The Mother Of All Birthdays

(Every few years, my birthday falls on Mother’s Day, but I don’t have a mother, so I usually just focus on my birthday.)

Coworker #1: “Hey, [My Name], what are you doing for Mother’s Day this weekend?

Me: “It’s actually my birthday on Sunday, so I’m going out with some friends that night.”

Coworker #1: “I didn’t know it’s your birthday! Were you born on Mother’s Day?”

Me: “I was, actually, so it’s not unusual for my birthday to fall on the day itself.”

Coworker #1: “Are you doing anything with your mom?”

Me: “No, we… I don’t have a mother.”

Coworker #1: “Oh, I’m sorry. What are you and your friends doing?”

Me: “We’re going to–“

Coworker #2: “Wait, I thought you lived with your mom when you started working here.”

Me: “Yeah, I did. It was bad, it didn’t work out, and I moved away as soon as I could.”

Coworker #2: “So, you do have a mom but you’re not even going to call her?”

Me: “No. I’m not.”

Coworker #2: “But it’s not right; she’s your mom!”

Me: “Look, my mother is not a good person; let’s just leave it at that, okay?”

Coworker #2: “I can’t believe you’re a person who would cut her mother out of her life.”

(I just walk away. Later, I finish up my work duties and am about to clock out when [Coworker #2] ambushes me by the time clock.)

Coworker #2: “What was that, earlier? You lied to [Coworker #1] about not having a mom and then got snippy with me when I called you out on it.”

Me: “All right, look, I’m going to say this once: my egg donor is a very bad person. She lies, steals, and manipulates every single person she comes in contact with. I moved in with her when I was a homeless teenager to get off the streets, but not even six months into the arrangement she stole all of the money I’d saved and kicked me out of the house — on my birthday, no less — because I caught her in a lie. And when I pointed out that her stories didn’t match, she screamed at me, dragged me out of the house by my hair, and locked the door behind me. I was on the street again for almost a week. I haven’t seen or spoken to her since, and I plan on keeping it that way. If you have a problem with that, then that’s your issue, not mine. To avoid this exact situation, I just tell people I don’t have a mother. It’s not a lie to me; that woman birthed me, but that’s it. That doesn’t make her my mother. Now move. I’m done with work and I’m going home.”

(To her credit, [Coworker #2] did apologize to me and bought me a little gift for my birthday, and we got along just fine until I changed jobs. Not everyone has good parents, and that includes mothers, people! Try to remember that, especially with the whole “I judge people by how they treat their parents” thing that has been going around lately.)