This happened in my early teens. My house phone was being called dozens of times at every hour for a fortnight. The caller was some poor old lady who spoke only Chinese and was trying to get a hold of her son. She didn’t stop calling, pleading day and night to speak to her son.

My mother tried to explain to her that she had the wrong number, and that she had dementia and needed help, but she could never remember the conversation and would be back to calling and pleading five minutes later. We really wanted to help her, we really did. My mom was slowly piecing together details about her and was going to call for help once she learned who that lady was.

Unfortunately, my dad had other ideas. From the start, he dismissed this poor old lady as some sort of scammer and warned us never to talk to her. After a fortnight, he lost his patience with the whole affair and decided to fix it. He had learned from my mom that the old lady was in her nineties, and thus had probably survived World War Two.

So, one day, after she called yet again, my dad picked up the phone and went to me. He told me to yell a bunch of Japanese swear words into the phone, to someone he assured me was a friend of his and was interested in me learning a third language.

I was self-teaching myself Japanese — mostly from anime, which my dad hates and calls a waste of time — so I was very pleased that he wanted me to demonstrate my skills. I proudly yelled a couple of insults in Japanese into the phone, got a pat on the head and an extra hour of leisure time to watch more anime, and never thought about it for almost a decade.

It was only way later that I found it suspicious that the old lady stopped calling after that. My mom eventually told me what my dad had done, which he quite proudly told her after three days without a call. I’m not saying that it led to their divorce later in the year, but in the immediate aftermath, my mom did start sleeping in a different bedroom. I’m not completely sure he even thinks he did anything wrong, even now. He never understood why my mom cared for a stranger and why she was angry at him.

I really can’t forgive myself for doing that now. I really hope that I did not rekindle that poor old lady’s trauma from the war.

This happens on my younger brother’s tenth birthday. My parents gather my entire family into the dining room after all of the party guests leave and sit seriously on the table.

Dad: “So, [Younger Brother], you’re ten now, so your mother and I have something important to tell you.”

Younger Brother: “What is it? Am I changing school?”

Mom: “No. You’re not actually our child. You’re adopted.”

Younger Brother & Me: “WHAT?!”

Everyone looks at me.

Me: “Oh, right. Sorry. I genuinely forgot that you were adopted.”

Older Brother: “Come on! You’re the one that wanted us to adopt [Younger Brother]. H***, you’re the one that named him!”

Me: “Like I said, I forgot. It’s been a decade.”

Younger Brother: *Teary-eyed* “So, it’s true, I’m not Mommy and Daddy’s child?”

Me: “Yeah. Sorry, [Younger Brother]. Mommy never gave birth to you, unlike me and [Older Brother]. But that doesn’t mean that she’s still not your mother.”

Everyone in room stares at me again

Older Brother: “[My Name], I’m adopted, as well. Remember?”

Younger Brother: “Yeah, even I know that.”

Me: *Sputtering* “Well, it’s been almost two decades by now!”

Younger Brother: *To me* “Are you adopted, as well?”

Me: “No. This time I’m absolutely certain.”

Mom: *Teasingly* “Yeah… about that…”

Me: *Annoyed tone* “Mommy!”

Mom: *Pouts* “Yeah. You’re mine. And the whole reason why I cannot have any more children. That’s why we adopted your brothers.”

Yeah. That was genuinely my fault. My birth was so traumatic that it rendered my mother infertile. Regardless, I still have two amazing brothers whom I love with all my heart. This wasn’t the first time I’d had to be reminded that my brothers aren’t biological and it wasn’t the last time, either. Regardless, I don’t care and neither do they. We’re family through and through. For now and forever.

(My father’s friend is hosting a Christmas dinner at their place. As the adults start drinking in the dining room, most of the kids all run up to the TV, but I decide to accompany our host’s younger son, who is around nine. He takes me to his room and wants to play.)

Son: “Let’s fight!”

(He takes out a drawer filled with toy weapons.)

Me: “Sure, but I’ll just use this.”

(I pull out my younger brother’s toy lightsaber.)

Son: “Okay, but you’re gonna lose.”

(He equips a Nerf gun and his own toy lightsaber. We stand at opposite sides of the room.)

Son: “Go!”

(He then fires his Nerf gun at me, but I block the bullet with my lightsaber, stride forward, and knock both of his weapons aside with the lightsaber before tapping him lightly on the neck)

Me: “You’ve been decapitated.”

Son: “What? How did you do that?

Me: “The people in my fencing class can stab faster than a Nerf bullet.”

Son: “Cool! You’re a Jedi!”

Me: *deepens voice* “May the Force be with you, youngling.”

(I was telling the truth; my fencing classmates are fast. But I was actually watching the barrel of his gun and angling my lightsaber to be directly in front of it. Don’t tell him that, though. I have the reputation of a Jedi to maintain.)

I’m a tech support guy remotely assisting a user with a Quickbooks activation prompt appearing on her screen

Customer complained about Quickbooks popping an activation error message.
I chat with the user to refer their email for the activation key, and fill up the activation text fields accordingly.
User opened up Outlook, found the email, proceeds to PRINT THAT EMAIL.
Then with paper in hand, proceeds to TYPE OUT the license key field one by one.
ON THE SAME PC.
#facepalm

(My mom has a knack for solving problems, which is why she is frequently asked for advice by her best friends. Her best friend’s maid has gotten pregnant and my mom’s best friend is freaking out. She calls my mom to ask for advice and my mom solves it very quickly. This conversation occurs after the problem has been solved, and my mom is telling me about it over wine.)

Me: “Good job. Wow, I can’t believe that you had a plan of action ready for that.”

Mom: “I’ve had that plan for years, just in case any of the maids I employ got pregnant.”

Me: “Fair enough.”

Mom: “You know I have backup plans for everything, right? Car problems, marital problems, you get your girlfriend pregnant…”

Me: “Hey! I don’t even have a girlfriend.”

Mom: “I’ve made plans already. Just in case.” *starts listing them off on her fingers* “Girlfriend has an STD. Girlfriend is pregnant. Girlfriend breaks up with you. You bring home my grandkid. You get pregnant…”

Me: “I’m a guy.”

Mom: *matter-of-fact tone* “You could have gotten a surgery and then gotten pregnant.”

Me: “Gender reassignment surgery cannot do that.”

Mom: “Really? I didn’t know that.” *sips wine* “Regardless, I made that backup plan before I knew you were a boy.”

Me: “I think that level of paranoia is overkill.”

Mom: “If you think that’s bad, you should listen to my backup plan in case Grandpa and Grandma die. I’ve had that plan since I was sixteen.”

(She’s about fifty at the time of this conversation)

Me: “Jesus. And now you’re going to tell me that you have had a backup plan in case I suddenly died since I was six.”

Mom: “Nonsense.” *sips wine* “I’ve had that plan since before I even got married.”

Me: *speechless*

Mom: “That’s why my life has no curveballs. I make backup plans for everything. That’s why everyone asks me for advice. Whatever problem they have, I already have a backup plan in case such a situation ever happens to me.”