What entitled behavior of adults teaches the kids

Notes:  

First, I will use the terms "entitlement" and "rudeness" interchangeably in the following post because they are the same thing. 

Second, none of this applies to the beleaguered parents of uncontrollable children we see in airports, supermarkets, or other places where they have to be, and are already miserable enough without the pursed-lip scrutiny of strangers. In those situations, if you're a nice person, the thing to do is tell those parents that someday they'll miss these times and should enjoy them while they can, so that at least you can make them  laugh.  

Please continue.

In my travels around the internet last week, I came across the story of Grant Achatz, a chef in Chicago who is considering a ban on small children in his restaurant, Alinea. The story goes that, short a babysitter, a couple brought their infant with them to the pricey Alinea where dinner runs about $265 a plate. The baby cried throughout the evening (of course) and diners who'd secured their non-refundable plates months in advance, were outraged.

I'd like to be appalled by the entitled behavior of this couple but entitled adults are everywhere and you can only be so appalled by the same thing for so long.  However, I caught a glimpse of entitlement in the making, just last week.  

Which was appalling.  

We were meeting friends for dinner in a restaurant, which, on the scale of eateries in our little Concord, NH is more "up" than "down". It is known for quiet ambiance and is popular among couples in their forties and fifties rather than twenties and thirties. The menu is comprised of old family recipes, the prices are on the higher side.

It was around 6:00 and not that busy yet, so we took a seat at the bar to have a glass of wine and wait. 

A party of six entered the restaurant, two couples, each with a child of about three or four. 

So far so good; cute kids, nice adults.

Within ten minutes, the kids were standing up in the booth and tossing things across the table, while the couples looked past them to chat with each other. The noise level increased and a server appeared to get things rolling. A moment later, there were sounds of a disagreement and the manager headed over.

I began to eavesdrop, first, because that's my job, and, second, because I was sitting right there.

"Why can't you?" one of the men asked the manager.

"Sir, the entrees are served as they are described."

"My kids don't eat like that."

"We can't create and price new entrees to order."

"You can't just throw a little pasta and butter together?"

"It disrupts the kitchen to part from the menu."

"You have, what, like ten people here? I don't see why you can't accommodate us."

This went on for a while. 

"I can't do that." 

"You just don't want to do that."

"I could check with the chef, but I know what the answer will be."

"I've been here many times, tell the chef that."

The manager started for the kitchen, turned, came back.

"On second thought, I'd like you to leave," he said. "I don't appreciate your attitude. It isn't what you're asking for, it's your attitude. "

The man was  incredulous. "You got to be kidding me."

"I mean it," the manager said. "Find another place to eat."

"Just stop," one of the women pleaded,  "Just stop it."

Nothing happened for a few seconds while the manager stood his ground and the man gaped. 

"Go ahead," said the manager, "find somewhere else."

The couples and their children slid from the booth and started for the door, the two men making loud, over the shoulder comments about rude, unaccommodating restaurants to which they would not return, to which they would make sure their friends never returned, or anyone else to whom they would be sure to report what happened, etc.

At the bar, the manager was noticeably upset. 

"Nice job," I said. "I was wondering how far away from them you could put us."

"I never do that," said the manager. "It was his attitude."

And this is the thing about entitled people. They make you feel intolerant when you refuse to put  up with them, and passive when you do.

A year ago, I saw the same kind of thing in another upscale bar (we have three) where my husband and I met for dinner after a week apart. A couple entered, their small, tired, complaining kids in tow, and proceeded to order drinks, appetizers and entrees while their restless children hopped on and off the stools, saying, "Mama, I'm bored." Over a row of planters was an enormous dining room, nearly empty, where Mama might have made her bored children more comfortable, but where, evidently, she did not prefer to sit.  They not only couldn't have appeared less concerned about how their kids were behaving, they couldn't have appeared less concerned about how everyone else was affected.

And this is the other thing about entitled people. They address obnoxious behavior by normalizing it, using lazy rationale like, "Kids will be kids".

I'm fascinated by entitlement; what people expect just for waking up in the morning.  But as satisfying as it is to watch adults who behave this way get their comeuppance, it is discouraging to see them model this behavior in front of their kids who will first be kids, and then be adults.

Entitlement begins at home, where children learn that only some people deserve respect, while others don't, where one's own needs are more important than anyone else's and where demanding and sulking bring faster results than negotiating or compromising. They grow up to treat servers badly, refuse to wait in line, abuse customer service people on the phone and bring their crying babies to very expensive restaurants where they feel they have as much right to stay put as anyone else who paid.

Chef Achatz tweeted the question: "should babies be banned from expensive restaurants?"

They should be. Cell phones are banned in nice dining rooms and like cell phones, babies can go off anytime. But more than that, a restaurant owes me a nice dining experience in exchange for my non-refundable cash, more than they owe entitled, rude people their good manners.