(My dad is a teenager, watching live news coverage of the moon landing. The coverage then shows a split screen with President Nixon in the Oval Office picking up his phone to call the astronauts. At the exact moment, his home phone rings. As he goes to pick it up, my grandma yells:)
Grandma: “Tell them that this isn’t the moon!”
(My friend is asexual and has a pencil case that he treats like a son. My parents both know this, so while I’m doing some science revision…)
Dad: “Now, how does this reproduce?”
Me: “I can’t remember! Can you give me a hint?”
Dad: “Think about how [Friend] created [Pencil Case].”
Me: “It’s asexual reproduction, isn’t it?”
(I am helping my mother do some shopping at our local supermarket. One of the items on our list is cat food. Frequently, my mother makes a comment to someone — customer or employee — that are looking at or dealing with the cat food display asking how come they haven’t made sparrow flavour. In this instance, an employee is restocking the cat food shelves. My mum is picking up a selection of our usual brand. When she speaks, it’s clear she’s joking.)
Mum: “I wonder when they’re going to make sparrow flavour?”
Employee: *genuinely confused and thinking she’s serious* “Sparrow flavour? I don’t think we have that. What brand is it? [Brand Mum just picked up]? I don’t think it’s in yet. I only work here two days a week.”
Mum: “Never mind.”
(We walked away and stopped a few aisles away. We look at each other for a second. I couldn’t help laughing; I couldn’t comprehend not getting the joke.)
(I am laid off from my job and move back in with my parents while I sort things out. I manage to find a new position in good time. However, the following talk still occurs every so often.)
Parents: “Did you get in trouble at your last job? Like, were you late or anything?”
Me: “No, I did everything I was supposed to.”
Parents: “So, how come they let you go?”
Me: “I already told you: they were downsizing and I was one of the few people they laid off.”
Parents: “If you say so. We’re just trying to figure out what you did.”
(I didn’t do anything. My old company had to cut costs somewhere, and I, unfortunately, was a part of it. For some reason, the idea that a bad thing could happen to me for reasons beyond my control is a completely alien concept to them. My dad keeps telling everyone that I must’ve done something for them to let me go. Thanks. That REALLY helps my self-esteem.)
(I work at an adult store which only allows people 18 years or older to enter. This does not stop parents from trying to bring their kids in with them. I see a woman trying to push a stroller into my store.)
Me: “Ma’am, I’m afraid we don’t allow anyone under 18 in this store.”
Woman: “Oh! I know; I’m actually 36. I just look young.”
Me: “I was talking about the baby.”
Woman: *suddenly furious* “What?! This is my kid; I give her permission to be in here.”
Me: “It doesn’t work like that. If she’s not 18 she can’t come in.”
Woman: “Why not?! She doesn’t know what any of this is, anyway!”
Me: “Doesn’t matter. I’m going to have to ask you to leave.”
Woman: “This is unfair! I am a paying customer; you can’t treat me like this. I’ll have you arrested!”
Me: *now annoyed* “Do it.”
Woman: “Wh-what?”
Me: “I dare you. Call the cops right now. Actually, I’ll do it for you. Then you can explain to the police why you were trying to bring a minor into an adult store. So, then, when you try to explain that it’s your own child, you can then explain to Child Protective Services why you feel it’s okay to expose your child to adult-themed objects at an infant’s age.”
Woman: “That’s not what I’m doing at all! I just want to buy some stuff for myself.”
Me: “No, I’m refusing you service. Please leave my store. You can also tell your sob story to the cop that’s standing just outside the door, who watched this whole exchange.”
