18 Child Actors Who Are All Grown Up Now, and We Didn’t Even Notice It (New Pics)

Entitled Mom Blocked Our Delivery Spot & Told Us to ‘Work Around Her’—Minutes Later, She Regretted It a Lot

As a foreman, I’ve seen a lot in 20 years of construction, but never anyone quite like the mom who rolled into our no-parking zone like rules were for other people. When I politely asked her to move, she asked me to “deal with it.” I just smiled and karma handled the rest minutes later.

Have you ever had one of those days when someone else’s entitled attitude becomes your unexpected entertainment? Let me tell you about my morning. I’ve never seen karma work so fast… or hit so hard.

I’m Bob and I’m 40 years old. I’m a foreman for a construction crew bustin’ our backs building a house halfway up Mount Hellscape. Okay, not a real mountain, but 250 feet up a narrow footpath sure feels like one when you’re hauling plywood on your shoulder in the July heat.

A construction foreman at work | Source: Midjourney
A construction foreman at work | Source: Midjourney

We’ve been working this gig for weeks now. There’s no road to the build site. Just a footpath. That means every damn board, beam, pipe, and nail has to be lugged uphill by hand.

The only break we get? Two sacred parking spots at the bottom of the hill, marked clear as day: No Parking. Tow Away Zone.

Those two spots are our only shot at keeping deliveries running halfway smooth.

A ‘No Parking’ sign | Source: Pexels
A ‘No Parking’ sign | Source: Pexels

“Bob!” my buddy Mike called from the scaffolding. “Jerry’s on the phone. Says the lumber delivery’s coming early.”

I wiped the sweat from my brow and grabbed my cell. “Jerry? How far out are you, pal?”

“Three minutes tops, man. Got your roof trusses and everything else on the manifest.”

“I’ll clear the loading zone. See you in three.”

A construction foreman talking on the phone | Source: Midjourney
A construction foreman talking on the phone | Source: Midjourney

I pocketed my phone and started down the narrow dirt path that connected our hilltop site to civilization.

As the path curved, I caught sight of a gleaming white SUV parked squarely in one of our spots. Through the windshield, I could make out a woman texting on her phone, engine idling.

I felt the familiar twitch in my jaw. The elementary school half a block away meant we dealt with this at least twice daily. Usually, a polite request was enough. Usually. But not always.

Kids in an elementary school | Source: Pexels
Kids in an elementary school | Source: Pexels

“Excuse me, ma’am,” I called, approaching her driver’s side window with what I hoped was a friendly expression. “You’re parked in our construction loading zone. We’ve got a lumber delivery arriving any minute.”

She glanced up from her phone, window descending halfway.

“I’ll just be a few minutes,” she said, barely looking at me. “Your truck isn’t even here. Take a chill pill, dude.”

The window hummed back up and the conversation was over.

A furious woman sitting in her car | Source: Midjourney
A furious woman sitting in her car | Source: Midjourney

“Ma’am, please—” I started, but the rumble of a heavy engine cut me off.

Jerry’s massive delivery truck appeared around the corner, loaded with enough lumber to frame our entire roof. I waved him forward, pointing to our predicament seated in the car.

I knocked on the lady’s window again. After several taps, it lowered halfway.

“WHAT?” she snapped.

“The delivery truck is here,” I explained, keeping my voice calm, “You’re parked in a clearly marked no-parking zone. We really need you to move now.”

A lumber truck on the street | Source: Midjourney
A lumber truck on the street | Source: Midjourney

She looked past me at Jerry’s idling truck, then back to me with narrowed eyes.

“Can’t you guys just unload around me? Like, what’s the big deal? It’s not that hard.”

The window went up again and my customer service smile froze on my face.

“Fine,” I muttered, walking away. “We’ll work around you.”

“What’s the plan, Bob?” Jerry asked, leaning out his window, watching me approach.

A slow smile spread across my face. “She wants us to work around her. Let’s do exactly that.”

Jerry’s eyes lit up with understanding. “Say no more!”

A smiling truck driver | Source: Midjourney
A smiling truck driver | Source: Midjourney

“Pull in as close to her driver’s side as you legally can,” I instructed. “Let’s see how she likes being boxed in between you and the porta-potty.”

Jerry nodded, expertly maneuvering his truck to block the SUV’s driver’s side door with barely an inch to spare. With the porta-potty on one end and a legally parked car on the other, our entitled mom was now completely boxed in.

“Perfect,” I said, unable to suppress my grin.

“She looks mad,” Jerry chuckled, glancing in his side mirror.

A white car trapped between a truck and a porta-potty | Source: Midjourney
A white car trapped between a truck and a porta-potty | Source: Midjourney

“Let’s start unloading. I’ll make a call.”

“Who ya calling?” Jerry asked, already lowering the truck gate.

“Parking enforcement. Just to cover our bases.”

“Bob!” someone shouted from up the hill. I turned to see my crew arriving to help with the unloading.

“Let’s move, guys! We’ve got a roof to build!”

As my crew began the backbreaking process of hauling the lumber up the hill, I noticed movement in the SUV. Our entitled mom just realized her predicament. I could see her gesturing wildly on her phone, occasionally shooting daggers at me with her eyes.

An annoyed woman talking on the phone while seated in her car | Source: Midjourney
An annoyed woman talking on the phone while seated in her car | Source: Midjourney

“The parking officer said she’ll be here in about 30 minutes,” I told Jerry as we supervised the unloading.

“That long?” Jerry sighed, then brightened. “Well, we’ll still be here. This is at least an hour’s job.”

---

Twenty minutes into our unloading, a small boy in a blue backpack approached the SUV, tapping on the passenger window.

Entitled mom had finally realized she couldn’t exit through her driver’s side door. We watched as she awkwardly climbed across the center console, tumbling out the passenger side in a less-than-graceful heap.

A boy with a backpack | Source: Pexels
A boy with a backpack | Source: Pexels

“Mommy, why are you coming out that way?” the boy asked loudly enough for us to hear.

“Because these IDIOTS blocked me in,” she hissed, straightening her designer blouse while glaring in our direction. She ushered her son into the back seat, then stormed over to where Jerry and I stood checking off inventory items.

“I need to leave NOW!” she demanded, arms crossed tightly. “Move. Your. Truck.”

I opened my mouth to respond, but Jerry beat me to it.

“Ma’am, in order to unload the lumber, we had to unstrap it,” he explained with exaggerated patience. “Company policy strictly prohibits moving the truck with an unsecured load. Safety regulations. I’m sure you understand.”

Her face flushed crimson. “Trash your policy! I have somewhere to be!”

A furious woman yelling | Source: Midjourney
A furious woman yelling | Source: Midjourney

“We asked you nicely to move earlier,” I reminded her. “You told us to work around you. That’s exactly what we’re doing.”

“This is ridiculous! I’m going to report both of you!”

At that moment, a parking enforcement vehicle pulled up behind Jerry’s truck. Officer Martinez stepped out, clipboard in hand.

The entitled mom hadn’t noticed the new arrival yet. She was too busy jabbing her finger in my direction.

A female police officer | Source: Pexels
A female police officer | Source: Pexels

“I swear to God, if you don’t move this truck right now—”

I couldn’t resist. “Can’t you just pull out around it? It’s not that hard.”

Her eyes widened as she recognized her own words thrown back at her. The look on her face was worth every second of this confrontation.

“Screw you!” she spat, spinning on her heel and marching back to her SUV.

Officer Martinez approached us, eyebrows raised. “Morning, Bob. Got your call about the parking situation.”

Before I could explain further, the roar of an engine drew our attention. The entitled mom had climbed back into her SUV through the passenger door and thrown it into reverse.

“Oh no!” Jerry murmured.

An angry woman sitting in her car | Source: Midjourney
An angry woman sitting in her car | Source: Midjourney

The SUV jumped backward like a spooked goat on roller skates and plowed straight into our poor porta-potty.The thing tumbled, farted out a splash of blue goo, and lay there like it needed a minute.

“Holy cow!” I breathed.

The entitled mom shifted to drive and accelerated toward the curb, apparently attempting to mount the sidewalk to escape. The SUV made it halfway up before getting stuck, wheels spinning uselessly and the engine screaming.

Officer Martinez was already running toward the vehicle. “TURN OFF YOUR ENGINE! NOW!”

The woman froze, finally noticing the uniformed officer. The color drained from her face as she realized what she’d done… and who had witnessed it.

A lady cop talking to someone | Source: Pexels
A lady cop talking to someone | Source: Pexels

“Step out of the vehicle, ma’am,” Officer Martinez ordered, hand on her radio.

“I… these men trapped me,” she stammered, reluctantly emerging from the passenger side.

“Hands where I can see them.”

“My son is in the car.”

“I’m aware. That’s going to be an additional concern.” Officer Martinez spoke into her radio, requesting backup.

A startled woman in her car | Source: Midjourney
A startled woman in her car | Source: Midjourney

Within minutes, our entitled mom was sitting on the curb in handcuffs, her indignation replaced by panic. Her son watched wide-eyed from the back seat as a second police car arrived.

“She told us to work around her,” Jerry explained to the second officer, a tall man named Rodriguez. “So we did.”

“Then she decided to take matters into her own hands,” I added, gesturing to the destroyed porta-potty and the SUV still perched awkwardly on the curb.

“I never refused to move!” she shouted from her curb seat. “They never asked me!”

Officer Martinez shook her head. “Ma’am, they called parking enforcement when you first refused to move. That’s why I’m here.”

A police officer handing a violation ticket | Source: Pexels
A police officer handing a violation ticket | Source: Pexels

“This is all a misunderstanding. I was just picking up my son.”

“In a clearly marked no-parking zone,” Officer Rodriguez noted, writing in his notepad. “And then she operated that vehicle recklessly with a child inside.”

The woman’s shoulders slumped.

“Home telephone number?” Officer Rodriguez asked the boy. “We need to call someone to pick you up.”

As Jerry signed off on his delivery and prepared to leave, the tow truck arrived to remove the SUV from the curb. The entitled mom was being helped into the back of Officer Rodriguez’s patrol car, all fight gone from her posture.

An officer watching a person being escorted toward a cruiser | Source: Pexels
An officer watching a person being escorted toward a cruiser | Source: Pexels

“Driving on a suspended license too,” Officer Martinez informed me as she finished her report. “Plus child endangerment, destruction of property, and reckless driving. She’ll be spending more than a few minutes dealing with this.”

I watched as an older woman, presumably the boy’s Grandma, arrived to collect him, her face tight with worry and resignation, as if this wasn’t the first time she’d been called to clean up her daughter’s mess.

That evening, as the sun set over our hilltop construction site, I sat on a stack of newly delivered lumber, nursing a cold coke with my crew.

“You should’ve seen her face when you threw her own words back at her,” Jerry laughed, cracking open another can.

A man laughing while holding a can of beverage | Source: Midjourney
A man laughing while holding a can of beverage | Source: Midjourney

“I almost felt bad,” I admitted. “Almost.”

“Don’t, buddy. Some people need to learn the hard way.”

“What was the damage on the porta-potty?” someone asked.

“Company’s sending a replacement tomorrow,” I replied. “Thankfully it was due for service anyway.”

The crew laughed, and we raised our cans in a toast.

“To entitled parents everywhere,” Jerry proclaimed. “May the parking spots they steal always come with a side of instant karma.”

“And may they learn that in construction, as in life,” I added, “sometimes the harder you push, the more you get stuck.”

A chuckling foreman holding a beverage can | Source: Midjourney
A chuckling foreman holding a beverage can | Source: Midjourney

As twilight settled over our half-built house, I couldn’t help but smile. Tomorrow would bring new challenges, more materials to haul, and more problems to solve. But at least our parking spots would be clear.

And somewhere across the town, one mom learned a very expensive lesson about patience, respect, and the high cost of entitlement. Maybe next time she’d take the chill pill instead!

A no parking zone | Source: Pexels
A no parking zone | Source: Pexels

Here’s another story: In a crowded airport, a teenager mocked a janitor, thinking it was funny. What he didn’t realize was that his father was watching silently… from behind.

This work is inspired by real events and people, but it has been fictionalized for creative purposes. Names, characters, and details have been changed to protect privacy and enhance the narrative. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, or actual events is purely coincidental and not intended by the author.

The author and publisher make no claims to the accuracy of events or the portrayal of characters and are not liable for any misinterpretation. This story is provided “as is,” and any opinions expressed are those of the characters and do not reflect the views of the author or publisher.