Pulled Glass Is Pulling At Your Heartstrings

, , | Hopeless | August 5, 2017

(I work at a pretty well-known pet store that has a boarding facility within it, where I work front desk. Lately I have been having bad day after bad day, and totally unable to catch a break. I have been yelled at, cursed at, accused of being rude to someone I had only just met, and had my stapler thrown at me. On top of this I have been battling really intense anxiety and mounting depression, and I struggle with bipolar disorder. Overall, not a great concoction. Some of my regular customers make it worth it, though. My favorite is a woman and her best friend who bring their two dogs to us a couple times a week. They are both very understanding and have a great sense of humor, so I am comfortable joking around with them.)

Female Customer: “You look like you got hit by a truck today! Is everything all right?”

Me: “Oh, you know, just the usual irrationally angry customers that act like I supposedly torched their house with their whole extended family inside because I wouldn’t accept their four-month-expired coupon.”

Male Customer: “That bad, huh?”

Me: “Oh, yeah.” *notices Female Customer is wearing a gorgeous pulled glass necklace* “Oh, my god, I LOVE your necklace!”

Female Customer: “Oh, my, thank you!”

Me: “I used to have a necklace like that when I was younger. It was a little pulled glass turtle and I wore it every day but then it fell and broke at school and I was heartbroken. Oh well, things happen! Your total is [total] for the day. You guys take care!”

(A week or so later I see them come in to pick up their dogs so I get the till set for them. They walk up and I greet them as usual.)

Me: “Came back for the boys, I see! I guess you wanna keep them after all?”

Male Customer: “I mean, I guess we could take them back if you don’t want them.”

Me: “We’d be glad to keep them if you don’t want them! They can be our new mascots! Phone number, please?”

Female Customer: “[Phone Number]. By the way I want to give you this before I forget.” *reaches in her pocket and pulls out a beautiful blue pulled glass necklace* “This is for you. You seemed really stressed last week and I saw this online and I thought of you!”

Me: *in awe* “This is… for me? Really?”

Female Customer: “Yup! I think it matches your eyes well!”

Me: *holding back tears* “I… I don’t know what to say. Thank you so much. I love it so much. Thank you. I’ll be back with the dogs in a moment!”

(I rushed into the back and asked my coworker to get the dogs ready to go. Meanwhile I broke down in tears. The necklace meant so much to me and was a symbol to myself that no matter how many times I get yelled at and how many times I want to quit or give up on life, there are people out there that truly do care and are good people. I can never express my gratitude towards her with her simple act of kindness towards a struggling college kid. She doesn’t know about my anxiety, depression, or bipolar disorder and yet she still went out of her way to make me feel better. Makes me believe there are good people out there after all. Thank you.)

Flagged Another Awesome Reaction

, , , , | Hopeless | August 3, 2017

(I’m a semi-open pansexual female. I don’t hide it, but people usually must ask, or we must be talking about our sexualities. Most times, people don’t believe it’s a real thing, or they just start acting strange around me. But on a few rare occasions, I get reactions like this one, which is still my favorite. My self-esteem is also low, so I don’t take compliments well, and will sometimes actually stutter out a “thank you.”  I just recently got a new tattoo on my forearm, of the word “Ohana” with an arrow through it, and feathers; the feathers have the Pansexual flag (pink, yellow, blue) in a watercolor around them. I am out at the grocery store, a few days after getting it, when a mother and her son stand next to me to get something from the shelves. The little boy sees my tattoo and turns to his mom.)

Little Boy: *whispering to his mother* “Mommy, what’s on that lady’s arm?”

Mother: “That’s a tattoo, like Daddy and I have. If you ask her, she might explain the tattoo, like others do.”

Little Boy: *to me* “What does your tattoo mean?”

Me: *surprised, since most parents try not to mention it* “Well, the word is from one of my favorite movies, from when I was little. The colors are for a flag I use.”

Little Boy: “What’s the flag?”

Me: “Well, you know how your mommy loves your daddy, and is married to him?”

Little Boy: “Yeah.”

Me: “In my case, I can love a boy or a girl, a boy that dresses as a girl or has the body of a girl, or a girl that dresses as a boy, or has the body of a boy. I care more about the heart than the gender of the person.”

Little Boy: *to his mother* “So, she’s like Auntie, and big brother?”

Mother: “Yep, she is. What do you say to her for telling you?”

Little Boy: *to me* “Thank you, and I think you’re really pretty!”

(I have high hopes for that little boy, and his mother, for both of them being so accepting.)

Flipping Your Mood

, , , , | Hopeless | August 1, 2017

(I’m very bored as I have been assigned fitting room duty and it is a slow day. A middle-aged man approaches me with little girl flip-flops.)

Man: “Can I try these in the change room.”

(Before I can reply he bursts out laughing.)

Man: “I’m sorry you should’ve seen your face!”

Me: “What?”

Man: “You looked bored so I thought I’d come over here and do that.”

Me: “Oh… thank you!”

(His thoughtfulness made me smile the rest of the day.)

A Not-So-Vicious Cycle

, , , | Hopeless | July 30, 2017

Today I had my bike serviced. The shop adjusted the brakes and gears, etc. and made it run well. Really good job. They also inflated the tyres to full and hard.

I leave the shop, headed home, and the bike rides really well so I go a bit faster, feeling really pleased. It is raining but it feels fine.

I get to the first roundabout and I realise that the combination of wet roads and rain, plus tyres that are blown up much higher than they had been before and thus have much less grip than I am used to, is a bad thing.

I slide sideways and roll over on the road, cutting my arms and legs, and initially being a bit shocked and shaken.

Immediately, the lady driving the car behind me parks her car, blocking the road to prevent anyone crashing into me, and then gets out and helps me up. Another lady in a different car drives straight over and parks up, introducing herself as a trained first-aider. She also helps me get to the side of the road and asks me medical questions whilst inspecting my injuries. A third lady appears from somewhere, introduces herself as a nurse, and also checks that things are ok, whilst also holding a huge umbrella over us to keep us dry.

The first lady then leaves as she is blocking the road and can see I am in safe hands, and traffic gets moving again.

The lovely first-aider stays with me on the wet side of the road, puts plasters on me and cleans me up, before then asking how far away I live (just under a mile) to see how I can get home.

At that point yet another person pulls over to check I am ok and to ask if we need any help, although we are fine by then.

The lovely first-aider then loads me and my bike into her car, insisting she drive me home.

We get to my house, and she passes me over to my wife and son, who then start fussing over me, too, in the wonderful way that they do, and she makes sure that they will look after me and keep an eye one me.

She then leaves, completely refusing to accept any kind of reward for her wonderful help, despite me trying to give her a bottle of wine or something.

To everyone, but especially the first-aider: thank you so much for the wonderful help and concern for a complete stranger.

Faith in humanity definitely restored. 🙂

Fifty Reasons It Will Get Better

, , , | Hopeless | July 28, 2017

My husband has sadly passed away suddenly, leaving me and our daughter on our own. I tell her speech therapist so I can cancel an appointment and she comes over to check on me.

During this time, she suggests that as his unemployment check has come in, to go and draw it out, and see what to do about his loan. I go into the bank, crying, worried about our future and missing my husband. Apparently someone overheard me and the bank people talking. When I come out of the office after talking about the loan and what I can do and they can do, I’m stopped and given an envelope.

When I open it, I find fifty dollars from an anonymous person. I broke down crying. Whoever you are, thank you. Along with whatever was in the bank, that fifty will help me and my daughter survive on basic needs until I’m able to make other arrangements.

I don’t know who you are, but you took that much stress from me during an extremely difficult time in our lives. Thanks so, so much!

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