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Hopefully Something Will Happen That Serves Her Right

| Winnipeg, MB, Canada | Distant Relatives

(My husband’s grandmother is celebrating her 80th birthday. My mother-in-law decides to hold an afternoon tea for her in the local community club. I am drafted to pour coffee and tea for the guests. All of the guests are either friends or family whom I’ve met before. One woman, whom I’ll call Olga, is a distant cousin whom I’d spoken to briefly at a couple of other family gatherings.)

Me: *standing next to Olga’s table with a fresh pot of coffee* “Hi there! Would you like—”

Olga: *ignores me, keeps talking to her friends*

Me: “Um… can I pour you—”

Olga: *ignores me, keeps talking*

Friend: *takes pity on me and nudges Olga to get her to stop talking for a minute*

Olga: *glaring at me* “WHAT? WHAT DO YOU WANT?”

Me: “…Would you like some more coffee?”

Olga: “NO!” *goes back to her conversation*

(I’ve never been a server, and after that experience, I never plan to be. I feel sorry for any real server who encounters Olga, if that’s the way she treats family members.)

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Time To Essay The Situation

| Staten Island, NY, USA | Children, Sons & Daughters

(I am picking my two sons from school, aged six and eight. My eight-year-old comes out strutting like a peacock. I have to know what’s up with all the annoying swagger.)

Eight-Year-Old: *proudly* “I just said ‘NO’ to two girls without hurting their feelings.”

Me: “You said ‘NO’ to what?!”

Eight-Year-Old: “One girl said she should be my girlfriend; another girl said she should be my girlfriend. They argued, so I said, ‘Write me a 300-word essay why you should be my girlfriend. Best essay wins.’”

Me: “You could’ve just said, ‘No, thanks. I’m only eight. Ask me again when I’m thirty!’”

Eight-Year-Old: “Can’t say that. I have manners now.”

(I think, “since when did this punk acquire good manners?”)

Me: “What if one girl writes a great essay? Or both of them?”

Eight-Year-Old: “They’re only eight. They can’t even write a fifty-word essay. See what I mean?”

Me: “No, I’m not seeing anything.”

Eight-Year-Old: “I didn’t actually reject them. Can’t write the essay, can’t be my girlfriend. They hate themselves because they can’t write the essay, but they don’t hate me.”

Me: “Why do you care if they hate you?”

Eight-Year-Old: “Because angry girls are crazy and scary.”

Six-Year-Old: *breaking his silence* “You should see yourself when you’re angry, Momzilla!”

Me: “What planet are you guys from?”

Eight-Year-Old: “From Planet Uterus!”

Six-Year-Old: “We came out of your own loins!”

Me: “Oh. My. God.”

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Old People Go Down Hardcore

| Seattle, WA, USA | Grandparents

(I work at a convenience store and overhear this conversation:)

Woman: “Grandma, why are you voting for Trump?!”

Grandma: “If I go down, America is going with me!”

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