(My mom has anxiety issues when it comes to things going according to plan, and she loses perspective on the feelings of others and becomes incredibly inflexible. My dad never helps her clean the house — particularly when they are having company — because according to her, he can never do it the “right” way. She also becomes very controlling and irrationally afraid that any action we take that’s outside of her direction will somehow create lots more work for her. It is the day before Thanksgiving and I am sixteen years old. I get home from school and dutifully make sure my room is clean. When everything is sorted, I decide I need to empty my very full clothes hamper. My mom is in the living room and sees me dragging my clothes hamper past her.)

Mom: *alarmed* “What are you doing?”

Me: “I’m getting my laundry done tonight.”

Mom: “No! You’re not doing laundry now. I spent all day folding clothes and towels and I’m not going to have you mess up the laundry room the day before Thanksgiving!”

Me: “How the heck is me washing and drying my clothes and then bringing them back to my room going to ‘mess up’ the laundry room?”

Mom: *angrily* “I have too much to worry about tomorrow to deal with this; you’ll have to wait to do laundry until after Thanksgiving.”

Me: “Me washing my clothes isn’t going to affect you in any way.”

Mom: “You’re not messing up the laundry room THE DAY BEFORE THANKSGIVING! Stop ARGUING WITH ME!”

(I realized I was not going to win this one, so I dragged my hamper back into my bathroom and tried to stuff the clothes down so I could at least get it to close. The next day, Mom was frustrated with the limited selection of clean shirts I had.)

(I’m attending my local parent and baby group when a new mum arrives and sits next to me. We’re making polite conversation.)

New Mum: “Any plans for the rest of the week?”

Me: “Vaccinations are tomorrow, so I don’t think we’ll get much more done after that.”

New Mum: “Oh, I don’t believe in vaccinations.”

Me: *thinking, “Here we go,” and waiting for a lecture* “Oh, right.”

New Mum: “But I don’t think less of anyone who gets them. I even understand why you’d get them. I just don’t want to take any risks with autism. Anyway, your baby is lovely. How old is he?”

Me: *surprised that she’s not insane* “She’s a girl actually and she’s four months old.”

New Mum: “But you’ve dressed her in such boyish clothes.”

Me: “I’d say gender-neutral rather than boyish. It’s only jeans and a jumper, basically the same as I’m wearing.”

New Mum: “You shouldn’t dress her like that. She’s going to grow up confused and won’t know if she’s a boy or a girl. It’s really not fair of you to force your beliefs on her.”

(At this point, I realise she is crazy and a hypocrite, so I politely turn to the woman on my other side and start speaking to her, instead. The New Mum starts speaking to someone else and I mostly tune her out until she says this:)

New Mum: “Oh, I don’t give my son any toys. I don’t want him to become emotionally invested in material items.”

(Yep, definitely crazy.)

(When my boyfriend and I start dating, he warns me that his mother is notorious for twisting things to suit her point of view. I have no idea how serious he is until I start hanging out at their house regularly. When I offer to cook dinner one night, she asks if I think she is incapable of feeding her own children. When she mentions hiring a babysitter, I offer to do it for free; she asks if I think she is looking for handouts. Finally, I just stop offering to do anything. One day, I am visiting my boyfriend and his family and they decide to go on a hike. I have asthma so I am a little worried, but I have my inhaler and everyone assures me it is an easy hike. This is a lie. It is six miles up a mountain and the humidity is so high, I have to stop to catch my breath several times. The last time I stop, my boyfriend goes ahead with his siblings and his mother stays behind with me. I am not happy about that arrangement to begin with, but when she starts talking, it gets worse.)

Mother: “Why do you do that?”

Me: “Do what?”

Mother: “Do whatever you think other people want you to do.”

Me: “Um… I just try to be helpful.”

Mother: “By undermining my parenting? How is that helpful?”

Me: “Undermining?”

Mother: “Offering to cook, doing the dishes, brushing [Youngest Girl]’s hair after her shower. You’re a suck-up and I don’t like it.”

Me: *still confused* “Oh… okay. I wasn’t trying to suck up, just… be helpful.”

Mother: “Well, you weren’t. And I don’t like your attitude, either.”

Me: “My attitude?”

Mother: “Yes. When you disagree with me. You’re welcome to have your own opinion, but you should keep it to yourself.”

Me: “I don’t… What did I say?”

Mother: “You openly disagree with me in front of my children, and then they think it’s okay to disagree with me, too!”

Me: “But I don’t understand. When did I disagree with you?”

Mother: “It doesn’t matter what it was about!”

Me: “I didn’t mean to undermine you or disagree with you. Can you give me an example so I can work on it?”

Mother: “I shouldn’t have to! It’s so simple! Don’t disagree with me! Do you know what [My Boyfriend] said the other day?”

Me: “Um… no?”

Mother: “He told me you two went out for sushi and miso soup.”

Me: “Yeah…?”

Mother: “Miso soup has soy! Soy makes boys gay! I told him he couldn’t eat soy products because it makes boys gay and he told me that you said it wasn’t true.”

Me: “Well, he’s not gay so… maybe it’s not.”

Mother: “That’s not the point!”

Me: “Wait. You use soy sauce all the time.”

Mother: “See?! Again, you’re just arguing with me!”

Me: *annoyed and sarcastic* “Okay. So, don’t be helpful, and don’t think for myself. Anything else?”

Mother: “Don’t be such a b****.”

Me: *stunned* “Wow. I can’t even… Really? Did you just call me a b****?”

Mother: *shrugs* “If it quacks like a duck, it must be a duck.”

Me: “Okay. I’m going to go back to the bottom now.”

Mother: “I knew you couldn’t do this hike. Pity, too, because the view from the top is beautiful.”

Me: “Nope. Can’t do it. I might have my own thoughts and decide to shove someone off a cliff.”

(I went back down and, as we all drove together, waited for them to return. While I was gone, the mother told my boyfriend about our conversation and how rude I was the whole time. I told him my side of the story and he rolled his eyes. He told me to just ignore her antics. We were together for a few more months, but we eventually broke up because I just couldn’t stand his mother anymore. Her tirades kept getting worse and she soon started attacking my family — even though she had never met them — for raising me the way they did. He hates me now, of course, because I didn’t break up with him for something he did. I felt awful for doing it but I couldn’t see myself spending the rest of my life listening to her talk to me like that.)

(My wife and I are waiting at a well-known theme park in Florida. There is a family beside us — a father, mother, and two teenage daughters. Everyone is waiting for the rope drop when we overhear the following exchange between the father and one of the teenage daughters.)

Teenage Daughter: “Ooh, I can’t wait to go on the rides. I’m not going on any of the scary rides.”

Father: “We’re going on all the rides.”

Teenage Daughter: “Not the scary ones.”

Father: “We’re going on all the rides.”

Teenage Daughter: “No, I’m not going on anything scary.”

Father: “You begged me to come here. I paid 800 f****** dollars for these tickets. You’re going on every f****** ride.”

Teenage Daughter: *now nearly crying* “But I don’t want to go on the scary ones.”

Father: *glaring* “Every f****** ride!”

(Welcome to the happiest place on earth.)

(During my school holidays, I work for a while in the library of a combined elementary and middle school. This particular school is very near the town’s library. Our books and theirs are all clearly labelled with the respective institution names. However, we frequently get students returning the town library’s books to us and vice versa. The school’s policy is to not help them to return it to the town library, so that they will learn not to make this mistake. I’m used to it, as they’re kids, and they usually get it after a simple explanation. And then, you get this:)

Parent: “My son got a call from the library saying they still owe books, but he returned them all last week!”

(The school does not call to chase for books; we have a more relaxed policy and don’t even fine for overdue books. The mention of the call is enough for me, but most customers aren’t satisfied until you actually show them the record.)

Me: “Okay, let me check the system.” *pulls up the record* “Ma’am, the system shows that he doesn’t have any books on loan.”

Parent: “Yes, they’re from the town library.”

Me: “Oh, in that case, you need to call them to check with them.”

Parent: “But he returned it! I was waiting downstairs; he said he was going to run to the library and drop them in the book drop.” *points to our book drop*

Me: “He returned the town library’s books here?”

Parent: “Yes! So, why are there still books on his account?!”

Me: “Ma’am, our system is different from the town library’s system. He cannot return their books here, or vice-versa.”

Parent: “Yes, he can! My son said he can!”

Me: “Sorry, ma’am, he may put the books into our book drop, but if we scan it, it won’t be found in our system record. We will see that it’s not one of ours and put it aside for the student to come back to collect it.”

Parent: “Why didn’t you inform us?”

Me: “We do not have any record of which student borrowed the book.”

Parent: “But he borrowed it; it should show his name!”

Me: *patiently* “But our system is different from the town library’s; it will not show the name of the person who borrowed it.”

(The parent keeps this up for some time. I’m trying my best to explain it patiently, but she doesn’t get it. The elementary school students understand this better than she does! I end up using the dumbed-down parallel I give to the younger students.)

Me: “It’s just like if you go [Famous Fast Food Chain]; you cannot buy a [Rival Chain’s Signature Burger] because they are different stores.”

Parent: “You must have the book on the shelf. You can check the shelf and see that he did return it!”

(I check the cupboard where we keep the town library’s books that have ended up in our book-drop, but we do not have the title that the parent mentioned.)

Me: “Sorry, ma’am, we don’t have it. Are you sure he returned it here?”

Parent: “Yes, he did. Why won’t you believe me?” *points insistently at our book-drop* “I’ll get him to come and prove it!”

Me: “Okay, you can ask him to come by.”

(Would you believe it, some days later, the parent comes back again. This time, she has complained to the school office, who apparently was finally able to get through to her that our library systems are different.)

Parent: “My son returned the town library’s books here. Do you have them?”

Me: *checking to see if they have been found over the last few days* “Yes, here you go.”

Parent: “The person who called me said there’s a fine for overdue books.”

Me: “You’ll have to check with the town library, as [School]’s library does not implement a fine for late returns.”

Parent: “But it’s not fair! We shouldn’t have to pay a fine!”

Me: “Sorry, I have no control over that.” 

(I have a feeling I know what’s coming. Sure enough, she delivers.)

Parent: “No, I shouldn’t have to pay! My son returned it here!” *points petulantly to our book drop* “How can you charge me when I returned it here?!”

Me: *facepalm* 

(I mean, I can excuse a kid for not being able to tell the difference, but this is an adult in her forties!)