I just gave birth by C-section. Two weeks later, I end up with a temperature and am sent to hospital. I am sent for an X-ray of my chest because of a cough.

The X-ray tech is going through the usual questions. My new baby is with me as he is breastfed on demand so we are not able to be separated.

X-ray Tech: “Any chance you might be pregnant?”

Me: “Gosh, I hope not. That one was cut out two weeks ago. It would be pretty amazing if there was another one still in there.”

X-ray Tech: “Sorry, I forgot you were that one.”

I order some dinner from a fast food place with a well-known delivery app. I order a promotional burger which is similar to the restaurant’s trademark burger with the addition of bacon and a promotional pepper sauce. I love pepper, so I’m looking forward to the burger.

My food arrives, but my burger is made with just regular mayonnaise, no peppery goodness in sight. I’m disappointed and decide to call the restaurant and complain. The manager answers and tells me I can either log a refund through the app or physically go in myself for a replacement. I really want the burger, so I opt to go in for a replacement.

I arrive and take the old burger in with me. I explain to the cashier that I received it without the pepper sauce, and I show her. She takes the old burger and calls for a replacement.

I take the new burger to the car and open it before I drive off, and I see that it’s made with regular mayo again!

I take it back inside and show the cashier and manager, who look confused.

Manager: “Wait, what sauce is meant to be on this?”

Me: “The pepper sauce, like what is on the menu board and promotional posters.”

The burger has been out for a few weeks, so it’s not like it’s the first day of release. The manager looks confused still and takes the burger back to the cook line and eventually comes back.

Manager: “We don’t have the promotional sauce for this, so we’ve just been using regular mayo.”

Me: “So, when I called to complain and requested the replacement for the wrong sauce, no one thought to tell me? I wasted the drive here for nothing?”

Manager: “Just claim it on the app.”

And she walked away. 

The cashier thankfully looked like she actually cared. She offered to get me any replacement burger from the menu I wanted and apologised to me for not checking before.

This took place a few years ago, and for some reason which I cannot remember, there was a shortage of some chicken products in my area, and unfortunately, that included frozen chicken nuggets.

I am struggling to find any crumbed frozen nuggets around. I have been going from supermarket to supermarket to find them, and all my relatives are also looking.

I am sharing my frustrations with a coworker over lunch at work when some other staff hear our conversation. Another coworker who was listening to the conversation, as we do have a small lunch room, interjects.

Coworker: “Or you could just not worry about it and make your own.”

Me: “I need them for my son, though. It’s the only way we can get him to eat meat. He doesn’t like it when I make them from scratch.”

Coworker: “Or you could just make him eat it.”

Me: “Yeah, that’s not going to work. It’s not worth the meltdown when I know he is 100% not going to eat it.”

Coworker: ‘“Sounds like you’re a soft parent. I just put food in front of my kids, and they have to eat it or they don’t eat.”

Me: “Good for you. It must be nice having kids who don’t have autism and don’t have any food aversions and will put up with that.”

Coworker: “Come on. Your son will eat it if he has no choice.”

Me: “He actually won’t. We tried the tough thing where he had to eat or didn’t eat at all. He starved himself instead. He literally will not eat it and will go to bed crying because he’s hungry but can’t bring himself to even touch those foods. And it’s not something he’s been taught, either; when he was a baby and we did baby-led weaning, I put ham and avocado on his high chair, and he screamed until he nearly passed out.”

Coworker: “Well, maybe if you do it consistently, it will work. You’re pandering to him!”

Me: “Wow. So I should just let my three-year-old starve and cry and traumatise him because a chick at work who is completely unqualified on his condition says I should? No, I’m going to listen to the professionals that I’ve been taking him to, who actually understand him and want to help him.”

Coworker: “But… I am trying to help. I have three kids, and they are older; I’ve been through the picky stage.”

Me: “No, you don’t want to help. You want to sit on your high horse and judge me, my parenting, and my son. And this isn’t a picky stage; this is a genuine condition that he will live with forever, and we are seeing professionals who are helping him learn to cope. Plus, it’s not even like he’s only eating junk food; he won’t even eat chocolate or lollies. He will only drink water, no juice or soft drinks. You have no clue, and you’re taking the opportunity to be judgy.”

My coworker got really quiet and left before her lunch break was finished.

Unfortunately, this isn’t the first or the last time I’ve had a conversation like this. Thankfully, my son’s therapy has helped, and although he still avoids most foods, we have been able to get him to try some new foods. Now, he will eat beef sausages!

Schools are constantly trying to accommodate the needs of students, but they often forget that staff have diverse needs, too. This happened to my dad when he was attending professional development on accommodating disabilities.

Presenter: “It’s important to remember that your students may not know that they have additional needs, or they may not be able to express what they need. It is your job as teachers to anticipate their needs and accommodate for learning styles, abilities, interests, and needs.”

Later on, the presenter put four large coloured squares on the floor next to each other: yellow, blue, green, and red. They were reading out a scenario, and the teachers had to stand on the square with the accommodation they thought would best suit the child. As they read out the scenario, most teachers moved to a square, except three male teachers, including my dad.

Presenter: “Do you need me to reread the question? Or are you still thinking?”

Dad: “No, we know our answers. But we’re colourblind, and you’ve put the green and the red squares next to each other. None of us know which one is which.”

The presenter was very embarrassed and quickly shuffled the squares around, quickly scrawling labels on sheets of paper to help the colourblind staff. However, my dad appreciated the irony of someone lecturing about anticipating disabilities while failing to do the same in the presentation.

My mother is an old Asian matriarch who is never EVER wrong. I mean, she’s wrong all the time, but because of the culture and her age, she sees the world through her limited mindset, and when reality doesn’t conform to that mindset, then it’s the world that’s wrong, not her.

Mother: “Take me to the store. I have a coupon to use.”

Me: “Mom, this coupon expired last month.”

Mother: “No it didn’t. It’s still good. They’ll take it.”

Me: “No, Mom, look. It’s written here on the—”

Mother: “Take me to the store! They’ll take it!”

Knowing better than to argue, I take her to the store, and she tries to use the coupon. The clerk explains that the coupon is expired.

Mother: “No, it’s not.”

Clerk: “I’m afraid it is, ma’am. If you check here—”

Mother: “No, it’s not. It’s still good. Use it.”

Clerk: “Ma’am, I’m afraid that—”

Me: “Hi, just saving you some time. Best to just call your manager now. I apologize for my mother.”

The clerk calls for the manager while my mother shouts at me.

Mother: “Why you apologize? I’m not doing anything wrong; they are! I have a coupon and they should take it!”

The manager comes up, and the whole song and dance starts again. They go through three rounds of the manager trying to convince her that the coupon is now invalid, but she refuses to accept it. I try to wrap this up and speak to the manager.

Me: “Apologies, sir. My mother isn’t going to back down, so feel free to go on with your day. We’ll be leaving now.”

Manager: *Thinking that maybe the confusion is a language barrier* “It’s perfectly all right, ma’am. I want to make sure all our customers are satisfied, so I am happy to try to explain it to your mother so that she can understand.”

Having been here many times before, I already know everything I need to say in this situation.

Me: “In twenty-five years, I have not once been able to convince my mother that she has made a mistake. This is the woman who is so stubborn and so self-deluded that she failed to see why parking in a fire lane would be an issue because ‘she would only be a few minutes’. She failed to see why her car should be towed. She failed to see why she would have to pay a fine to reclaim it. She failed to see why ‘simply explaining’ how she was wronged to the impound manager wasn’t actually verbal assault that she would eventually be arrested for. She failed to understand why the judge gave her yet another fine and community service, and she argued against it to the point where she was held in contempt of court and actually did a month of jail time. She is so stubborn and ‘infallible’ that she will argue herself into prison because she cannot see that the real world does not revolve around her.”

The poor store manager has let me continue my depressingly well-practiced speech for over a minute now, so I decide to wrap it up.

Me: “But hey, if you think you can convince her that the expiry date on her coupon is just a suggestion and not a rule that everyone — including her — has to follow, then please do try! You will have succeeded in doing something that literally no one, not even a court judge, has been able to achieve!”

The manager did not argue the point. My mother did not get her discount, but to this day, she still argues that she should have because “a coupon is a coupon”, and apparently, expiry dates don’t count if they’re not convenient.

She also still argues that the judge was wrong, so at least she’s consistent.

To anyone who wants to comment that my mother is an awful person and I should cut her out of my life, please understand that this is a cultural thing for us. I’m not defending it, but it is something that is what it is, and in some matriarchal cultures, the mother (or grandma) is infallible, and it falls on to the younger generations to act as the “intermediaries” between their perceived infallibility and the real world.