There are just some things that you can’t say to a pregnant woman.

This pregnant vendor encountered some customers who were so pushy about wanting to adopt her baby.

She had to calm herself down so she wouldn’t lash out violently against the audacious women.

Read below for the full story.

“You should let me adopt your baby.”

When I was pregnant in 2011, I was saving up money by selling bread at farmers’ markets. I enjoyed sitting under a canopy, chatting with the other vendors, and interacting with the customers.

The people who bought my bread were usually nice, and fell into the categories of soccer moms, old ladies, or young male hipsters (I sold organic vegan bread and gluten-free pastries).

Lots of people always commented on my baby bump, asking about the gender or due date and congratulating me on my pregnancy.

The second-to-last time that I worked at this farmers’ market in particular, three ladies in their 50s or 60s approached my booth. I recognized two of the generally pleasant ladies, but not the third.

The rude customers wanted to adopt this vendor’s baby.

“This is the girl that we’ve been telling you about. The one that’s going to have the baby,” one of my regular customers said to the youngest-looking of the bunch.

“How old are you, hun?” I told her that I was 21.

“Married?” she asked. She spoke quickly, and I remember it sounding like she was a clucking chicken.

“No, but I’ll wrangle a proposal out of my boyfriend some day,” I said, smiling, even though I always hate when people asked.

“Hun, we’ve been telling this lady all about you,” one of the regulars said to the unfamiliar face.

“This is (Lady’s name), and she wants to adopt your baby.”

“What was that?” I thought I was mishearing these ladies.

“You should let me adopt your baby, sweet-heart. You’re too young to have a kid. You’d be a horrible mother.”

She was about to lash out violently.

I was a hormonal pregnant woman that had been working a long hot day in a parking lot, and I wanted to kill her. I wanted to gouge her eyes out with baguettes, but I somehow managed to keep calm.

“I’m not interested in putting my child up for adoption. Sorry. So can I interest you ladies in any breads today?”

“Can you at least consider it? I can give you some money. Maybe you can go to school and make something of yourself.”

To this day, I still don’t know how I didn’t kill those three ladies.

“Can you excuse me a moment?”

She had to calm herself down.

I went over to the jewelry vendors next to my tent. We knew each other well because of the numerous farmers markets they also set up shop at throughout the week.

They were the ones who usually helped me set up my tent and tables; we watched each other’s tables when we needed restroom breaks.

I asked them if they could watch my stand, and they did.

When I got back from the restroom after mentally rehearsing an angry come-back, they were gone.

They kept coming back looking for her.

One of the regulars stopped by my booth the following week and told me she wasn’t buying my bread anymore because of how rude I was to her friend.

Later, the lady wanting to buy my kid stopped by and asked if I had given it any thought at all.

I told her no.

I switched farmers markets with my grandpa after that. The next week, he told me that some ladies had been asking about my baby.

The bread is for sale, but not the bun in the oven.

Let’s see what some people think to this story.

The audacity!

This makes sense.

Here’s a hilarious comment.

An astute point.

And lastly, people are finding the humor in it.

You can’t haggle over babies.

If you liked that post, check out this post about a woman who tracked down a contractor who tried to vanish without a trace.