The Catch
Every time my dad and I go out and he spots a pretty ticket taker, bartender, or sales clerk, he proudly says, “This is my son, handsome, right? He’s 28 and already runs his own company. No girlfriend yet, but a nice apartment and car!”
The Artist
I won a drawing contest in elementary school, but I haven’t drawn anything since I was 14. Still, last year—at 32—I went to an exhibition with my uncle, and he grabbed one of the painters to ask if, since I’m a “prize-winning artist,” he could arrange an exhibition for me there too.
Outrage
At university, one of my assignments didn’t go well. My mom called the dean to complain, saying, “How could this happen when my son is so smart?”
Work
My grandma looks up the editorial phone number on the last page of magazines and calls to say she’s looking for a job for her journalist grandchild (me). I’ve told her a hundred times I have a job writing for an online magazine, but at 85, she doesn’t really get the Internet. Since she never sees my articles in print, she still thinks I’m unemployed. I had it easier than a friend whose grandpa always wanted to be a doctor and hands out his grandson’s business cards at every clinic, asking them to “give the kid a chance.” My friend is a 33-year-old IT specialist with three kids who never wanted to work in healthcare.
Name Tags
When I moved into a shared apartment with two friends, my mom embroidered my name on every piece of clothing so it wouldn’t get mixed up in the laundry. When I got pregnant at 19, she gave my number to several infertile couples, and I had to explain weekly to strangers that no, I wasn’t giving my baby up for adoption.
Flowers and Tattoos
My aunt doesn’t like my girlfriend because she has tattoos, so she collects phone numbers from every woman she likes—usually those wearing floral prints—and tries to set them up. My girlfriend always laughs about it.
Handsome Guys
I don’t dare go out with my mom anymore because she tries so hard to set me up that she secretly gives my number to every guy she thinks is handsome—especially the good-looking waiters. It’s super awkward, and I’m always blocking unknown numbers, but I can’t get her to stop.
My sister asked for my resume to help write hers, then two weeks later I got an email saying my application failed. Turns out, my mom asked my sister to apply to Google Budapest on my behalf, and they wrote things like “Because I LOVE technology!” under “Why do you want to work with us?” Imagine the HR person’s surprise seeing an applicant with a degree in East Asian languages and cultures—Mongolian specialization—applying as a developer.
Full Service
Since I moved out, my mom sends me tons of food, thinking I’m starving. I have to share a lot with neighbors so it doesn’t go to waste. When mom visits, she even collects my laundry without me noticing and takes it home to wash it—as if I don’t have a washing machine. I’m not thrilled since the clothes always come back weeks later, mixed up and sometimes shrunk.
The Early Bird
In high school, I sang in the choir my first year, and ever since, my parents have treated me like Maria Callas. At my sister’s wedding, they kept pestering the band, saying if they ever needed a backup singer, I was their girl because I have a wonderful voice. (I’m 28 and haven’t sung a note since I was 15.)
