My sister is shopping for her own car for the first time and is nervous about dealing with salesmen, so she brings me along for support. Please note that any names in this story are definitely fictitious.

Sister: “I just know they’re going to pressure me into buying something today, and I feel so awkward saying no!”

Me: “So imagine they’re somebody that you don’t feel awkward saying no to. Like that one guy at your work who thinks he’s smarter than you, and you have to keep shutting him down.”

Sister: “You mean Ollie?”

Me: “Yeah, Ollie. So, whoever the salesman is, just tell yourself he’s Ollie. You know how to say no to Ollie.”

We wait a little while before a salesman comes over to us.

Salesman: “Hi, ladies, nice to meet you. I’m Ollie!”

We both burst out laughing. The poor guy looks very confused, but goes into his pitch and shows my sister a couple of cars. As we are getting ready to leave, he tries to bring in some backup…

Ollie: “Let me see if my manager can help you get what you’re looking for. Hey, Ollie, do you have a minute?”

Yes, the salesman and his manager both had the same name, and it was the same as my sister’s workplace rival! She ended up buying her car somewhere else, but most of her first-time jitters were gone, and all because of a name.

This story reminded me of when I told my brother-in-law that my sister was giving birth. I called him on speakerphone from my sister’s room.

Me: “Hey, [Brother-In-Law], come to the hospital quick! [Sister] is giving birth now! 

Brother-In-Law: *In a panic* “What?! She’s giving birth? To a baby?”

My sister looked enraged at the phone. 

Me: “No, a puppy. Of course, it’s a baby. Now, if you want to live to meet your kid, I suggest you hurry up before she murders you.”

From the water breaking to the baby coming out, it was less than an hour.

When I was in high school in the early 2000s, my sister was a heroin addict (actively). For reasons lost to time, I had lent her my phone at some point. Also relevant is that the only way to block a number would be to pay the provider a monthly fee as far as I know.

My phone rang and I answered.

Me: “Hello?”

Cowboy: “[Sister], where have you been?”

Me: “Who is this?”

Cowboy: “This is Cowboy! Stop playing games.”

Me: “I’m not [Sister]. This isn’t her phone.”

Cowboy: “You can’t lie to me! You aren’t even trying to change your voice!”

Me: “What did you want, anyway?”

Cowboy: “I want you to pay me; you know what your little boyfriend did.”

Me: “Wait, which boyfriend?”

I didn’t hang up because I was curious and nosy and had no sense of potential consequences. But don’t worry; nothing bad happens.

Cowboy: “You have more than one?”

Me: “I do, actually, but I’m not [Sister]. Why are you trying to get money out of her, anyway?”

Cowboy: “That punk owes me $3,000! And I can’t reach him.”

Me: “So, [Sister] is responsible for that?”

Cowboy: “Exactly.”

Me: “Is she responsible for everyone she has slept with? Are you? If I slept with you and then stole $5,000 for drugs, would you pay up?”

Cowboy: “…who are you again? [Sister] wouldn’t try and logic with me.”

Me: “So, you are owed money for drugs, right?”

Cowboy: “…”

Me: “I bet you are rich.”

Cowboy: “I do all right.”

Me: “Do you enjoy running after druggies for what is probably pocket change for someone like you?”

Cowboy: “Not usually, no. Where is [Sister]?”

Me: “I wouldn’t know. Are you her dealer? What do you want to be when you grow up?”

Cowboy paused for a moment and then burst out laughing.

Cowboy: “Who are you? You are hilarious!”

Me: “Thanks. But I want to know. If that question is too hard, you can tell me how you chose the name Cowboy.”

I don’t remember his answers, but I chatted with him for about an hour about morality, economics, hope, and humanity. I felt very guilty about doing so because he was obviously not a good guy.

He used to call every so often, gently ask after [Sister], and then just chat. He never found out who I was.

My number didn’t change, so I wonder what happened. As far as I know, he never got money out of [Sister]. He may have died or gotten arrested. It’s too bad he never became a real cowboy, instead.

My sister once filled a vase with candy corn and stuck some fake sunflowers in it, and Mom used it year after unknown year as a table centerpiece…

…until one fateful day when a friend of Dad’s stopped by and sampled some while they were drinking coffee.

He later admitted that they noticed they were off, but as he ate more than the first few, presumably they were nothing worse than what he ate on active duty in the Army!

I get a text from my sister.

Sister: “What are you and [Husband] doing tonight?”

Me: “I’ve got a pot roast cooking, and we’re going to watch [Movie] after.”

She doesn’t say anything else. An hour later, the front door unlocks and [Sister] walks in with her four kids — all under eight. She puts them on the couch beside me and my husband and goes to the kitchen. I follow her. 

Sister: “Tell Uncle [Husband] to turn on [Kids’ Show] for you!”

Me: “What are you doing?”

She starts uncorking one of our expensive bottles of wine.

Sister: “You want a glass?”

Me: *Taking the wine* “No. Get out.”

Sister: “What the f*** is wrong with you?”

Me: “I can’t count the number of times I have told you that this behavior is not okay. You can’t just walk into my house uninvited and—”

Sister: “Fine. Kids, let’s go! Aunt [My Name] doesn’t want to spend time with you.”

The kids all file out, giving me the stink eye the whole time. My husband just sits there, mute and confused.

The next day, my mother calls. 

Mother: “You know [Sister] just wants to spend time together.”

Me: “That’s fine, but she can’t just show up, drop her kids on us, and help herself to whatever she wants.”

Mother: “Well, maybe if you told her that nicely—”

Me: “Mom. I have told her repeatedly. I am out of nice ways to tell her she can’t act like everyone will just cater to her. I know she came over expecting that she could help herself to whatever she wanted and that we would watch her kids.”

Mother: “You don’t know that.”

Me: “I do! She does it all the f****** time! Think about every holiday meal. She drops the kids and does what she wants until it’s time to leave. The other adults are always watching her kids the whole day.”

Mother: “Well… maybe there’s a nice way to tell her.”

Me: *Giving up* “Okay, Mom.”

Nothing changed. My sister kept showing up, dropping the kids, and getting mad when we didn’t want to pitch in to babysit for her.

Eventually, we changed the locks on the door to a number code and refused to give it to her. I felt bad because I know I missed a lot of her kids growing up, but I don’t know how else to get the point across.