(Perhaps because of their age, my parents are the target of a lot of scam calls. Luckily they don’t fall for them, and my mom in particular enjoys messing with these callers. One day the phone rings and the caller ID reads, “Columbia University.” Already suspecting a scam, my mom picks up. A man with a strong Indian accent speaks.)

Scammer: “I am calling from Microsoft Windows; we are calling to inform you that there is a virus on your computer.”

Mom: “And you’re calling from Columbia University?”

Scammer: *a pause* “That is where I am calling from, yes.”

Mom: “Can you even spell Columbia?”

Scammer: *offended* “Of course I can!”

(And to my mom’s surprise he actually does. Or, well, attempts to.)

Scammer: “It’s C…” *very long pause* “O… L…*another long pause, and then he apparently gives up* “F*** YOU!” *slams the phone down*

(The school I work for holds its detentions after school by default, with a maximum of one hour per day, depending on the nature of the offence. I am answering the phone.)

Me: “Good morning, [School].”

Caller: “Who should I talk to concerning issues with my son? Is it his tutor?”

Me: *thinking this is going to be a bullying issue* “Depending on the circumstances, the first port of call would either be his tutor or his head of year. May I ask what the problem is, ma’am?”

Caller: “You see, my son was late yesterday, and he could’ve been on time today, and he decided that since he was hungry, so he went to [Fast Food Place] at [Local Station]. What’s more, I found out he has left his PE kit behind, so I want them to know that I demand that he gets an hour’s detention tonight.”

Me: *genuinely surprised* “Not a problem, ma’am; I will pass that on to his head of year.”

(I get so used to parents trying to get kids out of detention that it floors me when someone tells me they want their child to be penalised. I shared this with some teachers and they found it brilliant.)

(For the holidays, my mother always makes an apple pie from her grandmother’s recipe. It’s a completely lovely pie, but she’s made the same one every year for Thanksgiving and Christmas since long before I was born. One Christmas, my brother and I decide to get on her case and tease her about it, asking why she never makes any other variation.)

Brother: “You know, you could mix it up a little, and make something different for once.”

Mom: *sassy* “Oh, like what?”

Me: “I don’t know; try a different fruit. How about blueberry?”

Mom: “No one likes blueberry pie!” *meaning she doesn’t like it, therefore no one does*

Me: “Um, [Brother] does…”

Mom: “Oh, please…” *turns to the rest of the family gathered in the living room, not paying attention to our conversation* “Who here likes blueberry pie?”

(Everyone reacted positively, raising hands or shouting, “Me!” or, “I do!’ My elderly, schizophrenic uncle turned around in his chair and started to shakily struggle to stand up, wondrously crying out, “There’s blueberry pie?!” My brother and I cracked up as my mother rushed to stop my uncle from standing. She had to explain to him that there was no pie but apple, and promised to make him one next time. That moment was the most alert my uncle had been in years, and sadly, my mother never followed through on her promise to make him his pie.)

(I am in math class at college on the first day of the semester, quietly sitting in my seat. The professor comes in and begins reading off the attendance list. When he gets to me:)

Me: *casually* “Hey, Dad.”

Father: *sigh* “Go to the office and tell them you need a different math teacher.”

(I am visiting my grandparents, and all three of us are sitting down and talking about other family members. My grandma has just finished telling me about an incident that a cousin was involved in when she says this:)

Grandma: “I’m glad you and your sister were never troublemakers.”

Grandpa: *laughs* “Unlike [My Father].”

Me: *confused, as my dad is very mild-mannered* “Dad used to get into trouble?”

Grandma: “Oh, not intentionally. He was just always very…”

Grandpa: “Oblivious?”

Grandma: *nods* “Right. Like that time he was almost arrested for burglary.”

Me: *shocked* “How did he manage that?!”

Grandma: “Well, he used to walk down to the laundromat to do his laundry. But rather than taking the long route he would climb over walls and through people’s backyards.”

Grandpa: “So, eventually, someone notices a young guy running through yards carrying a bulging sack over his shoulder. They called the police and he was almost arrested, until they looked in the bag and saw only dirty clothes.”

Me: “Knowing him, I can see all of this happening.”