If you are going to bring your kids to the grocery store, you need to keep a close eye on them the entire time.

What would you do if you were the cashier when a parent was checking out, and she let her kids run wild the entire time? Even to the point that one of them pulled the pen back, which was held by a rubber band, and then when she let it go, it flew into your eye, causing a sever injury?

That is what happened to the guy in this story, so naturally he shouted in pain. His manager wasn’t exact compassionate.

That parent should be banned from the store, and the manager should be fired. Read through this crazy story and see what you think.

This is why I hate pens, parents, and their children.

Of my few jobs as a teenager, one of the better ones, was as a cashier at a regional grocery store known for excellent costumer service.

All in all it wasn’t a terrible job.

My one manager was a religious nut job but was never around, and my coworkers were pretty cool and semi-hard working.

The customers were even decent 99% of the time. But wow, that 1% was awful.

Inconvenient, but this is part of the job.

One night, literally minutes before close, the final guest comes up with a cart loaded and piled over with food.

This itself isn’t terrible.

What was terrible was that it was all WIC or almost-WIC-but-not-quite-WIC-approved.

Apparently, accepting this type of payment is annoying.

Now, WIC is a great service for women and men in need of supporting their children with healthy diets.

I have no problems with it.

But as any cashier will tell you, their checks suck.

This is going to take a while.

I believe they have since changed their system but at the time it was only paper checks and everything had to match the check EXACTLY.

To make matters worse, I soon saw why she had so many items in her cart.

7-8 kids were swarming around her feet, with a bored teen texting away.

Wow, this is way longer than I thought.

So began the 40 minute long check out session.

The majority of the conversation went along these lines, with her spawn screeching in the background:

ME: I’m sorry, ma’am. This box of cereal isn’t approved by WIC and the check won’t take it off.

Go get it yourself, lady.

WIC: WHY NOT?!

ME: Because they only approve low- to no-sugar items/unwrapped processed cheese/non-flavored milk/ect.

WIC: Then take it off and get me the right one.

Get those kids under control.

WICS KIDS: (Busy pulling candy off the shelf, screaming at each other)

But repeat by like, 100.

I’m about 2/3rds of the way done with her WIC items when I realize there are many non-WIC items there too.

She clearly doesn’t know how this works.

I finish with the WIC, ring in all of the regular items and she whips out a food stamp card. More shouting from her children.

ME: Your remaining total is $26.70.

WIC: WHY?

Does she not know what she ordered?

ME: EBT doesn’t cover hot or prepared food items.

WIC: What did I get that was hot?!

ME: Ma’am, you have two fried chickens and a deli sub in your order.

WICS KIDS: (Start opening up soda they didn’t put on the belt but at this point I don’t care so I pretend to not notice)

What is she talking about?

WIC: I hope you are happy! Robbing me blind!

She then takes out her credit card and swipes to pay. Thank god. We’re almost done. Right? Wrong.

The machine prints out a slip to sign. Typically, there is a pen on a stretchy cord on my till, next to the sign pad for guests to use.

I didn’t see it so I just handed her another one and in that moment thought nothing of it.

These kids are absolutely out of control.

Until I noticed the plastic cable holding the pen was moving. But not just moving, it was stretched out.

In what felt like slow motion but was probably a split second, my eyes traced the cord to one of the small demons this succubus had dragged in tow.

The child, a girl around 5, had pulled the pen to its near breaking point and was aiming it right at my face.

Before I had time to shout, she let it go and and it hit it’s mark, my damn eyeball. I went temporarily blind and I felt hot liquid dripping down the side of my face.

Well, at least she is leaving.

I felt the pain immediately and couldn’t help but scream, it hurt so bad.

The lady must have noticed, put two and two together and freaked.

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She bolted, screaming and dragging as much as she could before literally busting open our doors to get out.

This is a very serious injury.

Fast-forward to a week later.

I’m on steroids for my eye, which is hidden behind a patch to protect it as it heals (Scratched cornea), and sporting a kicking slice to my upper eye-lid (which did the bleeding) when I get called into my managers office.

First he assures me that this isn’t a write up (what?) but then goes on to chastise me for screaming last week.

I would be so mad that the managers tried to make me look bad for this.

Never mind that she was the only person in the store, never mind the injury she inflicted upon me to cause me to scream – it was very unprofessional.

I’d like to say I quit right then and there – but I didn’t. I didn’t sue and at the pleading of my management I stupidly didn’t call the police.

The company was legally obligated to pay for the costs.

The manager took me to the ER and literally paid for everything out of pocket so I didn’t think of it at the time.

Also, eye pain. Plus, the benefits at this place were awesome and I made great money, especially for a teen.

All that really changed was the day after the incident the store cut off all of the stretchy pens.

This is why parents need to actually watch their kids. That lady should be banned from the store forever.

Check out what the people in the comments on Reddit have to say about it.

Of course he got no worker’s comp.

Her kids were literally stealing.

The manager’s reaction is the worst.

Where does she get the nerve?

Not all parents are bad, but a lot of them are.

Bad parents always seem to think they are entitled to everything. This story is bad enough, but the way his manager reacted makes it so much worse.

I would have lost all respect for the manager in that one moment, if I didn’t quit on the spot.