Reddit Stories - My SIBLING'S spouse WITHOUT work who CONSENTED to take on the task I

Episode Date: November 7, 2025

#redditstories #askreddit #aita #relationships #family #advice #dilemma #conflictSummary: My sibling's spouse without work consented to take on the task I asked for help with, but now they are not fulfilling their commitment. I feel conflicted about addressing the issue with them.Tags: redditstories, askreddit, reddit, aita, tifu, relationships, family, advice, dilemma, conflict, sibling, spouse, work, consented, task, help, commitment, addressing, issueBecome a supporter of this podcast: https://www.spreaker.com/podcast/reddit-stories--6237355/support.

I hope you enjoy this story. My sibling spouse without work who consented to take on the task I proposed. Declined due to my siblings' comment that physical work was degrading. They then insisted that I secure a desk job for him. While she's also been unemployed for months. Throw away because my twin sister knows my main and I don't want this coming up at Sunday lunch with my mom waving her phone at me going, is this you? Because if it's not you then there's a lot of coincidence.

is happening. Also I'm on mobile and I type fast and don't proofread so if there are typos sorry. So baseline info I'm a 30-something guy middle management at a distribution company that handles e-com returns and overflow for a couple brands you'd recognize. Not glamorous it's a giant concrete box that's hot in the summer and cold in the winter and smells like cardboard coffee and hand sanitizer. I like it I started on the floor became a shift lead then a supervisor and now I'm one of the operations managers. I still jump on the line when we're short, I still know how to fix a labler with duct tape and swearing. And I still bring donuts on Fridays when payroll hits. My twin sister were fraternal not identical if that matters is the golden child to my mom and the

son to my dad. I don't even mean that with bitterness it's just how it is. She's the one who did dance recitals and student government and could talk to a rock and make it feel special. I was the kid who could disappear into a Lego set for six hours and forget dinner. We used to be close when we were small like most twins are but life pulled us in different directions. She got the social charm gene. I got the nose how to program a WMS and swap a forklift battery without crushing my foot gene. She met her husband four years ago at some networking thing. And I remember the first time we met him because he was wearing this blazer with elbow patches in the dead of summer and talking a lot about a startup he was consulting for. And my dad who has been a machinist since dinosaurs tried to

figure out what he did by asking a million practical questions like. Okay, but what time do you leave for work and what's your job title on your tax return? And the answers were these vapor words like strategy and projects and building a brand. My mom's face tightened the way it does when she smells microwave fish. Over the last four years I have watched the same movie play out over and over. He has a job it's vague, he's transitioning, he's pivoting, there's always a reason. He dropped out of college junior year because school wasn't aligned with his entrepreneurial path. He's smart with words and really good at borrowing confidence from the room.

And for the last year he's had no job at all. I know because my sister has been stressed to hell and back and not to be too brutal. But she has been covering almost everything rent car groceries phone dates. She used to laugh about it like we're investing in his potential and then slowly it became less funny. We're not a family with intergenerational wealth. My parents work their asses off and have pensions and a mortgage and their pride, but they're not bankroll people. It has been her paying and pretending it's fine. I've offered help in the past, not money because I know that's a boomerang, but practical stuff.

Resumet Templates. A contact for an entry-level analyst gig at a supplier. He bailed because 8 a.m. is too early for his flow. I kept it light because I've learned with my sister that if you press, she digs in harder. Anyway, two weeks ago I saw we had three openings in the warehouse side that I actually feel good about recommending to family because they're steady, honest jobs and we're a decent company. Not minimum wage crap. It's hard work, but there's a good.

There's benefits day 1, 401k, over time if you want it, and we pay for Forklift certification and the PIT license. The best part is a bunch of our supervisors started there. We promote from within, genuinely, if you can show up on time and not ghost your shift, you will move up. I know because that's how I got where I am. There's dignity in it. I care about it, maybe too much.

So I call my brother-in-law, thinking I'll keep it simple. I tell him, hey, we've got a receiving position, 6 a.m. to 2.30 p.m., Monday to Friday, with occasional Saturday overtime during peak. $21 and 50 cents to start, bunk to $23 after 90 days if you hit metrics, and will train you on the stand-up reach truck. You need steel toes, but I'll buy you your first pair, and we've got free coffee that tastes like sadness but it's hot and the guys are good. I say it just like that because that's how I talk about it and I don't want to oversell anything. He goes quiet and then he actually sounds relieved. He says, honestly, that sounds kind of good, man. Like he's been drowning and I threw him something to hold.

I tell him we can interview him on the floor so it's less formal, meet the team lead, see the operation. He says yes. We set it up for Thursday. Three hours later my phone rings and it's my sister, and she is already breathing like she ran upstairs. I barely say hello before she's like, what is this warehouse thing? And I tell her it's a job, like a job job, the kind with a paycheck and health insurance, and she says, that's so low. And the way she says low is like the word is sticky. I make a joke about how gravity works on paychecks just the same and she doesn't laugh.

She says I should know better than to put her husband in a position where he's going to be humiliated. I'm like, humiliated by what, a time clock? A pallet jack. People take pride in this work. I take pride in this work. She says he needs an office job, something respectable, because he's only had professional roles and putting him on a warehouse floor is a step backwards he may not recover from. I remind her he's been out of work for a year. She says that's because the market is weird and people don't see his value.

I say I do see his value but it's currently theoretical and my company doesn't have a need for a head of strategy with no degree and no track record who sleeps in until 10. I tell her I can get him on a desk if he earns it internally but I'm not installing him over people who've been grinding three years. She demands I create a white collar roll. Like literally, just put him in an office. He can do emails or something. I tell her that's not how jobs work. We have an HR department and compliance and also my own spine. She tells me I'm disrespecting family.

I say take it or leave it because I meant it. She says leave it. I say okay and I hang up because I could feel the fight coming and I didn't want to say something I couldn't unsay. Then I block her because she kept calling and I had to run a 3 p.m. walk through with the safety guy and I'm not doing that with my phone buzzing like a hornet in my pocket. My parents got looped in within the hour because my phone lit up with texts from the family chat where I'm apparently a traitor who thinks he's better than everyone because I wear a polo to work now. I wear a hoodie to work. We only put on polos when the client tours and I hate it. My mom calls and tells me I should have given him a respectable office job from the start and that I'm embarrassing the family by offering manual labor.

I reminded her that dad's hands look like old leather because manual labor fed us, and she says, that's different. I ask how. She changes the subject to how I hung up on my sister and blocked her and how I'm escalating things. I tell her I'll talk when people calm down and apologize for calling the jobs that pay my people's rent low. Until then, I need space. I didn't cut a big speech. So I guess that's the idea question. Am I the asshole for offering a warehouse job and refusing to conjure an office job out of thin air, then hanging up and blocking my sister, and telling my parents to knock it off or leave me alone. I get that family is family. I also think jobs are jobs and you can't be too proud to take one when you need it. And also it's not my job to launder my brother-in-law's

image by giving him a title he didn't earn because it'll make my sister feel better at brunch. I know that last part sounds petty but I'm pissed. Also extra petty detail. My sister told me he he dropped out on other jobs to focus on real-world experience, and the real-world experience in question was making a podcast for six months that got 40 listens per episode. And I was one of them. I'm not a saint here. I'm frustrated. I'm tired.

I am also protective of my team. I'm not going to install a guy in an office to email spreadsheets he doesn't understand while other people bust their asses and then have to explain to them why the boss's sister's husband got special treatment. I'm not the boss, I just answered to one, but still, it would be my face on that. Edit, I can feel people asking for numbers, for context. The receiving role would have paid him more than he's made in a year, which is zero, with overtime it could hit like 55K. Benefits start day one. PTO a cruise. There's a guy, Damon, who started and receiving in 2020 and he's now a supervisor making

78K and he just bought a house. Damon's mom cried when he told her. I stood there awkwardly with a pie because we had a little party and I didn't know what to do with my hands. There is nothing humiliating about our work. Sometimes it's boring and your back hurts and the scanner freezes and the printer jams and someone drops a pallet and there's a chorus of fuck across the line, but it's honest and it pays. That's my thesis, I guess. I told HR to leave the slot open until Thursday and if he didn't show, fill it.

He didn't show. I got a brief text from him the night before saying, Hey man, thanks but your sister thinks it's not a fit. I appreciate you. It was polite and also weak. I didn't respond because what is there to say that isn't me typing okay? Edit, I realized I left out that my sister is pregnant, which is relevant because I think it explains some of the heat here.

She told us at dinner last month. First grandkid. My mom immediately started knitting like her hands moved before her brain. My dad pretended to be stoic and then went outside and cried next to the grill. I hugged her and I meant it. I'm happy for her, I'm excited to be an uncle. I also think my parents are bending over backwards right now because they want everything smooth for the baby. They didn't like her husband at first, massive understatement.

My dad's face at the engagement party was the color of Jared Spaghetti Sauce, but time and the idea of a grandbaby have softened them. I think I'm bumping up against that softness and it's making me look like I'm hard, which is maybe fair in their eyes. Anyway, verdict's welcome, I guess. I'm going to bed because I have worked tomorrow, and I'm not going to solve being the family villain tonight. Update, okay, so I slept, I went to work, I read a bunch of the same. the comments during lunch. I appreciate the people saying I'm not crazy. Some of you are way harsher than I am, like I get it, you hate entrepreneurs, but dial it down, he's still a human. I don't hate him. I think he's lost and very allergic to feeling uncomfortable and my sister

has been his comfort blanket, and now there's a baby coming and everyone is panicking and trying to paint a prettier picture than the one that's on the wall. I told HR to go ahead and fill the receiving slot because we can't leave holes. They hired a guy named Jorge who has three kids and was thrilled to get off swing and on today's. He sent me an email saying, Thanks for the chance and I almost cried because I got weirdly emotional reading basic gratitude. My parents are doing the we love you, but thing in texts. Then they pivot to remember when you were 19 and dad got you that summer job at the plant and I'm like, yes, I remember that was an entry-level job I actually did and used to pay for community college. And also I didn't demand

the tool crib manager role. My mom keeps saying family helps family, and I keep saying I did help. You didn't like the shape of the help. Someone pointed out that it's wild my parents are taking my sister's side when they never liked her husband. You are not wrong. I was honestly surprised when my mom called me classist which is hilarious because what? I'm literally, the one trying to get him a job. I think, like I said, pregnancy goggles are on, and they want her stress-free. Grandbaby energy is a hell of a drug. Also, them jumping on me is easier than them looking at the situation and going, wow, we raised a daughter who thinks manual labor is humiliation. That's a reach I know. Maybe it's not about how they raised her at all. Maybe it's

just life. I'm trying not to monologue myself into a corner here. The short version, I'm not changing my mind. I told my sister via email, since she's blocked on my phone and I'm keeping it that way, that if he ever wants a shot at the warehouse again, I'll treat him like any other candidate. And I won't hold this against him, but there's no office role for him. She wrote back we'll see, which is her fuck you but incursive. My dad sent me a photo of a tiny pair of sneakers and said this is what matters, and I just stared at it for a while because he's not wrong and also it's not the cudgel he thinks it is. I want the baby to have stability. That's literally the point of my stance. I can't build that stability by setting up a fake desk job

and hoping nobody notices the guy at the end of the hall who doesn't know what a bill of lading is. I'll probably be distant for a while. I'm not going to chase anyone. My house is quiet and I like it that way. I bought a plant. I named it Clarence. Clarence doesn't yell at me. Clarence minds his business. 10-10-T-Hs roommate. Update 2. I thought we were in a cold war and then this afternoon my doorbell rings and it's my parents and my sister standing there with a box of chocolates and one of those helium balloons that says congrats.

Like I won something. My mom is smiling too hard, my dad is holding the balloon like it's a hostage, and my sister looks like she slept two hours and drank three coffees. They say they were in the neighborhood, which is funny because they live 30 minutes away and there's nothing between here and there except a tire shop and a taco place. I let them in because I'm not a monster and also because if I didn't my mom would have camped on my porch and waved to the neighbors. My sister hands me the chocolates and says congratulations on becoming an uncle with this breathy fake cheer. I say thanks and put the chocolates on the counter. My dad sits, my mom starts tidying my already tidy kitchen because that's her coping mechanism, and my sister does that thing where she stands and pivots like she's giving a presentation to an invisible

audience. She says she's sorry. I perk up. Then she says, I'm sorry for the way I yelled at you that day. Only that day. Very specific. Not sorry for what she said about the job, not sorry for dismissing my work, not sorry for looping the family, just sorry for tone.

I say okay, thank you. There's a silence. She fills it with a rush of words about how stressed she's been because she's unemployed and has been keeping it from her husband because he can't handle stress right now and she didn't want to make the pregnancy harder. I blink. I ask unemployed. She nods.

Apparently she got let go two months ago when her company lost funding. She told herself it was temporary. and she'd find something quick and then the morning sickness hit and then everything snowballed and she didn't want to worry him. My mom jumps in to say we're helping financially, but it's not sustainable long term. My sister nods and looks at me like I'm supposed to connect the dots and go, ah yes, therefore I must conjure an office job for your husband. I wait. She finally says it. Any white collar position. Anything with a desk. even just like admin, so he doesn't have to deal with the humiliation of the floor. I tell her again that I don't have a role.

She says he can learn. I say so can anyone, including the guy who just took the warehouse job you refused. She pivots to the baby. He needs to feel like a provider. I say he can feel like a provider by providing. She says he's only had respectable jobs and the warehouse will crush his spirit. I say he seemed pretty okay with it until you told him he should be ashamed. I probably shouldn't have said ashamed, but that's what I think it is.

She says I don't understand him. I say I don't have to understand him to know that cash in, cash out is real, and mortgage companies don't accept vibes. I ask her why his happiness is more important than mine or the 20 people who would be side out if I parachuted him into a desk and told them to answer to him. I tell her I think it's her ego, not his. I say that gently, for me, but the words still land like a slap. She explodes. Like volume 11. You're the worst person I've ever known, which, okay.

You don't deserve to be my brother. My mom's eyes get wet. My dad stands up and says her name, the way dad's do to break fighting dogs in the park. She keeps going. A lot of it is about me being single and bitter, which is funny because I'm actually fine and I have a plant now. Shout out Clarence. She says I'm jealous of her family. I say I'm trying to help her family.

She says I don't get to define help. I say I do when it's my workplace. I tell her something I probably should have said calmly weeks ago, that my brother-in-law texted me he was grateful for the offer, and that I think he would have shown up if she hadn't framed it as humiliating. She goes quiet for half a second like a window opening to fresh air and then slams it shut. He was being polite, she says. I shrug because there's nowhere to go from there.

My mom tries to pivot to baby names. I am not kidding. She's like, what do you think about Lucas? Like we can small talk our way out of a structure fire. I say I think Lucas is nice and I'd like everyone to leave now. My dad takes my sister by the elbow. My mom grabs the box of chocolates like she's going to reclaim them and then realizes that's weird and puts them back down and pats them like she's tucking them in and they shuffle out. My sister turns at the door and says, you'll be sorry when he's successful, and slams it.

I don't know what this proves except that I'm done being the family HR department and also I'm worried about her in a different way now because the unemployed thing is a whole new layer of sand under the castle. I texted my brother-in-law, he's not blocked, a simple hope you're both okay. He hasn't responded. Maybe she told him she's unemployed, maybe she didn't. I'm stepping out of the splash zone. I can't fix image management people. They have to decide to stop looking at life like a problem. Update 3. It's been a couple weeks since the chocolate balloon circus.

My phone is oddly quiet and I didn't realize how much mental noise the family group chat was until it wasn't there. My mom tried twice to send me photos of baby clothes and a sonogram and when I didn't answer she sent me a paragraph about how blood is thicker than water and then nothing. At some point in there they blocked me. I figured it out because I tried to send my dad a photo of the fish I caught, yes, it was small, yes, I was proud, and it didn't deliver, and then my cousin texted me like, what did you do because your mom is telling Aunt Ruth you joined a cult. Extended family is doing what extended family does, which is gossip and choose seating and pretend they're neutral while asking leading questions. The funny piece is,

most people either don't care, their lives are full, shocker, or they're on my porch with a case of beer going tell me everything, and then telling me about their own mess because nobody's life is clean and I think my situation just gave them a permission slip to vent. My uncle who hasn't spoken to his brother in six years over a boat is now very invested in me not burning bridges, which is rich. My grandma, bless her, said, work is work, honey, and sometimes people need to be told no. As for my own life, it's weirdly good. I'm not doing the performative I cut off my family and now I'm glowing thing because that's not real. I missed the version of my sister from when we were nine and made pillow forts and stayed up too late whispering. I missed the hypothetical. I missed the

hypothetical, not the actual. I don't miss the current group chat dynamic or being drafted into fake titles. Work is steady. We made our numbers for the month. I took my team out for tacos on Friday and we argued about whether the crunchy ones or than the soft ones and it was easy and ordinary and felt like a life. I'm sleeping. My shoulders are down. I haven't heard from my brother-in-law. Maybe he got something. Maybe he didn't. Maybe he'll show up in a month and ask me to reconsider and I'll tell him the same thing I told him then. The warehouse is honest, you can build a real life from there, and nobody is too good for it. If that makes me the villain in someone's story, I can carry it. And before someone asks, no,

I don't plan on being at the baby shower if I'm still blocked and also the invite would require me to dress up and play games where you guess chocolate and diapers and I'm sorry but I did my time with the gender reveal where they shot confetti into my hair and I looked like a cake. I'll send a gift. Diapers, wipes, something useful. Not a plaque that says live laugh love. I might mail a card that just says I'm here when you're ready to be honest and then go back to labeling a palette and making sure Outbound hits the 4 p.m. truck. If my parents ever apologize, great. If they don't, I'm not holding my breath. I'm not going to tie my piece to their willingness to pick it up.

I don't hate them. I think they got scared and they picked a lane and it wasn't me. I can live with that. For the Internet Peanut Gallery, I know I'm stubborn. I know saying take it or leave it was blunt. I also know that sometimes the most respectful thing you can say is no. Not we'll see. Not maybe.

Just no. This isn't a movie where I cave and give him a fake job and then he rises to the occasion and everyone claps at the christening. This is a building where if someone doesn't print the pick list no one gets their shoes on time. We are not goofing around. And I can love my future niece or nephew and also refuse to warp reality for their dad. Both can be true. I'm going to hold the line here. I think it's best for everyone, even if they hate me for it right now.

I'll probably uninstall the family chat app. I put my phone on Do Not Disturb and realize the only person who needs to break through at 2 a.m. is night shift if the conveyor dies, and they have the ops phone for that. I watered Clarence. It's fine. I'm fine. The world didn't end. I'm going to make spaghetti and watch a stupid show and try not to imagine my sister's face when the baby. kicks and my mom's hands on a tiny sweater and the ways I wish I was in that picture without

being asked to lie about what work is worth. That's the part that stings. But I can live with a sting. I'd rather that than the slow rod of resentment from sitting a guy in a chair he didn't earn and calling it kindness.