You don't pay attention, you don't shoot

401 5 0
                                    

Recently I have been coaching my younger brother (an uphill struggle), so when my club asked me to help on beginners courses I jumped at the chance. Before this one I had done three others, all going without a hitch.

There was always gonna be one.

So it began normally. We had two groups of four (one on each target) and two of the people on mine were Entitled Mum (EM) and Entitled Kid(EK).I notice very quickly that EK is not particularly interested, and both pay very little attention during the safety part of the course.

This is probably my bad. I should have called this out, but for some stupid reason, I let it go.

Now in archery, we have whistle signals (which we explained) to allow you to shoot. I blast on the whistle, up to the line to shoot. Three blasts, up to collect your arrows. Simple

We also have an emergency command, which is the word "Fast". If there is anyone over the shootin line when we are up to shoot, we call "Fast". Procedure for this is that you lower your bow and put the arrow back in the quiver. Once safe, we shout "clear". More effective than a whistle in these sort of situations.

So we've been shooting for about 20mins of a 2hour session. We go up to the line, and EM and EK have just loaded their bows when we hear "FAST!". Turns out a guy was still behind a target collecting an arrow, and he hadn't been seen when he whilste was blown. Ok.

Most people have replaced their arrows and are waiting to resume shooting. Then I look back at EK and EK. THEY ARE DRAWING BACK THE BOWS! I panic

Me: FAST! Lower your bows!

They both lower their bows and EM looks pissed.

EM: What?!

I point out that Fast means you need to lower your bow and return your arrow to the quiver. I then point out that there is still someone up on the field(it was actually indoors, but we referred to it as the field) and that they couldn't shoot. She huffed but put her arrows away.

We had two more weeks of the course, and throughout EK has been a pain in the ass, running around the field (not allowed) and messing with other people's stuff( Not allowed for obvious reasons). EM had been a general pain as well, being arrogant and snarky, quite obviously thinking that she was better than everyone else. She paid very little attention to her child, me or the other coaches, and as such her shooting was really a bit dangerous. In these weeks we had safety drills to ensure they knew what to do when Fast was called. EM and EK failed every single one. Because of this, we couldn't let them pass the course.

So the certificate presentation comes. We have certificates for everyone, but the ones for EM and EK will not allow them to join us or any other club. EK does not seem to notice, but EM is immediately furious. She walks up to me and gets right up in my face.

EM:What do you mean we can't join! We paid good money for this!

The Head Coach (HC) intervenes

HC: Ma'am, I'm sorry, but we can't allow you to join. Yours and your sons shooting has, quite frankly, been dangerous, and you have not paid any attention to the safety drills

EM's eyebrows shoot up so far they almost disappeared into her hair.

EK:Its not our fault he (Me) didn't teach us properly! You will let us join, or I'll be getting a refund!

At this, HC takes EM and a now crying EK(he was only 7) outside to talk to them. The other beginners begin to pack away their bows. When they return, they pack away quickly and leave just as fast; no thank you, and they left us to put their bows away. Fine.

But this wasn't quite the last we heard from them

About two weeks later we get an email from another club (OC). Turns out EM and EK had tried to join them, insisting they had passed their course with us. OC figured something was up when he told them he would have to email and confirm it with us, and they started making excuses, saying we were biased, stuff along those lines.

Anyway, we told them that they had not passed their course. OC thanked us, and we heard nothing more of it.

Entitled ParentsWhere stories live. Discover now