch you fail what I can do naturally!’
One nine-year-old took that to the next level, however. Her family and mine were attending the same potluck event together, and I found myself sitting directly across the table from madam youngling. She noticed that I had two drinks in front of me: an orange juice, and a green tea.
Her response was to switch places between the two drinks and say, ‘Which one is the orange juice? Betcha can’t find it!’ Then she got genuinely angry at me when I didn’t fail her test. I just about decked her, until her mother showed up to ground her for the bullying behavior” (Source).
Luckily It Was Caught On Tape.
“This takes place when I was still in my ‘I despise kids’ phase of life (and to be honest, the kid in this story didn’t help me change my mind either).
My apartment complex had a community pool and one day I decided I wanted to lay in the sun and get a tan, so I grabbed a lounge chair closest to the fence so I would be away from kids and parents using the pool. This one little snot who was probably 8 comes up to me and says ‘That’s where I always sit and play, get the f–k out of my seat you piece of s–t.’ I looked at him, and told him ‘It’s not polite to call people names when you do not know them, and also it’s best to use manners when speaking to people.’ And this kid responded with ‘F–k you a–hole, give me my seat or else.’ I just ignored him and went back to reading a book and listening to music on my MP3 player. The kid went to the pool and filled a bucket with water and came back and poured it on me, getting the book and the MP3 player wet. I got up and he took off running.
I laid back down and 15 minutes later the kid returned with his dad, and his dad accused me of grabbing his kid and taking his seat. As I was talking to his dad explaining what really happened, the kid took the book and MP3 player and tossed them in the pool, and when I told his dad he just did it, the dad said ‘Serves you right for taking his seat,’ and walked off. I went to the manager’s office, talked to them, called the police, and had them come out and take a report.
When the police questioned the kid, it went from me not only picking him up and tossing him off the chair, but I also touched him inappropriately a couple times and threatened to hurt him if he told anyone. So the officer tells the dad that his kid is lying. The video evidence clearly shows the kid instigating everything, even swearing at me, and at no time did I ever touch the kid. I was just glad that the pool area has 24/7 security camera coverage, otherwise who knows what would have happened” (Source).
Sticks And Stones Can Break Your Bones.
“Oh, I have two!! You guys can pick the best. Both of them involve stones and liquid.
The first incident happened when I was walking home from school. I was having a really bad day already so I went to my favorite bubble tea store. As I walked out, I saw this kid smirking at me strangely. I ignored him and went on my way. After a few steps however, I felt something hitting really hard on the back of my head. It hurt so much that I thought I had just been attacked and my head was about to blow up. I turned around and saw it was this kid throwing stones at me! I was furious and confused and I shouted at him asking why he did that. And then he just tried throw another one at my leg. Saying nothing, I walked up to him and threw the entire bottle of iced bubble tea in his face. He immediately bounced up and down screaming and crying since it was really cold and it soaked his shirt and everything, and I just threw the bottle in the trash can and walked away.
The second story is much simpler, I was doing homework at home (I live on the 2nd floor) and then heard the sound of stones hitting on the window glass. It was a bunch of kids. I told them to stop. They didn’t and kept giggling. So I went into the bathroom and filled this large bucket with water and poured it from the window. And then I heard the kids screaming and crying and a few minutes later I heard adults shouting at my window too. Guess they turned to their parents for help with this water-pouring devil. So I just poured down another bucket of water” (Source).
Hit To Her Self-Esteem.
“As a camp counselor for kids 6–12, I had quite a few ‘interesting’ interactions with them. But one thing stood out to me and the worst is that they weren’t intentionally rude; it just hurt my feelings a bit.
Ok a bit of info. Not including me, our team consisted of 7 girls; all in college (as am I) or about to go to college. These girls were also significantly shorter than I am (they were around 5?3–5?4). Also they wore makeup, had stick-thin bodies and could pass off as models. Most of them were nice and I liked them. Me? I’m super tall (5?11), had a curvy body type, wore no makeup and looked average. Throughout the summer, different groups of kids asked how old I was. Being nice, I’d tell them I was 21. And every time, they looked shocked with follow-up responses.
‘But you look like my mom!’
‘You look like you’re 30!’
‘You don’t look 21!’
‘You look WAAAAAY older than that!’
Took a big hit to my self-esteem that summer” (Source).
Rude And Scary.
“Well, rude, but also scary. I worked in a pre-K through 8th grade school with special education students. I was walking with one of my students when the middle schoolers were changing classes. One young man, who was taller than my 5?6? had very saggy pants, which was against school rules. As we passed him, I quietly said, ‘Sweetie, you need to pull up your pants.’
He responded by cocking his fist, getting in my face, and threatening, ‘Shut up, b—h, before I punch you in the throat!’ I wrote him up for this, with 2 teachers signing also. Sadly, our school system’s discipline was so lax, I don’t even think he was punished for this at all” (Source)
The Son Of Satan, And The Boy In Blue.
“My 2 year old son and I were at the playground, happily playing on the fort-slide with other children below age 3 (and their parents), laughing, with happy clouds, rainbows, and a sun with a baby face on the background. You get the idea. Suddenly this 5 or 6 year old boy storms into the park, angrily yelling something to his mother, who calmly sat down on the benches without even looking at him, staring at her smartphone the whole time. The other parents fell silent, looking at the boy, and for a moment I crossed eyes with one of the moms. I could literally see her discomfort. Our whimsical background turned into a heavy, clouded darkness, with lightning and thunder raging around.
The a–hole kid starts climbing through the slide, and stands at the top, blocking passage to all other kids. ‘Give me the magic word!’ he said. None of the children playing there could speak clearly, some even couldn’t. ‘Give me the magic word, or you will not pass!’ he yelled. None of the parents did anything, so I asked him to let them pass. The kid turned to me and said ‘You are not my father. Shut up!’ and then proceeded to break through the babies in the fort, all of them at most half his size, while stepping on fingers and trampling kids, including my son. While retrieving my crying son, I noticed some parents had taken their children out of the fort when the kid showed up. Then it hit me. He was the son of Satan, and the other parents knew it.
That was genuinely the only time in my adult life I’ve ever wanted a kid to fall in a backwards spiral and crack his skull (actually it was the first, I’ve seen that kid a lot of times now). He was the rudest kid ever. Now for the fun part.
Everywhere we went, Satan followed us and destroyed our games. I get it, he had troubles, needed attention, blah blah blah. You weren’t there; it was hell, and it was violent. Until he pushed a little girl, maybe age 4 or 5, while running around. A couple of second after she cried from the fall, a skinny 5 or 6 yo boy dressed in blue appears, helps her up and takes her to the benches and their parents. Blue boy calmly looked at Satan for a long while, while holding his sister.
Annoyed by our afternoon being ruined, I got ready to go home, so I started saying goodbye to the children and parents, when a loud scream filled the air. Satan was lying in the sand next to the fort’s slide, crying to his mother for help. ‘I tripped, mom! It hurts! IT HURRRRTS!’ he cried, while she carried him away without a word. It appeared that while he was running for the top of the slide, he had accidentally tripped and fallen over to the side. But we knew better. Blue boy was up on the fort the whole time, calmly looking at Satan as he left the park, crying. He had observed Satan’s behavior, and planned vengeance for his sister. He even made it look like an accident” (Source).
When The Babysitter Finally Quits.
“The only babysitting job I ever quit. The mom was divorced and had two boys, fourth and fifth graders, who had just started at a new school after being kicked out of the old one for starting a fight… and apparently, biting a nun. The mom couldn’t control them and it turned out I couldn’t either. My job was supposed to be to walk to their house after high school let out, let myself in the back door and have a snack prepared for them when they got home 45 minutes later. Then I was to stay with them until their mother got home from work.
We had a rocky start. The first day, I showed up and checked the hiding spot for the key… it was gone. I looked around frantically, only to discover the boys were already inside and had locked me out. One held up the key and gave me the middle finger through the window as the other pointed out that they were putting eggs, still in their shells, on the burner of the gas stove. The kitchen was full of smoke. That was my first emergency call to their mother.
I tried to persevere. She told me they liked going on walks to the ice cream shop or the library. I would open the door, and one would sprint in one direction while the other went the opposite way. I had no way of chasing them both down so I had no choice but to sit and wait. I got called ugly, fat, stupid, etc. on a daily basis and just thanked my lucky stars they hadn’t yet decided to attack me.
I had never quit a babysitting job before and tried so hard not to, but eventually I had to tell their mother that they just wouldn’t listen to me, and it wasn’t safe. I felt like a failure, like the harried nanny who quits in the movies, saying she can’t handle the impossible children, before the magical nanny comes along who can finally make them behave. But, I also felt like a huge burden had been lifted from me when I got away from that situation. And I sometimes wonder now, as adults, what they’re in prison for” (Source).
Rude Parents = Rude Kids.
“Me and my brother were at a birthday party, and naturally, there were lots of children running around everywhere. My five-year-old brother is a very happy child, he is not shy and has no problem when it comes joining other children to play, so he did. They were playing ‘Tag, you’re it!’ when an older kid forcibly joined the game. It brought a slight frown to my face, but I was talking to other invitees at my table so I really didn’t pay attention.
After a while, I noticed that most of the kids were leaving the game for some reason, and were going back to their parents and sitting bored at the table. Then I saw the older kid deliberately push my brother so hard that he tripped and hit his head on the ground, at which point he immediately started crying. The kid ran around him laughing. I experienced a big brother’s ‘No one touches my little brother!’ moment all of a sudden. I stood up from the table and walked up to the the kid, and I told him to help my brother up and apologize. He said ‘You’re not my father, you son of a b—h!’
I raised my eyebrows, and told him that if I saw him push another kid to the ground I would have him banned from the party. He couldn’t care less, so he just walked away. I managed to locate his parents and went over to them. I literally had to call them several times because they were absorbed on their smartphones. I told them about the incident, including that he had said ‘Son of a b—h’ The mother went back to her phone and the father told me that maybe me and my brother ‘Should stop acting like little crying girls, especially me.’
I was practically disgusted by both of them. I told my brother to just go back and play, and I told the exiled kids that I would give them candy if they went back to play. After a couple of moments, the annoying kid tried to forcibly get back in. Every time I would go and tell him to get out and go do something else, and after a couple of glares he would. Rude parents = Rude kids. Pretty simple” (Source).
He Just Kept Piling It On.
“Years ago, I had some kids enter our life in the form of a rather convoluted in-law arrangement. The mother of the kids was rather…sketchy… and the kids seemed a little off as well. My wife and I determined that we would do our part to give them all a chance, and especially give the kids some sense of normalcy that they didn’t seem to be finding at home.
The youngest son that this woman brought into our lives was…damn, I hate to say this about any kid, but he was a piece of s–t. He was obnoxious as hell. Over time, I got used to this jacka– doing stupid a– things, like turning on stove burners with nothing on them and leaving them on, flipping light switches off-and-on non-stop, unrolling entire rolls of toilet paper into the toilet just to clog it, etc. Just…plain…obnoxious. But, the thing that made him the rudest child was the result of the one time we let him stay at our house overnight. I already had a feeling this was going to flop, miserably. I mean, seriously, I’ve had hemorrhoids that were less annoying than this bucket-head.
So we take him to a local pizza place that has games. We give him $10 worth of tokens; he’s gone for about 20 minutes then comes back (with a pocket full of tickets) and tells us that he ‘needs’ more tokens, because some other kid stole his. When we asked who did it, he honestly said, ‘I don’t know, some n—-r.’ I, um, okay, seriously, what the hell? I knew he lied for the sake of lying, and goddammitsomuch, did he have to use the single most offensive word on earth? I kept my composure, knowing that he was a product of his upbringing, so I told him that he would not talk that way anymore, and he wouldn’t get any more tokens, so we sat, we ate bad pizza, and we left. But no…that wasn’t the rudest moment.
When we got home, we settled in to watch a movie. During it he does several random annoying things…pretending to loudly fart…randomly singing songs…yes, I know, this is all just so he can get attention, but, seriously? It was just stupid. We ended the night and he went upstairs to our loft where he was all set to sleep on the couch while we slept downstairs (we chose for him to sleep upstairs because our dog didn’t go upstairs, and we wanted to make sure there were no issues with the dog and this boy…yeah, I seriously pondered if he’d rape my dog…I’m not kidding). We made sure everything was set for him, then we went to sleep.
The night went without a hitch. Woke up, made him breakfast, then I got dressed to take him home. As I slid my foot into my boot, I felt something weird, then pulled my foot out; inside my boot…were condoms. At some point the boy had gone into our nightstand, taken out the box of condoms, unwrapped each individual one, and dropped them into my boots.
I confronted him with this and he feigned innocence, actually suggesting that our 1-year-old had done it. I wanted to kill him. But, I kept my composure, knowing that he was a product of his upbringing. I gritted my teeth and drove him home. But no…that wasn’t the rudest moment.
The rudest moment came when I went upstairs to clean up the sheets he slept on. On the carpet, in a nice little pile, was a large heap of what was clearly human s–t. And he’d wiped his ass using our sheets. Now that, THAT, was the rudest experience I’ve ever had with a child. He never spent the night with us after that. From what I understand, this kid’s now in his 20s and is still about as useful as the gift he left for me upstairs” (Source).
Have To Take A Step Back.
“I taught a high school class for students with emotional disturbance, which is the short way of saying that my students were dealing with some very real problems and had by in large had very difficult lives. I say this as a way to contextualize.
A student came into my classroom on Valentine’s Day. She was 20+ minutes late and carrying a bevy of Valentine’s Day gifts from her boyfriend. The rest of the class had just gotten settled on some group work. I gave her the directions and offered to help her with the first couple of problems. She was bent on showing her friends all of her presents. I let her know that she was welcome to do that in her free time, but class time was for learning math and reiterated my willingness to help. She declined and said she preferred to work alone, rather than in a group. I told her that that was fine. However, rather than working on the math, she got up and went to my classroom supplies section. I had, out of my own pocket, outfitted my classroom with different types of paper, colored pencils, highlighters, etc. She then proceeded to grab a number of items and bring them back to her desk. Here was the conversation that followed:
Me: ‘Hey, what are you up to? I don’t think you really need those to complete your assignment.’
Student: ‘I’m making Valentine’s for all my friends. What did it look like I was doing?’
Me: ‘Class time is for learning math. Furthermore, you need to ask permission to use my supplies. If you finish your assignment, you are more than welcome to make some Valentine’s, but until then, let’s work on the math. The faster you get started, the more likely it will be you have some extra time!’
Student (stands up and gets in my face and yells): ‘F–k you. You know, just because no one loves you doesn’t mean you have to be such a frigid b—h on Valentine’s Day.’
This was especially hard-hitting, as I was going through a break up at the time (student did not know this). It is by no means the most profanity dropped in my class nor the scariest thing that ever happened in my tenure teaching, but I do think it was the most directly rude.
I ended up having a pretty good relationship with this student in the end and worry about her to this day. She came from a pretty neglectful family, and so her friendships and romantic relationships held more importance to her than even the average teen. I also think she probably had no way to make her friends Valentines Day cards outside of my classroom, and it was important to her to reciprocate the love from her peers that she was feeling because she was probably insecure in those relationships. I provide the context because I think it is easy for us to think of rude kids as just being spoiled or indulged. Sometimes this is true, but other times, rude kids are struggling through a rough life the best way they know how” (Source).
Getting His Just Desserts.
“For my 16th birthday, I decided to go to Universal Studios Islands of Adventure theme park. It was a relatively warm day, so we swung by the log flume. While in line, standing behind the railing directly above me and my friend was just about the brattiest and nastiest ten-year-old boy I have met to this day.
Among various other annoyances, like random screaming and insults enough to annoy anyone in earshot (the entire line of hundreds of people), this boy intentionally leaned through the railing and spit on my head. Of course I couldn’t just let that stand. You just don’t tolerate intentional spitting from anyone over the age of 3. So I retorted by flinging a splash of water from the bottle I was drinking back at him. I think I got him squarely in the face. This boy was clearly taken aback. I could see it on his face. How dare anyone retaliate for my provocations? Everything is always supposed to go my way at all times! So he spit in my face again, more forcefully this time. I responded with more water.
At this point, the boy’s vile enabling mother got involved, and proceeded to start loudly berating me. I, of course, responded with something to the effect that she should act like a parent and discipline her child. Things got louder. Ride attendants overheard and one came to investigate. The attendant spoke with several of the people around me who explained to him that the boy was a villainous brat, and his mother was no less a jackanapes either. When the attendants went up to drag the offensive woman and child, kicking and screaming of persecution, from the line, the entire line erupted in spontaneous and heartfelt applause. I like to think they were ejected from the park. The child received exactly the desserts he had earned, at least” (Source).
Taking Matters Into His Own Hands.
“My oldest son is now 16. When he was little, we placed him in a kindergarten. My son is biracial (I’m Caucasian, my wife is Japanese) and fortunately, there were no incidents of racism (stuff like that comes when the kids are older, unfortunately). However, there was one kid who liked to make everyone’s life miserable. This happened when my son was 5. This kid was big for his age, would beat up all the other kids, even some of the older kids. Telling him not to do that did no good. The teachers told me this, but laws here are very lax in this area (in Japan). When I went to pick up my son one day, he was crying because the other kid had punched him in the back of the head for no good reason. When I saw the boy, I asked him why he’d done it. His reply: ‘Die, foreigner.’ Yeah, I can see where he got that from. At any rate, I took my son home and we had a little talk. It went like this.
Me: ‘You should never start a fight.’
Him: ‘I didn’t.’
Me: ‘I know, but if someone starts a fight with you, you finish it. Because they won’t stop. So make him think about fighting you next time.’
Now, I do not advocate violence unless it’s necessary. I prefer to talk things out on the off chance things can be settled. But in Japan, parents are notoriously lax with their little angels, as if they could never do anything wrong and this bully didn’t listen, didn’t care, and didn’t want to care.
So the next day, the school called me. We lived only a couple of minutes away, so I ran over and found my son sitting calmly in the hallway, blood all over his shirt and pants. It wasn’t his. Long story short, the other kid had cornered my son in the bathroom and punched my son in the back of his head while he was taking a leak. My son snapped and proceeded to wreak havoc. Apparently, one girl passed by long enough to see my son grab the other boys face with his left hand in a kind of claw-hold, and smash him with his right. She ran and got help, and it took three teachers to pull him off the other kid. I saw him…his face was virtually unrecognizable.
Sure enough, his parents came in. Father, big, fat and mother, small and meek. Immediately the father started yelling about half-Japanese kids pushing others around, threatened to sue me, wanted an apology, etc. Time to internally rage, but I told him to listen to the other teachers and if he wasn’t satisfied with the truth, I’d meet him outside. The administrator of the school came over long enough to tell him to pack his son’s things and leave. They never came back and the father never took me up on my offer.
As an add-on, about six years later, my son and I were walking around in a shopping mall and we saw the other kid. Couldn’t forget a face and when he saw my son, he turned around and took off like a whipped dog with his tail between his legs” (Source).
You Should Care.
“I was at my friend’s graduation party. We were sitting in her front yard when a group of kids, no older than 7 or 8, came running down the street. One of my friends, a natural mom, hollered after them. ‘You should get out of the street— there are cars coming!’
Instead of ignoring us or moving, one kid shouted back: ‘Shut up! Okay? Shut you’re a–. I don’t care!’ This kid proceeded to run straight ahead without looking and almost got run over by a motorcycle, in a beautiful case of irony. The kid was fine; the man stopped before he actually hit him. But strangely enough, we didn’t see those kids the rest of the night” (Source).
Knock The Christian Out Of Ya.
“I was helping out with the children’s choir. I volunteered to be the chaperone while they waited for the choir director to arrive. The bus dropped them off at the church about 30 minutes before the choir director could get there. We had a snack time. I made it my business to try to make snacks nutritious and ‘kid friendly.’ I tried my best not to just have a couple of cookies and fruit drink, and not only paid for most of it out of my own pocket, but took some time setting up a nice table for them.
There were 2 kids from a well to-do family. They complained pretty much every single week! ‘These crackers are stale,’ ‘This cheese is not fresh,’ they didn’t like the fruit or the drink or something. The ice cream wasn’t an expensive national brand. None of the other kids complained.
Finally, their mom started sending them with their own snacks (they did not take the bus over with the peasants, lol!) She’d stop at a local pizza shop or ice cream place and in they’d walk with their fresh baked pizza and soda or their $3 cones or $5 sundaes or splits. The other kids would see and immediately say ‘I’d like some too!’ so I had to explain that they brought that in with them.
First the kids then mom almost knocked the ‘Christian’ right outta me for sure” (Source).