I’ve been invited to my boyfriend’s place for dinner. I’ve met his mom before but not his father or brothers. I arrive a bit before dinner and see a scene of carnage. The parents are out, and the younger brother is throwing a tantrum.

I’ve been warned that he has anger management issues and severely destructive tantrums, but I always assumed my boyfriend was exaggerating. He wasn’t. In fact, he was understating.

For the record, my boyfriend and I are nineteen, his older brother is twenty, and his younger brother is ten.

Boyfriend: “Hey, [My Name]! Glad you could make it.”

He nonchalantly dodges a thrown book without even looking.

Boyfriend: “Sorry for the mess. [Younger Brother] isn’t allowed to play on his phone.”

He shields me from a thrown pillow.

Boyfriend: “So he’s throwing a tantrum.”

He stops a rolling trash bin with his foot.

Boyfriend: “Literally.”

The oldest brother catches a thrown book and uses it to deflect another three projectiles. 

Older Brother: “Yeah, just wait until our parents get back. They’ll deal with him.”

He sidesteps a flying pair of scissors.

Older Brother: “Hey, [Younger Brother]! No throwing sharp objects!”

Younger Brother: “F*** you, b****!” 

He throws more stuff at us.

I’m rather stunned, but we sit down on the sofa and begin making small talk, the two older brothers utterly nonchalant about the whole thing. They completely protect me from all projectiles, casually blocking and catching anything thrown in our direction, all without really paying attention.

The parents eventually came home and basically let the younger brother off with a slap on the wrist, to the clear disgust of his older brothers.

We then had a pleasant dinner and a really enjoyable time. But the main takeaway I got from the dinner was how used to the younger brother’s tantrums the older duo was that they could defend me without even paying attention. I guess “seen it all” really applies here.

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Sounds Like A Supervillain Origin Story

I used to work at a grocery store but got a different job and left. I’m still on good terms with everybody there, so when I go in I chat with them. The store also has a sub station that my family loves.

One evening, we’re feeling lazy, so I offer to go to the store to get subs and milk since we’re out. I place my sub order online since that’s the easiest way to make sure everyone gets what they want on their sub. My brother and I have the same base sub, but they’re on different kinds of bread and I have more toppings on mine. My dad has a completely different kind of sub but the same kind of bread as my brother.

Once I get home, I realize they gave me the wrong kind of bread on my sandwich. It’s not the end of the world, but I don’t particularly like that kind of bread. Having worked there, I know what a formal complaint does at the store level, but I also don’t want to just ignore it, so I decide to call the store and explain what happened.

Brother: “You’re really going to complain?”

Me: “Yes, they messed up my order.”

Brother: “Entitled.”

Me: “It’s not being entitled to inform them of a problem so they can be mindful in the future.”

Brother: “No, you’re being full-blown entitled. You complained to someone yesterday and you’re doing it again today!”

Me: “You mean when I ordered breakfast and my food was left off the order because of an app issue?”

Brother: “Yes!”

Me: “That’s different. That was a technical issue.”

Brother: “Don’t complain over nothing.”

Me: “They messed up my order!”

Brother: “Deal with it.”

Mom: “[Brother], imagine if they put onions on your sub. How would you feel?”

Brother: “I’d just pick them off or give it to Dad.”

Me: “What if they gave you Italian seasonings because I had Italian seasonings on mine?”

Brother: “I’d throw it away, but I wouldn’t complain.”

I walk away and call the store. The manager picks up and I explain what happened and that I’m not mad; I just want them to be more careful in the future. She says she’ll talk to them and offers me a free sub in the future.

Me: “[Manager] offered me a free sub. I probably won’t take it, to be honest.”

Brother: “Entitled.”

I tried to eat the sub as intended, but I ended up just picking out the meat and toppings and throwing away about half of the bread.

I am five years old. My little sister is two. My paternal grandfather has just died of a heart attack and we are attending his funeral. I spend the majority of the funeral in another room with my maternal grandmother, overwhelmed. My sister, on the other hand, is being held by my father, who is standing by the coffin.

As people file past to pay their respects, she delivers this gem. She keeps pointing at the coffin, addressing each person who passes.

Sister: “That’s my grandpa. He’s dead!”

It is a regular weekday. I’m off work and running some errands. My first stop is the pharmacy. The pharmacist is an elderly, very white, very stereotypical German-looking lady.

Pharmacist: “Namasté!”

Next, I’m in the drive-thru of a well-known fast food chain.

Server: “All hail! What doest thou desire, fair lady?”

When I’m grocery shopping…

Cashier: “What’s the scene, jellybean?”

At the gas station:

Cashier: “Ahoy! Pump three?”

And finally, when I get home… 

Brother: “So we meet again…” *Creepy laugh* “It is time to d-d-d-d-duel!”

My sister, older by four years, has always looked younger than her age, and I have always looked older, with the result that most people think I am older than she is by a couple of years. This time takes the cake.

We are shopping at a small craft store.

Sister: “Can you tell me where cross stitch patterns are?”

Clerk: “They are over there by where your mom is standing.”

Sister: *Pause* “That’s my baby sister.”

Clerk: “Oh, no! Please don’t tell her!”

Me: “I heard you!”