A Day Of Dougie: Bad Parenting 101…

A Day Of Dougie:
Bad Parenting 101
April 14, 2020
DougMaynard.com

It’s the story of a lovely lady. Okay, stop right there. It’s the story of a lady who I can’t truly describe as a “lady”. Or “lovely”. And the rest of the Brady Bunch song, from which I borrowed my intro, talked about bringing up “three very lovely girls”. There was just one kid, not a girl and he didn’t seem so lovely either. A future wild-child and most-likely felon and he will have only the example set by his mother to blame. Are you intrigued and interested in this story yet? I’m calling it “Bad Parenting 101” and it’s today’s edition of a “Day of Dougie”. Let’s do this…

I was at work last week. I don’t think that anyone would be surprised by that revelation since I do work and work often. And where I work, as you may know, is a place where we have many customers, see many types of people and there is little that is truly surprising or shocking anymore. This incident of which I’m about to speak wasn’t really surprising or shocking and that’s what makes it so bad. It’s far more common than I like to admit. It’s just another day at the office if you will and that is what makes me so sad and fearful of what our world has become. And I guess I’ll just get on with it and tell the story as I recall it.

We had a customer, a female, come into the store. And she’s talking to three guys who came into the store about the same time. Just loud and obnoxious and foul language back and forth and they’re trying to flirt and hit on her and she’s trying to get them to buy her bottle and the usual back and forth banter. I don’t know if she even knew these guys, but I’m suspecting so. At least I hope so, but these days, it’s hard to tell.

Before I go any farther, let me describe this lovely member of the female species. She’s very heavy and yet is wearing shorts that are too small, cut too high and leave absolutely nothing to the imagination. And I do mean nothing at all. I can’t remember what day this actually all took place, but I’m sure it was on a Wednesday because there was a lot of camel-toe being exposed and plenty of references to hump-day being used or at least humping, past and future tense. And the belly was hanging out, boobs were just barely covered, tattoos were on the front of the thighs saying something, but I couldn’t quite make out what, but probably just listing rates or proclaiming “open for business” or something of that nature. Suffice it to say, this was not a person dressed up for Church or even a trip to Wal-Mart. I hate to be judgemental, but this was a gutter-crawling, trash-bag ho… period. There’s no other way to describe it or her. She was loud, obnoxious, and obviously open for business and these three guys were all over it and her and ready for negotiations.

But that’s all none of my business and frankly, I see it so often, I don’t even give it much attention or notice anymore. Just make your purchase and leave and we’re good. And she did just that, making her purchase and leaving. Well, one of the guys actually paid for her items and bought his own and the three guys followed her outside and that’s it. End of story, right? Not quite. The guys got into their car and she got into their car too. And next to their car was her car, which was sitting in the parking lot, with her ten-year-old son sitting and waiting for her. Yes, the whole time that the Ho-a-saurus of a beast woman was in the store, her young son was out in the car waiting for his Mom to come on. And instead of getting in her car and leaving with her son, Mom decided to get into the car with three guys. They sat out there for over forty-five minutes while she and the guys hoot and hollered and did whatever they were doing, parked in front of the store, while the young kid sat alone in his Mom’s car waiting and occasionally sticking his head out the window and yelling something over to the other car to his parental figure and her three new friends. And all I and my co-worker could do is watch from the inside and shake our heads in disgust and disbelief.

Finally, the mom got out of the car and was still hooting and hollering and talking trash with her three thug-wannabe’s and then got into her car. She yelled something at the boy who had been waiting for her all that time and he yelled something back and then they drove off, the car with the three guys right behind them as they left.

And all I could wonder is what kind of example and role-model this is providing for the kid. Mom dresses like a tramp, hooks up with guys at the liquor store, chills with the same guys in their car while the kid waits just a few feet away for nearly an hour and then finally gets back in her car and leaves with the three guys right behind her. And three years from now, she’ll be wondering why her kid has no respect for women, uses drugs, is a male whore-dog and can’t hold a job. Look in the mirror, Mommy-dearest. Now, ask those questions again.

I’m not a parent and have no kids of my own so I can’t presume to tell others how to be a parent or raise their kids, but I do pay attention and have a little bit of common sense and understand about being a role model and setting an example for kids to learn from and follow and this woman sure as hell ain’t doing it right. This woman is the same person who will make excuses and blame everyone else for her shortcomings as a parent and her own failures in life instead of looking at herself and trying to do right and be a good example. And based on what I witnessed in that parking lot, her kid is in for a hard way to go as well.

I shouldn’t judge and I realize that, but in this case, with this woman, I will. If she’s an example of what parenting has become these days, Lord help us all. We’re freakin’ doomed.

And I guess that’s all for now. Comments, thoughts and any questions are welcome. For now, I’m out of here. Until the next time, take care of yourself, stay cool and be safe. And never forget that today and every day, it’s always a Day of Dougie. I’ll see you later.

Ubuntu!

boy child clouds kid
Photo by Porapak Apichodilok on Pexels.com

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