There’s a member of our team who doesn’t seem to be entirely present, [Coworker #1]. Airheaded is an understatement, but nearly everyone finds her funny, so she gets humoured, though I doubt she realises that. I’m one of the few who don’t have patience for her, so I just try to cut her a wide berth and interact with her as minimally as possible but at least politely.

I’m busy with [Coworker #2] when I realise [Coworker #1] is nearby behind me, constantly repeating the same word. However, I’m in the middle of something, so I opt to leave her to it. After a minute of this, I zone out of my conversation to try and figure out what she’s on about, so I can make her go away.

I realize the word she’s been repeating is a name that’s similar to mine but isn’t mine.

Oh. I think she’s been trying to get my attention. Just as I turn around, though, three others turn to her, and, all in the tone of an impatient adult dealing with a child…

Coworkers #3, #4, & #5: “[MYYY NAAME]!”

Coworker #1: “Who?”

I won’t lie, I had to bite my lip as I approached her so as not to laugh. It was a relief of sorts, to see that she gets on the nerves of others; it wasn’t just me.

I clear out the shared fridge regularly. We’ve had arguments over it before, but after I showed my flatmates what was dripping on their food — the green mold farm at the back of the fridge — they quickly changed their minds.

Everyone, that is, apart from [Housemate]. [Housemate] hates me for it; he hates being told what to do and he hates not getting his own way. I blame it on his spoilt lifestyle.

Housemate: “Why did you throw this out? It only went out of date yesterday!”

Me: “Don’t tell me you are going to eat that? There’s fur all over the cheese.”

Housemate: “I was going to cut it off!”

Me: “Firstly, this mold grows through the cheese; it doesn’t spread across the surface. You can’t cut it off. Secondly, you left it uncovered on top of everyone else’s food. I’ve told you. Everyone has told you. It’s not hard. Put your food in containers or it will get thrown out.”

Housemate: “You need to pay for the container, then.”

Me: “What? No. Your food, your responsibility.”

He tries to argue with me.

Me: “No, everyone here agrees with me. You act like an adult or you don’t use the fridge.”

Later, he tried to convince the housemates to get me out. I shared photos of some of [Housemate]’s food I’d thrown out over the past week or so. No one sided with him. Everyone told him to just grow up and think of others. [Housemate], in response, packed an overnight bag and disappeared late that day.

But not before unplugging the fridge.

No one noticed until much later the next day. We had to throw a lot away as it was the middle of summer. [Housemate] came back pretending to be innocent, but it was obviously him.

We agreed to kick him out, bagged his stuff, and told him to come to get it. [Housemate]’s biggest concern? He wanted “his milk” from the fridge. I got the (now) warm milk from the bin and put it with his things, and yes, he actually took it with him.

I got married at the weekend. As anyone who’s ever done it knows, wedding planning is one of the most stressful and exhausting things you can experience for something so happy. A large part of that is down to having to play family politics for every single decision. There’s a reason Wedding Planner is a full-time job!

My dad started by saying that it was OUR wedding, and we could do things the way WE wanted. We shouldn’t listen to what anyone else said, especially as we were paying for it all ourselves. But then, he found out I wasn’t inviting his incredibly flaky best friend, who hasn’t spoken to me since I stopped living with my parents and has never had a conversation with my now-husband.

Dad: “But you have to invite [Friend]! He’s my best friend!”

Me: “Right, he’s your best friend. He’s not made any attempt to contact me in nearly four years and he doesn’t even know [Husband]’s name.”

Dad: “That’s not the point! He invited you to his wedding!”

Me: “Yes, he invited me as your child, not as myself. He didn’t invite [Husband] because, as I already told you, he doesn’t know [Husband]. And I think his wedding day is the only time I’ve met his wife! I couldn’t pick her out of a crowd. Also, it wouldn’t just be [Friend]. It would be [Friend], [Friend]’s wife, and two children under five! We’ve already gone over the limit for the number of guests we can invite, and you want me to add four more people to the list?!”

Dad: “But you’re inviting [Friend]’s sister and her family! How can you invite her and not [Friend]?!”

Me: “[Friend’s Sister] is my godmother! She deliberately chose to play an active role in my life, texts me regularly, and invites me to her kids’ birthday and Christmas parties. She’s coming to my hen do because she’s like a big sister to me! She knows [Husband]’s name and has even met his parents! This is his wedding, as well, don’t forget, and he doesn’t know [Friend] at all!”

Rinse and repeat various similar arguments for at least half an hour, until…

Dad: “But I’ve already told him when it is! I told him the invite would be in the post!”

Aha! That’s why you’re so worried about this; you want to protect your pride!

Me: “Well, that’s not my fault. I never told you I was going to invite him, and I’ve not given you the okay to give the details out yet.”

This carried on for quite a while with my dad screaming and getting angry like a toddler. Eventually, he resorted to emotional blackmail and started yelling at my mum, calling her a “liar” and worse because he thought she had “been in on it” and was deliberately keeping it from him. When he started on that, I caved. I can’t stand it when he’s like that to Mum, especially when it’s not her fault.

The punchline is that his friend, the one that was “so important to this family,” that he couldn’t be without, and who had been given the date of our wedding weeks before anyone else, didn’t even come. Being the total flake that he was, he forgot the date Dad had told him, and he didn’t mention it to his wife, who went ahead and booked a holiday. He then lost the invite when we eventually sent it, and we found out after the RSVP date that his wife didn’t even know we’d invited them — nor did she expect to be invited because, you know, we hardly know them. My dad couldn’t understand why I was fuming.

Whilst this wasn’t the last stunt he pulled to get his own way at our wedding, it was the first and last time he tried to influence the guest list. And he still doesn’t get why we live so far away.

I rent a room from [Woman]’s mom. She is okay as a landlady, but [Woman] is just a horrible human being. I could write a book on the things she does without a shred of regret or remorse. The worst that comes to mind is when she pretended to be disabled and then started a fundraiser for herself for said fictional issue. Thankfully, few people fell for it and it didn’t go through.

Something happens to [Woman]’s job, benefits, or both, because I see her at the house with a load of her things. While I don’t listen in, it is clear that money is an issue and she can’t afford her flat.

Immediately, [Woman] wants “her room” back and wants me to sleep on the sofa. I say no; I pay for the room. [Woman]’s mother offers a discount. I say no; I have a contract. It’s my room while I’m paying for it.

Landlady: “Well, you don’t give me much of an option, do you?”

Me: “We have a contract, I always pay on time, and I keep the room tidy, so I’m not sleeping on a sofa.”

Landlady: “I’ll have to evict you!”

Me: “Fine, once you give me sufficient notice. That’s six months.”

Woman: “I can’t sleep on a sofa for six months!”

Me: “I’m a paying tenant, not a guest. I have rights to be here.”

They try to bicker with me, but I tell them to just check my contract. Fearing some sort of revenge, I photograph and video my room top to bottom, just in case they try to lie and evict me early.

Nothing happens until a month later when I hear the smashing of glass. I find [Woman] in the kitchen, glass all over the floor, and a wall cabinet hanging off the wall.

Woman: “Oh, no, what have you done? Tenants who damage their room can get kicked out.”

Me: “‘Room,’ exactly. You know this is the kitchen and not part of the rental agreement? Your mom was quite clear on that. Any damage is yours to fix.”

Woman: “What? No! I… Mom!”

I could hear them shouting at each other through the walls. I only wished I could hear them better.

I soon found another room to rent with a family that spent most of the year abroad. I paid the same rate but I had the house pretty much to myself.

I’m getting my four-year-old niece ready for bed to give my sister a break, and she’s very excited to show me her “new” pyjamas.

My sister lives on a small cul de sac that coincidentally has a lot of children of similar ages. For example, there are three other girls in my niece’s nursery class on her street. All the parents get on as well as the kids. To help each other out, when one child outgrows some clothes that are still in good condition, they’ll be offered to other parents that have smaller or younger children. My niece’s new pyjamas came from one of these trades.

Niece: “Look! It’s a unicorn made of stars! [Friend] gave me these.”

Me: “That was nice of her. I hope you said thank you.”

Niece: “Yes.” *Pauses* “[Nephew]’s friends never give him clothes.” *Dramatic sigh* “I guess they just don’t think of him.”

Me: “Do you think maybe it’s because he’s taller than his friends?”

Niece: “Nope. My friends just like me better.”