My father has two younger siblings: a brother and a sister. They, and especially my uncle’s family, are selfish, entitled, and greedy. I could tell lots of stories.

As I can’t find a job, let alone one that lets me live on my own, I’ve been living with my parents and working at my dad’s company off and on for over a decade. Despite not wanting the entire family working for him, he hired my aunt last year. I tried to tell him it would be a disaster and it has been — mostly for me, since I handle the admin.

Our first professional communication is almost two weeks after my aunt is hired when she calls about her tax forms, etc. With hardly a hello, she launches in.

Aunt: “This must be a [Past President] thing! I can’t believe I have to fill out all these forms! “

Me: “They’ve been like this since I was in college; everyone has to fill them out.”

Aunt: “I don’t want to! They don’t need to know my address!”

Me: “They already do.”

On and on she goes.

Almost a month after she is hired, and after weeks of reminding her to fill out her health insurance forms, I get another call.

Aunt: “I don’t want them to know my social security number!”

Me: “They need it to process your application. You had to give it to them for the insurance you had before.”

Aunt: “They shouldn’t have it! It’s none of their business!”

Me: “Then you can talk to them. My talking to them won’t do any good, since it’s your application.”

Aunt: “I don’t have time for that. I’m too busy!”

Me: “Then it won’t get processed. I can’t do anything about it.”

This continues for a good half an hour. Finally:

Aunt: “How are you going to send it?”

Me: “Email or fax.”

Aunt: “I don’t want you to do that! Anybody could read it!”

Me: “They have a mailing address. Would you prefer that?”

Aunt: “No.”

Me: “Then what do you want me to do?”

Aunt: “I don’t know! Just fax it in!”

I remind her every day for weeks via chat — her family never answers the phone — to fill out and sign the form so I can send it in. Finally:

Aunt: “Oh, you wanted me to fill these out?”

Me: “Yes, I’ve been reminding you for weeks.”

Aunt: “I didn’t see your messages.”

Me: “You replied to a few of them.”

She eventually does it, but as it’s been over a month since her hire date, they won’t take her. We file an appeal, which I tell Dad no other company would do and it’s a waste of my time. And even if they did, without her SSN, they won’t process the application. She refuses to talk to them, so I waste more time. Ultimately, she doesn’t have insurance for months.

Tax time rolls around a few months later. She has a six-figure salary while Dad hasn’t had a salary since starting the company because we never make enough. I only work part-time and earn not quite twice minimum wage.

Aunt: “I can’t believe how much tax I’m paying!”

Me: “You’re earning six figures.”

Aunt: “But the taxes are so high!”

Me: “You have this salary, plus an IRA from this job and your old job.”

Aunt: “But I pay so much in taxes!”

Me: “You pay twice in taxes than I earn, never mind what you get to take home.”

Aunt: “I never got any alimony in the divorce and I need retirement money.”

I try futilely to explain that this is not the sort of thing you should tell your HR and to shut up. She keeps going. I lose it.

Me: “Between your IRA and salary, you’re still taking home six to seven times minimum wage. You have more in your IRAs combined than anyone making minimum wage would in their lifetime. I won’t ever see even half your salary.”

Aunt: “But the taxes!”

I could go on and on. She’s been working with us for a year and a half. She has never turned in her timesheets on time and they are now months late. Dad reminds her daily to turn them in but otherwise does nothing, despite my pointing out how unprofessional and against company policy her behaviour is. She still gets paid her full salary. And he even gets mad at me for pointing all this out. Guess it’s not my problem when we can’t file taxes on time.

I am fixing my aunt’s computer:

Aunt: “I don’t need internet plugged in, I have the whole internet on a disk!”

Me: “The whole internet?”

Aunt: “Yes!”

My uncle is very sweet, but sometimes I’m not 100% sure how his thought processes work. My birthday is coming up, and today I got a letter-sized envelope from him in the mail. Inside, stacked on top of each other, were:

1) a small gift card, which would easily fit inside a greeting card;

2) a birthday card (folded in half to fit into the envelope);

3) a taller, narrower envelope, perfectly sized for the birthday card, clearly bought with the birthday card, and also folded in half to fit into the letter-sized envelope. 

I can’t figure out why he didn’t use the birthday card’s envelope; the gift card was nowhere near big enough to keep it from fitting, and he wouldn’t have had to fold the birthday card. But even if he did have a reason for wanting to use the letter-sized envelope, why did he send me the one that came with the birthday card?

I’m at a large family reunion at a cabin owned by some extended family. Obviously, not everyone there knows everyone else well, since the relationships go back to my great-grandparents’ generation.

[Cousin #1], her brother [Cousin #2], and I are in the kitchen. [Cousin #1] has deputized her brother and me to squeeze limes and chop garlic; she herself is working steadily through a large pile of avocados, taking the pits out by slicing a knife into them and twisting them. 

One of my aunts from another branch of the family, who doesn’t know my cousins, is a notorious busybody. She can never resist telling everyone exactly what she thinks without asking herself if that’s a good idea. She comes in, sees the situation, and makes a beeline right for us just as [Cousin #1] is moving the knife toward an avocado pit.

[Aunt] grabs [Cousin #1] suddenly and jerks her arm.

Aunt: “Stop!”

Cousin #1: “Aaaagh!”

She drops the knife — luckily onto the counter — and grabs at her left hand; I see blood. She whirls on [Aunt]. [Cousin #1] is about five-foot-nothing and has a bit of a babyface, but she has an extremely loud voice.

Cousin #1: “Jesus Christ, what the f***?!”

It’s the first time I’ve seen [Aunt] speechless even for a second.

Cousin #1: “What is wrong with you?! Do not sneak up like that! I could have cut my g**d*** fingers off, you idiot!”

Aunt: “I was trying to tell you not to cut the avocados like that. You could have hurt yourself!”

Cousin #1: “So, you decided to grab me from behind while I was moving a knife?! Yeah, that’s really safe! Whatever happened to ‘excuse me,’ huh? Get out of my way. I need a bandaid — if I don’t need stitches. [Cousin #2], finish the guacamole. And you, dumba**, out of my kitchen!”

She storms past us towards the bathroom. [Aunt], of course, doesn’t leave.

Aunt: “There’s no reason to be rude! I was just trying to help.”

Cousin #2: “That was pretty mild for [Cousin #1].”

Me: “Yeah, I think she only used the F word once. And she doesn’t need your help. She’s a professional chef; she knows what she’s doing.”

Aunt: “I would never let one of my children do that.”

Cousin #2: “She’s not a child; she’s twenty-eight.”

Realizing she wasn’t going to get any sympathy from either of us, [Aunt] finally left. I later found out that she tracked down my cousins’ father and complained to him about his daughter’s behaviour… and then learned where exactly [Cousin #1] had learned not to suffer fools as he bellowed at [Aunt] that it was her fault his precious jewel got hurt. 

I don’t know if [Aunt] has learned to stop butting in all over the place, but she may have learned to choose her targets better.

My uncle has a large plot of land that is mostly left wild because he struggles to keep it maintained. I go over a few times a year to help out.

Me: “That fence in the corner is broken again.”

Uncle: “Well, you did only bodge it back together.”

Me: “No, remember, I was going to do a temporary fix. But then I found some more wood so I did it properly.”

Uncle: “Weird. Could you fix it again and see if you can reinforce it somehow?”

Me: “I can have a look, but you should really consider planting those thorny plants I suggested.”

Uncle: “I doubt anyone is breaking it on purpose; there’s nothing there. It’s a dead end. Just some bad luck.”

Me: “Okay, but buy some plants anyway.”

I fix the fence and I do a good job of it. No way can anyone accidentally break it this time. My uncle buys the plants and, to be fair to him, he actually gets some large mature ones. 

I don’t plant them right near the fence, in case someone were to cut them back. Instead, I put them just out of sight. Even with gloves and a thick jacket, I’m covered in scratches.

It takes me all day, but I get it done. I finish the day by nailing a no entry/no public access sign to the fence and call it quits.

It’s a few months until I go back, and my uncle is standing there with a smile on his face.

Uncle: “You will never guess what happened.”

Me: “What?”

Uncle: “The fence is broken again; someone must have taken a sledgehammer to it.”

Me: “Why are you smiling, then?”

Uncle: “Because they are trying to sue me for it!”

Me: “That still doesn’t explain the smile.”

He hands me the letter. In it, they admit to damaging the fence all three times, and they make note of the sign and not asking for access. They incorrectly ramble on about public access. The wording is frantic and seems to frame the writer as some sort of hero of the people. It ends with a threat of legal action and the name of a solicitor.

Uncle: “[Solicitor] already called me, and I have another phone call this afternoon. I can’t wait to go over the details with him.”

The phone call went ahead. It didn’t take long for the solicitor to understand that their client had not only broken the law but had admitted it, too. Eventually — and after several legal threats — they had to pay for all the damages, my time, and the plants for the fence. We didn’t get any more break-ins after that.