When I was a kid, my parents, aunt, and uncle sent my cousins, my brothers, and me to church youth group every week. One night, my parents were too busy to get us there, so my aunt offered to drive us along with her kids and even get us all some dinner beforehand. Since we were short on time, we went through the drive-thru of a nearby fast food restaurant so we could quickly eat at the church before youth group started.

Like most young kids anticipating fast food, my cousins and brothers were rowdy. With six or seven kids (including me) crammed into one vehicle, you can imagine the noise. My aunt had to repeat herself a few times at the speaker until I got fed up and turned around in the passenger seat.

Me: “SHUT UP OR YOU DON’T EAT!”

The car went quiet, my aunt finished placing the order, and everyone got their food. My aunt even thanked me once we got to the church!

It was a sold-out weekend at our hotel because of a major corporate convention. Guests were coming in from all over the country. The rooms were assigned by the housing bureau and paid for by their employer. It had been a crazy night with people finding out they had roommates, a non-smoker being assigned a smoking room, and two hated competitors being assigned to the same room (intentionally done by their boss, with notes not to move them).

One of our last arrivals for this group was a man named Robin. Immediately after Robin checked in, he returned to the desk with a young lady in tow.

Robin: “There must be a mistake; I’m in a room with a woman I don’t know.”

Lady: “I’m sure he is a nice guy, but staying in a room with a strange man…”

Me: “I apologize, but we didn’t assign the rooms; they were assigned by the housing bureau.”

Robin: “Could I pay for my own room?”

Me: “Unfortunately, we’re sold out.”

There was a hotel on the other side of downtown that had rooms — but of course, all the convention meetings were at our hotel. I did point out that if they could find someone in a single room to switch with, I would be more than happy to reassign the rooms. They retired to the bar to figure things out.

I later saw them together at the convention’s social hour. They approached me and said they would make it work, and they asked if I could send up a pair of robes.

A year later, I’d forgotten all about Robin and his roommate when I received a call to come to the desk. There at the desk were Robin and his roommate, both with wide smiles on their faces. She was holding her hand up in that way all new brides do to show off their rings.

That weekend a year before was the start of their whirlwind relationship. They had just gotten married and decided to spend their honeymoon in the city where they’d met. I helped them plan their sightseeing activities and made restaurant suggestions.

They returned for the next two years that I was at that property. The last I heard, they had a child on the way and had relocated to our area.

CONTENT WARNING: Death, Cancer

I’m serving an older woman at my table. 

Customer: “Hmph! What does your mother think about your tattoos?”

Me: “Well, my father doesn’t mind.” 

Customer: *Not taking the hint* “Well, what about your mother?”

Me: “She’s dead. She doesn’t do a lot of thinking.” 

Does she stop there? No… of course not.

Customer: “Did she die of shame?“ 

Me: “No, breast cancer.”

And with that, I dropped the check. She wasn’t done eating, but her table companions looked like they wanted to leave.

A coworker from my bakery calls me.

Coworker: “I know it’s early, but I just wanted to let you know that when you start your shift, you’ll be opening.”

Me: “But I don’t start until 11:00 am. What happened to [Manager]? Isn’t he opening?”

Coworker: “Something came up, and he can’t make it in. He asked me to check if you have keys.”

Me: “I do. Thanks for letting me know.”

I decide to head in a little early since the manager and owner are great guys and are always nice to me. When I get to the bakery, I can see a hastily written sign on the door from my manager. I am reminded that English is not his first language.

He comes in later in the afternoon, and some of our regulars keep asking him the same question.

Manager: *To me* “Why do they all keep asking me about my procedure and then smiling?”

Me: “Maybe because your sign this morning said, ‘Closed due to personal circumcisions’?”

There is a rule of thumb that if you do something right, then a person who sees it will tell three others — but if you do something wrong, they will tell ten. After reading so many Not Always Right stories of how nasty people are, I decided to be one of the three.

I get a call from my bank. After going through all the security procedures:

Bank: “Have you been to Argentina in the past month?”

Me: “I haven’t been out of my state in over a year.”

Bank: “We’re sorry, but it appears that someone has used your debit card number to buy about $60 worth of clothes in South America. We see this when they try to use a small amount first to see if it will go through. We’ll cancel the card and credit the amount back to your account.”

Me: “Thank you for keeping an eye on my account!”

Silence.

Me: “Hello. Are you there?”

Bank: “Sorry, I was just surprised. A lot of people swear at us when we tell them news like this.”

So, in deciding to be one of the three, a few weeks later, I call the customer service number of my bank and ask for the fraud department. When the lady answers and inquires as to my problem:

Me: “I simply wanted to thank you all for your diligence in keeping an eye on my account.”

Again, silence.

Fraud Department: “Thank you for the kind words!”

She sounded like she was nearly starting to tear up. Earlier that day, someone verbally ripped into her. Trying to help and protect your bank information, and you rip them apart! I will continue to try to be one of the three going forward!