Trolling the Entitled
Language: en
It was my twentieth birthday. My friends and I were celebrating at a busy interactive restaurant—think melting pot, loud music, and staff that made a big deal out of birthdays. I had brought a small, artisanal four-inch cake to share after dinner. Before we’d even ordered, a little girl started staring. She wanted a piece, bad. When I refused, she threw a full-blown tantrum right on the floor. But I don't negotiate with terrorists, no matter how small. I just smiled and said, "Aww, you poor thing. Your parents can't afford to buy you your own cake?" My roommate, Piper, instantly…