Hosting guests can be a tricky business, and even the most well-intentioned hosts can sometimes make mistakes. But what happens when those mistakes cross the line into disrespect, or even worse, what if the disrespect is intentional? We asked a group of house guests to share their most memorable experiences of hosts behaving in ways that were rude, inconsiderate, or just plain disrespectful. Here are some of the most shocking stories they had to share.
All content has been edited for clarity.
Just A Tad Insensitive
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“I was at a BBQ at a colleague’s house with my wife. We had taken a 12-pack of beer and a bunch of food to be cooked. After being there for about an hour or so, I could see that my wife was in tears. I asked what had happened and she told me that the host’s wife had said that she needed to ‘get over it.’ Her father had died only 5 weeks prior and the slightest mention of parents would make her a bit upset.
I challenged the host’s wife about the comment and she replied, ‘Well, she does need to get over it. He’s dead, unlucky. Move on.’ I’ve never heard anything so hurtful being said to someone that is grieving.
I picked up my remaining beers and uncooked meat and left the house.
The following day, at work, my colleague said that I was rude to have taken MY beer and MY food when I left so I went home at lunchtime, retrieved them, and slammed them down on his desk that afternoon. I made sure to broadcast exactly why I left, and why I took the food and drink (no food had been provided by the host and I hadn’t had a single drink that he’d provided).
I then hosted a BBQ the following week where I provided everything. Some people brought their own drinks but everything else was provided by me. I made a point of not inviting him and his wife.
Everyone in the office also made a point of telling him my wife and I had been great hosts, especially considering that she was still grieving her father.
That was over 25 years ago but I remember the hurt that his nasty wife caused like it was yesterday.”
That’s Just Low
“Our son was about 4 and had a jacket that he was very attached to. It was a cheap fleece, but very crucial to him. He wore it all the time; when it was hot, in the house, to bed, all the time.
At the daycare, it was not uncommon that your kid would come home with the wrong jacket or cup. It was an informal, church-run ‘mom’s day out’ setting, the caregivers were all sweet (and not so sweet) older ladies, and the jackets all tended to look similar. Once we noticed this had happened, we washed the jacket and sent it back with a request that the other party would do the same.
Well, they didn’t. We asked several times, put up a photo of the jacket, and asked around to try and figure out who had it, all to no avail. The kid was upset for a long time – as I said, he got attached to things and was upset by change. It was a small place, and everyone knew this.
Anyway, fast forward several months and the kids were invited to a birthday party at the home of one of the families from the daycare. At the party, they made a big show of mentioning their upcoming missionary trip to provide clothes to impoverished children, and they had a fundraiser going for that purpose. At some point, everyone was in the game room, and right there, on a hook was the jacket. The daycare owner saw it first, and she ducked her head, like a turtle!
My husband was right behind her – and he has a way of having what he’s thinking plastered all over his face- and he was already pointing his finger! The daycare owner took one look at him and left the room with a trouble-making grin!
Of course, the conversation went something like this –
Me: ‘Oh, wow- Kid has really been missing that jacket – did you see the emails?’
Other Mom: ‘Um, what emails?’
Me: ‘How about when I asked you, last week?’
Other mom: ‘I have no memory of that!’
Literally everyone else in the place: Mmm-hmm. Ok.
Some people are just jerks.”
She Sounds Delightful
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“I once attended a housewarming party on Saturday, hosted by an acquaintance who was more of a ‘friend of a friend’, who had just bought a new house with her newlywed husband. As I had been invited to come to Sunday services at my friend’s church and to hang out with her friends, all of whom were evangelical Christians I had started to become familiar with some of them when I’d see them every Sunday.
I was the only man at the housewarming party other than the hostess’s husband and my friend, a female whom I had known for years since high school and I arrived in time to meet about 20 of the women who had come to meet the hostess and her husband and see her new luxury home which he designed and help build since he was an architect who specialized in ecological friendly homes and modern buildings.
Upon arrival with a box of some luxurious chocolate hazelnut cake, since it was a pot-blessed party, and a brand new bread-maker machine still in the box which the hostess really wanted. I was then directed to put the boxes in the kitchen and then proceeded to the living room where everyone was gathered for introductions and helping themselves to non-alcoholic drinks, while the food was being placed on serving plates and brought to the living room.
When I was introduced to the hostess by my friend and I offered my hand to shake she ignored me at first while some of the women guests interrupted to compliment her on her new home and another asked her about where she bought her couch set or something along those lines. I spoke up to introduce myself and say my name and she looked at me sideways with her eyes and said, ‘Just wait your turn,’ and she continued to talk to one of her female guests and laughed, while still ignoring my hand and me.
Without even being introduced and shaking hands with the hostess my friend and I just walked over to our spot in the living room while she apologized for her hostess friend saying that ‘She’s probably been very busy setting up her new home and she’ll have time to talk to everyone later on.’
After a few minutes of everyone chatting with each other the hostess’s husband, a very nice and quiet shy man whom I had met at the Sunday services only once before as the hostess’s husband tapped his glass with a spoon like a bell to get started. We all bowed our heads together in prayer and blessed the housewarming party and all who came and brought gifts then the hostess started her speeches and announcements and each guest had a chance to introduce herself and say one interesting fact about herself.
When it came to my turn, the hostess interrupted me and said, ‘We all know who you are, so let’s go on to the next guest,’ and she introduced herself before I could even finished saying my name. I stood there speechless but just smiled not knowing what to say. My friend who brought me just held my hand and smiled at me as if to calm me from being angry.
After introductions, the hostess offered a tour of her new home and we all followed her from room to room admiring all the decorations and evening complimenting her on all the amazing ecological things she pointed out, like the triple-layered windows that allowed the sun into heat up rooms and one-inch floor tiles that were made with recycled materials that helped to retain heat as well as her heating vents that allowed heat from her clothes dryer to be directed to other rooms and items like that. I asked some questions about various items out of curiosity and how they were ecological and my questions were completely ignored by the hostess who clearly was bothered by my questions or perhaps hearing my voice.
When I asked about what certain switches were for and other details the hostess politely reprimanded me saying, ‘Don’t touch anything,’ which she repeated again when she showed her ‘grey water’ recycling system for the toilets and for use in their garden and ‘greenhouse room’ that held many plants and had an indoor bed of vegetables growing under a large slanted window which made up much of that room’s wall that allowed sunlight in. The hostess’s husband quietly told me about what some of the switches were for and I was impressed by the ecological alternatives and money and energy-saving benefits with everything in the house.
Finally, it came to serving all the treats and food that we brought and gifts were opened and many of the women ‘awed and ummed’ when my sinful chocolate cake with hazelnut cream was placed on the dining room table near the living room and as gifts were being shown some of the women complimented on the new bread maker machine and said how they wanted to buy one. I knew that the hostess liked to bake things and bring them to church sales and fundraising events. When my friend who brought me mentioned that I brought the bread maker the hostess, snapped with a laugh, ‘Only a man would bring such a sexist gift. Not all women are destined to stay in the kitchen.’ I didn’t hear a ‘thank-you’ and the hostess’s husband spoke up and said how he loved all the varieties of bread that his own mom used to make and ‘how she’d add nuts, raisins or berries and even add coffee or tea to make wonderful flavors of bread.’ I simply ignored the insult and tried hard to not say anything since I was in her house and I didn’t feel it was my place to defend myself or argue.
As a gentleman, I let all the ladies be served first, whether it was cake or salad or chicken wings. When I was finally served I was really impressed with some blackened spicy chicken on skewers which I thought were really delicious and when I asked who ‘made these and what was put into the recipe’ the hostess, snapped so rudely, ‘If you don’t like it you can leave, we didn’t make this food just to feed you.’ I nearly choked and I tried to speak up about how much I liked the chicken skewers wanting to get the recipe so that I could make them at home (which I never had a chance to say) and the hostess snapped again, ‘Be quiet or leave.’ I was speechless and I started to fight back tears and the hostess’s husband quietly walked over and started to rub my shoulders and said, ‘How much he loved the chocolate cake that I brought over.’
I then grabbed the breadmaker still in the box unopened and I headed for the front door and where my jacket was in the front closet and the hostess yelled at me saying, ‘Put that back it’s not yours to take.’ I then turned around and yelled back, ‘Yes it is, I bought it and there’s no way in h*ll I’m spending $250 and taxes on an appliance for someone who has been so rude to me,’ and I grabbed my jacket with my friend following me as she apologized and tried to calm me down as we headed for the door with the hostess following me.
As walked out and down the pathway, to the sidewalk, the hostess yelled, ‘Don’t you ever come back here again, you’re not welcome in my home,’ I just turned and yelled back, ‘F*ck you and your home, I don’t know how you managed to get such a nice man to marry a vile b*tch like you but I hope he gets to keep this house when he finally divorces you,’ and then I left with my friend who was on the verge of tears.
I stopped attending the church on Sunday but did keep in touch with my friend and I didn’t know angry words were a prophecy of what was to come. The hostess’s husband divorced the b*tch after one year of marriage on grounds that she was abusive and at times nearly violent and she also had an affair with one of his co-workers who had been to his home on many occasions. The husband kept the house he designed and he wasn’t required to pay any alimony to his ex-wife either.
I hadn’t kept in touch with him but saw him years later in a shopping mall with a beautiful pregnant wife and his two kids and he was happy to see me again.
I later learned from my friend that the ex-wife was divorced a second time and she had been charged and tossed in jail for a few months for domestic violence and felony abuse. She was now working as a waitress in some hotel and had no access and lost the right to see her only daughter.
So, I guess it pays to be nice and mean people lose a lot more in the end.”
Yeah That Checks Out
“I had been volunteering for a certain agency. The holidays approached, and I was invited to an end-of-year thank-you party at a nearby home. The invitation gave an address in one of the top-ten wealthiest cities in the state.
The night of the gala I brought a few selections of beverages as it was a bring-your-own-beverage. I knew the street, having passed it many times, but never turned down it. It looked like someone’s driveway, but it opened up to an enclave of a few mansions—maybe 4 to six? These were not ‘McMansions.’ These were massive, hulking homes that had been built long ago, to last through earthquakes, and were so well-set into the ground and so well-landscaped that they appeared one with the Earth.
This, my friends, was Old Money.
I went in through a set of heavy double doors to a foyer that was as big as a skinny living room, which led to a second set of double doors with bevels set into them. The ceilings were immense; the massive stairway was open to a second floor. The house was fronted with enormous windows and window seats so large they were filled with twin mattresses for cushions.
I was told to place my beverages on a console table against one wall that was as big as a dining room table and hang my coat up in the closet under the stairs. The late 50-ish hostess asked us to come into the sunroom, which was the size and quality of a museum cafe. She gave a little speech, face glowing, about how wonderful this organization was, and how thankful she was to participate in it. The person I knew from that organization thanked her for having us.
We went down a 20-foot wide marble-tiled hallway to their dining room, again, as big as some small restaurants. There were multiple long, heavy, solid wood tables set with china. I had a forgettable meal and mostly listened to people talk around me. I’m shy at first, and if someone doesn’t speak to me, I won’t speak.
As the meal was over, there were some thank yous from the organization’s representatives, some prizes were given out, goals they had set for the next year, etc. After this finished, people stood around talking, but no one spoke to me. I was well-dressed and had my hair and makeup done, so it wasn’t like I was some homeless person who had wandered in. I decided to leave.
I exited and got my coat. The hostess was chatting with two women my age. I hung back and waited for a break in the conversation. As the other two women stepped back to go, I approached, smiled, held out my hand, and began to say, ‘I am leaving now, but I just wanted to say thank you for hosting this, and I had a wonderful time, Merry Christmas,’ or whatever, but I only got as far as, ‘I’m leaving now, but—’
She looked at me as if I was bat-shirt crazy. She threw her dyed-black head back, threw her hands in the air, over her head, and laughed hysterically.
‘Oh!’ she said when she could catch a breath. ‘I’ll never remember you!’
The two women she had just been speaking to turned their heads in unison to look at me. Their faces were aghast. I don’t know if they were horrified because of what I did, or because of what she did. One actually curled her lip. Their eyes bugged out as they stood gaping at me.
And so we stood there in this frozen tableau, me holding out my hand, shy to begin with and beyond mortified at this response, she with her arms over her head, looking at the ceiling, grinning, her eyes sparkling as if this was the greatest joke in the world, and the two other women with their eyes and mouths open, unable to look away.
I put my hand down and walked out.
OK, I know, I am not one of the 1%. If I was, she would have probably met me before. But I wasn’t thanking her in the hopes that she would remember me. I was thanking her because that’s what you do at the end of a party: you thank the host or hostess.
I guess money doesn’t buy manners.”
Was It Actually The Wine Doing The Talking?
“My husband’s friend, from childhood, and his wife invited us to their house for dinner. I was excited to go because I liked his wife and daughters, who were my son’s age. We got there and the wife took our coats and we all went to the kitchen where we had a glass of wine and the guys had a beer as we munched on some appetizers before we ordered pizzas to be delivered.
His wife, I noticed, was getting louder and louder with each glass of wine. She asked me what kind of pizza I liked and I told her simple cheese pizza is fine by me. She literally yelled at me, ‘What? Cheese?! Get something else.’ This is Australia and cheese or Margherita is really all I like and I politely told her this. Her husband says, ‘It’s ok…if she wants Margherita pizza…that is what we will get her.’ His wife just would not shut up about it.
As we got our pizzas delivered and started to eat she just kept throwing jabs at me. I was extremely uncomfortable. She wanted to know why I hadn’t gone on to have more children as our son was an only child. I explained that there were fraternal twins prior to our son, but I lost them. In my heart, I’ve always known they were a boy and a girl and I have quietly named them. Nathan and Caitlin. After my son was born we tried for three years. It hurt me that I could not conceive more children. I explained this to her and told her that I named them, she said in the most hateful tone, ‘Oh please….you don’t know they were a boy and a girl. You had no right to name them.’ I just looked at her and knew the wine was doing all of the talking because she was never like this to me.
She said the most hateful things to me while my husband and his friend chatted in the other room about the good old days. They were in there laughing and she was throwing digs at me, putting me down, talking about people we know. I was so uncomfortable that I was counting the seconds until we could leave.
By 9:30 pm I said, ‘Thank you so much for inviting us, but we need to be going and get our son to bed. We also have church in the morning.’ She didn’t like that at all. How dare I leave so early as the kids were happily playing and how dare I make my husband and son go to church on Sunday morning? It was all so crazy and none of her business.
My husband said, ‘We like to keep our son on a sleep schedule even on the weekends so it’s past his bedtime and we are in agreement about church. We go together.’ She didn’t say anything to him.
We said our goodbyes and when we got into the car I whispered to my husband, ‘I NEVER want to see her ever again.’ He asked what happened and I told him how badly she treated me.
That was 7 years ago and I’ve seen her husband here and there, but not her. He’s a nice guy and can come around any time, but she can get lost.”
You Can’t Choose Your Family
“I went to my niece Anna’s house for her 16th birthday. The group was small, just my brother and his wife, my niece and nephew, and a girl I will call Stacy, my niece’s age who lived with them (for the past year, due to her own family’s issues).
Throughout dinner, my SIL kept hugging Stacy and declaring loudly, ‘I love this girl. She is my favorite. I wish she was my daughter, not Anna.’
Yep. I tried calling her out, telling her she was being insensitive to her daughter at her daughter’s birthday party with no effect. I took my niece apart and apologized. She said, ‘I am used to it.’
Did I mention my SIL was on drugs?
We got through dinner and sat around chatting. I have another brother who is an alcoholic and has kids. I am estranged from him. I was very clear with him about 5 years earlier. I told him I would have a relationship with him and his family when he was sober.
SIL starts in with, ‘Well, Pete (the alcoholic) said you hate his kids and that’s why you don’t go over. You hate his kids. You were at [other brother’s] house yesterday, but you won’t see him. That is terrible. Have you no heart? How can you do that?’
This hit me like a stake in the heart. She knew why I was estranged from him.
I HATE not seeing my nephews. I loved visiting all my nieces and nephews, taking them to parks and museums, and such. I am a very involved aunt. The thought that they might be being told I hate them was terrible.
But I hated more the person telling me these lies.
I stopped her and said, ‘I know the only reason Pete would think I hate his kids is that you told him I did. He would not know I spent time with my other nieces and nephews (including details of birthday gifts and field trips) unless you told him. Well, if you wanted to upset me, congratulations, I am upset. I am so upset that I am never coming to your house again, and you will kindly never come to mine. Good night.’
And I held to this. My life was better without her in it, telling lies and being a drama queen.
I am quite close with her children, both adults now.
My brother got sober 12 years ago. We visit each other regularly and I talk to his kids all the time. They are 20 and 22 years old and they tell me they know why I was absent, and that their Dad tells them that my firm boundary is one of the reasons he got sober.”
