The Fake Race Was Won With Alternative Facts

| England, UK | Parents & Guardians

(One afternoon my parents and I are watching Formula 1 on TV. The camera switches to an onboard shot of one of the drivers. My mum has barely paid any attention to the race, suddenly her eyes go wide and she starts pointing.)


(My dad and me shoot her a really weird look and expect this to be a joke, then it dawns on us that she is serious.)

Me: “What are you talking about?

Mum: “That shot — it’s fake!”

Me: “Mum, that’s an onboard camera shot. It’s clearly real.”

Mum: “Nonsense. That’s a clip from a video game!”

Me: “Even the best video games don’t look as realistic as that. It’s not fake.”

Mum: “Oh, yes it is! Look at it. It’s clearly a fake!”

(The TV switches to the same shot again — my mum begins pointing again.)

Mum: “THERE, LOOK! That’s a video game clip. They’re lying to people!”

Me: “For Christ’s sake, mum, that looks nothing like a video game! Just leave it.”

Mum: “But that’s fake.”

Me: “How would you know? You never play video games!”

Mum: “Because I know what I know and—“

Dad: *interrupting* “Oh, shut up, [Mum]!”

(Thankfully she was quiet for the rest of the race and since then there have been no further F1 conspiracies theories.)

On Track For Entitlement

| FL, USA | Siblings

(This was in the early ‘80s when track-suits were the rage. My younger sister starts community college and needs one for gym.)

Sister: “I need a track suit for gym, but I’m broke.”

Me: “Don’t worry I’ll buy you one.”

Sister: “I can’t decide between these two track-suits. I guess I’ll pay for the second one myself.”

Me: “…”

A Bird On Your Phone Is Worth Two In The Bush

| USA | Siblings

(I have just moved in with my dad, my brother, and my dad’s new wife, whom I don’t know very well. We’re sitting down having breakfast when I hear a bird whistle very clearly. Our house is near some woods so I think it’s a wild bird.)

Me: “Huh, is that a bird? Birds are very common here.”

(No one says anything, just continue eating and looking through their phones. A few minutes pass and I hear it again.)

Me: “Wonder what kind of bird was that. I’m curious.”

Brother: *finally looks at me like I’m stupid* “That was [Dad’s Wife]’s phone! It has a new message!”

Me: “Oh! Well it sounded like a bird call.”

(I felt stupid.)

Owning A Smart Phone Requires Smarts

| Northbrook, IL, USA | Sons & Daughters

(Our store is WHITE, as in, BRIGHT WHITE, so as to accent the products we sell. A group of three or four kids come in on a busy Friday night, and proceed to mess around with the store. They finally pay for their items and leave. I notice, a few minutes later, that one of them left their phone on our counter. It’s a rather large BLACK phone, on a WHITE counter. Kid must not have been paying attention at all. It’s kind of a fancy phone, too, and because I had just recently gotten my first smartphone, I was protective about it, and didn’t want the kid to lose his. I tell my manager and coworkers and leave the phone behind the registers, in case he comes back. About twenty minutes go by and the kid hasn’t returned. I ask my manager if I could possibly call a parent from the phone, and he gives the okay. I turn the phone on, and there are several missed calls from the mother. I decide to call her back.)


Me: “Ma’am.”


Me: “Ma’am, my name is [My Name] and I’m calling from [Store]. I’m just calling to let you know your son left his phone in our store and hasn’t been back to pick it up.”

Mother: “Wait, what? He left his phone in your… How did he do that?”

Me: “I’m not sure, ma’am, but he was with a group.”

Mother: “Well, how did he do that? That phone was his responsibility!”

Me: “Ma’am, if you know any of his friends, or their numbers, I could call and let them know—”

Mother: “No, no, he was out with friends. I don’t know any of his friends’ names or phone numbers… God, you’d think the kid would… You know what? My daughter is out with her own friends there, too, and I’ll let her know to pick up the phone. Would that work?”

Me: “That would be fine, ma’am—”

Mother: “Okay, great, thanks so much. You’ve been a real help. Bye!”

Me: “Wait, wait, wait, MA’AM, can I get a description of your daughter so I know who to give the phone to?”

Mother: “Oh, yes, yes, of course! She has long reddish hair and looks just like her brother.”

(Note: I have no idea who this kid is. He was with a group, and frankly, all kids look about the same to me.)

Me: “Great… thanks.”

(Not ten minutes later a girl walks in with her friends. She has reddish hair, and indeed looks familiar. She’s smirking.)

Daughter: “Hey, I’m here to pick up my brother’s phone?”

Me: “Oh, yes, thanks. Here you go.”

Daughter: “You know, that’s the second time he’s done that tonight. No more phone privileges for him!”

He Read About It In A Magazine

| UK | LGTBQ, Parents & Guardians

(I came out as gay a few months ago. While most of my family were fine with it, my dad wasn’t too keen. He wasn’t hostile about it, but he did get this idea in his head that he could “turn me back.” I come home from school one afternoon to find porn magazines on my bed, tailored towards straight men — there was at least £50 worth all laid out. I sneer at them as my dad comes into the room.)

Dad: “So? Has it worked?”

Me: “Yup. I guess I’m straight now. Yum, p***y!”

(My dad didn’t take it well, but I got a good laugh out of the reaction. That was five years ago. We don’t talk much now, but he’s come around a bit since then.)