The restaurant where I work was closed for the first few months of the current health crisis, but we reopen on the fourth of July weekend with a holiday dinner pick-up offer: fried chicken with multiple sides and dessert, enough for four people. It proves very popular, and we are super busy all weekend. On Tuesday, the phone rings.

Me: “Hello, [Restaurant].”

Woman: “Hi, I’m so glad I reached you. My husband and I ordered the special dinner over the holiday weekend—”

I brace for a complaint.

Woman: “—and it was absolutely delicious! And I realized when I looked at our receipt that I had forgotten to add on a tip when I made the order. I would never forgive myself if I didn’t tip you all for doing all that work, and on a holiday, no less. Would you be able to run my card for a tip belatedly?”

Me: “I… Sure! How much did you want to tip?”

Woman: “Twenty-five percent, please. Thank you again. I am so glad to see you all open, and I hope we get the chance to support you again soon!”

That made my afternoon! And thanks to her and other generous customers like her, we’re still open!

Related:
Tipped To Be A Good Day

Coffee shops have opened up again after the health scare. I’m a new mum and surviving on very little sleep. I’m hormonal, emotional, and tired.

I excitedly order my usual drink, try to hold a decent conversation with the cashier whilst half asleep, and move to wait.

My name is called. I say thanks, grab my drink, and take a big gulp… forgetting I’m wearing a mask. Coffee goes all down my dress and into my bra, and I drop my drink in surprise.

I’m bright red and unsure whether to laugh or cry, and the cashier is looking at me in horror. She grabs lots of tissues and comes round the counter, helping me manoeuvre my pram out of the way and clearing up my mess.

I’m apologising over and over, but she shrugs it off and says it’s fine. I manage to blot away the excess and she makes a joke about my dress looking better in brown. It makes me giggle.

They remake my drink, give me a muffin, and even give me a voucher for a free drink next time.

I am so touched I tear up, to which the cashier says, “Don’t cry! You’ll ruin your mascara, too!”

Best coffee shop ever!

I’ve been getting an absurd number of spam calls from “Amazon” claiming I need to reconfirm my payment settings. It’s bad; I’m getting over five calls a day. Though I block the number each time, the number spoofing is good and I keep getting more and more calls from different places each time. Eventually, I get sick of it.

Me: *To my wife* “Ugh, another spam call. Brace yourself; I’m going to be loud.”

Wife: “Are you going to yell at them? That doesn’t work.”

Me: “No. I’m putting my theater and choir kid training to good use.”

I answer the call. The scammer does their spiel.

Scammer: “To speak with our cybersecurity department, press two.”

I press two and inhale deeply.

Scammer: “Thank you for calling Amazon—”

I screamed for a solid ten seconds. The scammer hung up. It seems to have worked; I haven’t gotten a call in weeks.

My boss does not tolerate nonsense from anyone. A woman comes in to claim that I spit on her when she paid, and she wants a refund on the gas she purchased.

Boss: “I will look at our security camera.”

Woman: “Is my word not good enough for you?”

Boss: “No.”

She had a beautiful look on her face when he told her that. And the camera showed she was a liar.

Back in high school, my brother had a fling with a classmate of his. Nine months later, she showed up on his doorstep with a baby and claimed it was his. My brother didn’t even question it. He filled out the forms required for custody, signed the birth certificate and everything, and took the baby in as his daughter.

As you can imagine, EVERYONE wasn’t happy with my brother’s decision.

It was pretty obvious what happened. His classmate was rather promiscuous. Whoever was dating her at the time took one look at her baby and was like, “She’s not mine,” and walked out on her. So, she thought back on which guys she’d been with nine months before and chose the one who was most likely to take her baby off her hands before flouncing off.

My dad was especially pissed at my brother. He was adamant that the baby wasn’t his and that she should be adopted off. However, my brother stuck to his guns.

Brother: “She’s mine. End of story.”

I’m pretty sure he was in denial, but he didn’t slack off on parenting, no matter how harshly he was criticised by literally everyone else in his life. He also absolutely refused to have a DNA test performed.

Fast forward six years. My niece was the spitting image of her mother. By this point, the entire family had warmed up to her. My brother was married and had a baby boy now. His wife was the perfect stepmom. Life was happy…

…with one notable exception: my dad.

Dad, being the stubborn man he is, was still adamant that my niece wasn’t my brother’s and wanted to prove that.

So, one day, when he was on babysitting duty, he took my niece to a clinic, and they took her blood. They also took her cheek cells for good measure. Dad also submitted his own DNA and told my niece not to mention anything to [Brother].

Instead, [Niece] told her stepmom, and my sister-in-law told my brother… who promptly went ballistic.

[Brother] is never — and let me repeat this — NEVER angry. Frustrated, yes. Annoyed, quite frequently. But anger? Never. He’s the most mild-mannered guy I know.

So imagine the depths of his rage that he grabbed our father — a man twice his size — by the collar and slammed him against a wall. A screaming match ensued, and my brother gave Dad a black eye to hammer in this one point: [Niece] was his. End of story. No ifs, ands, or buts. My sister-in-law also got really weepy and promised my niece that she would always be her little girl, no matter what.

After the shouting match:

Dad: “You can’t fight blood. Wake up, son. She ain’t yours. Never will be.”

Brother: “F*** blood. [Niece] is my daughter because I say so. And I will go to the ends of the g**d*** universe for her if I have to.”

Dad: “You’ll see. Oh, you’ll see once that test comes in.”

Sometime later, my mom’s birthday arrived, and the whole family came to celebrate. Ever since the fight, my brother had avoided Dad like the plague, but he always had a soft spot for Mom, so he brought his whole family to the dinner party.

Once the food was finished, Dad suddenly pulled out two things: a birthday cake with “I f****** told you so” on it in frosting and a large envelope. He showed us the label on it. It was the DNA test.

Dad: “And now, for the moment of truth. Indisputable proof that [Niece]’s mother played the cuckoo on us.”

He opened the envelope and pulled out the results sheet. He then read it and rocked back in utter shock, desperately rereading it. Dad then collapsed onto his chair, looking like he had seen a ghost, and I took the test from him.

[Niece] was my brother’s.

I passed it to him and his wife and their faces lit up. My sister-in-law squealed and hugged her stepdaughter. My brother said nothing but turned the cake around so that the message on the frosting faced our father, instead. We all then hugged [Niece], laughing at how she really was blood.

My father was so shocked that he spent the rest of the evening catatonic. Once he got over it, he actually apologised and tried his best to make it up to my brother’s family, but it never really happened.