Unfiltered Story #270276

When I was a kid, my parents insisted on putting a ceiling fan in my room, and I hated it from the start. The ceiling was cracked right around the base, and it shook violently every time it was turned on.

I complained a lot and told my parents that I thought it was going to fall on me, but they thought I was overreacting. I was a whiny complainer at that age, so I guess this was a ‘Cassandra truth’ kind of thing. I also hated them going into my room, so they wouldn’t even when I asked them to go and look.

One day, I had my door open and the ceiling fan on (reluctantly) because it was hot and musty. Coincidentally, my mother had a friend over that day. When they passed my room, she decided to introduce us. He took one look at that ceiling fan wobbling precariously and told my mother he was shocked that it hadn’t fallen on me yet.

I looked my mother in the eye and said “Now do you believe me?” She called someone to get it fixed as soon as she could.