I used to go to a private school, and when I was twelve, I had a disabled classmate. (I don’t know exactly what his disability was because I never asked, obviously, but it was a cognitive/learning disorder.) He had his own assistant teacher, would take different tests, sometimes got out of class to do specific activities, and things like that.

Because of that, it was obviously harder for [Classmate] to socialize, even though no one was mean toward him or anything like that, but I was always kind of closest with him, and he really liked me.

One day after school, I was waiting for my mother to pick me up. [Classmate]’s father arrived and stopped to talk to me.

Father: “[Classmate]’s mother is pregnant, and we told [Classmate] he could choose his baby sister’s name. He chose [My Name] because of you!”

I’m eighteen now, and it’s still one of the things I feel most honored about in my life.

A couple of years ago, I had issues with my router. I’m pretty tech-savvy, but this was beyond my capabilities. I figured it was better to call support than to mess around with it on my own and risk making things worse.

I called and got talking with a polite young tech support guy about the issues with my router. Without first explaining why, he started walking me through multiple steps of what he needed me to do. He explained everything in detail, including where to find the start menu on my taskbar. As you can imagine, this was a slow process.

After he’d gotten me to open the command prompt, I figured I knew what he wanted from me. When he paused, I asked:

Me: “Is it my IP address you’re after?”

The young man almost sobbed on the other end, sounding like he was about to cry with joy, and exclaimed:

Tech Support Guy: “Yes! Thank you!”

I laughed and gave him my IP address.

The rest of the call went way more quickly after he realised he was talking to someone who understood the basics. We solved my issue, thanked each other, and hung up.

To this day, I still sometimes think of him and wonder what horrors he’d had to endure before talking to me that day. I shudder to think.

Stay strong, tech support people.

Our store policy is to ask everyone for their ID, no matter their age. A woman in her seventies comes up to my register.

Customer: “Hello, how is your night going?”

Me: “Fine, thank you. Yours?

Customer: “Okay.”

Me: “That’s good. Oh, ma’am, uh… may I see your ID real quick please?”

Customer: “I don’t have my ID; I left it at home. Can’t you tell I’m old enough?!”

Me: “Yes, ma’am, I can, but it is the store’s policy to see everyone’s ID for alcohol and tobacco purchases.”

Customer: *Getting visibly irritated* “Fine. If I go home and get my d*** ID, will you sell me the wine?”

Me: “Yes, but ma’am, it is 9:50 pm; you have ten minutes until the store is closed. Are you sure you can make it?”

Customer: “I can make it! Just shut up about the d*** ID!”

She leaves. Twenty minutes later, the store is closed, the drawers have been pulled, and I’m now mopping as I see this lady coming back up to the door.

Customer: “Hey! Let me in!”

Me: “I’m sorry, ma’am, the store closed at 10:00 pm.”

I move closer and put my phone on the glass door so she can see that it is 10:10 pm.

Customer: “No! I made it back before ten! Let me in!”

She pulls on the locked door.

Customer: *Screaming* “You think you’re a god-dang god, but you’re not! You’re just an a***hole pipsqueak!” 

She stormed off to her car. God carried on mopping.

I lived in central British Columbia for eighteen years and remember very clearly the one day I saw a moose (other than fleeting glimpses through a car window). I was walking home from the school bus. I’d just gotten to a neighbour’s driveway when she walked out from the other side of the neighbour’s house, so she was one house-length away from me.

I froze, and so did she, briefly. It was winter, so when she breathed out, it came from her nostrils in a steam cloud like an angry cartoon bull, and I thought, “Oh, no, is her calf behind me?!”

Then, a calf walked out from behind the house — so, right behind her. She fixed me with a “don’t try anything” glare, and they slowly walked away.

It was magical, and I never want to do it again.

I’m pacing the self-checkout area when a couple approaches from one of the nearest aisles, ribbing each other. The man ups his speed to get to me before the woman does. 

Man: *Clearly joking* “Watch out! She’s stealing!”

He then continues toward the doors as the woman catches up with me.

Woman: “What did he say?”

Me: *Smiling brightly* “He said that you’re beautiful, and every minute with you is a joy!”

Woman: “He did not!” *Turning to yell at the man* “You’d better like her; she’s lying for you!”

He just laughed as he waited for her at the door, and they walked out, still “arguing”.