I work in a build-your-own-sandwich type of place. We have a regular who has come in every Sunday for as long as I can remember. He’s a very old man with a super long beard. He looks a little rough around the edges and unapproachable, but he’s never acted unfriendly even though he might look it.

A family with two young sons comes in, and they start ordering their sandwiches. The youngest boy, maybe four or five years old, notices the old man and immediately approaches him with a big bold smile.

Little Boy: “Hi!”

His parents haven’t noticed yet, and I am happy to observe the old man smiling ever-so-slightly.

Old Man: “Hello, young man.”

Little Boy: “My grandpa said men with long beards always have good stories, and your beard is the longest ever!”

The old man suddenly roars with laughter. It’s so loud and so sudden that it shocks everyone in the place — everyone, that is, except the little boy, who is laughing along with him.

The parents suddenly notice that their youngest is talking to someone, and the mother comes over.

Mother: “Come on, now, [Little Boy]. Stop bothering the nice man.”

Little Boy: “But, Moooom! The beard! He has stories! Storiessssss!“

Now I can’t help it. I am laughing, as are the old man and a few other customers.

Old Man: “If it’s okay with you, miss, I am sitting here for a few more minutes while I finish my sandwich. I can tell him a short and fun story that’s age-appropriate if he’d like.”

Mother: “I don’t want him to be a bother—”

Old Man: “Honestly, I’d appreciate the company.”

Hesitantly at first, the mother relaxes her grip a little on her son, and he enthusiastically sits at the same table as the old man. The family sits at the table next to him so that they can listen to the story, which sounds like one of those older parables my own grandparents used to tell.

After two or three minutes, the tale is done.

Little Boy: “Thanks! You remind me of my Grandpa!”

Old Man: “Tell him I appreciate the compliment!”

Little Boy: “Oh, I can’t. He went away.”

Mother: *Stepping in* “My dad, his grandpa, passed away last month. You do resemble him, I have to admit. I’m sorry again if he’s being a bother—”

Old Man: “Ma’am, your son is the first friendly face I have seen in almost five years. These last few minutes have been a blessing; the last possible thing he has been is a bother. Thank you for your kindness.”

And with that, he stood, bowed slightly, and headed on out as was his routine.

I never saw him, or that family again, but it was a little moment that will stick with me forever. A minute or two of kindness can be everything…

I am having a hard day, but it’s no one’s problem but my own, so I am grinning through it and not letting it affect my work as a checkout operator.

A man and his little daughter are checking out and seem to be in the middle of a conversation.

Daughter: “So, I can grow up to be anything I want?”

Customer: “That’s right. If you work hard at school, you could be a doctor or an astronaut! No job is too good for my little girl!”

The daughter sees me, and I smile over at her.

Daughter: *Talking to her dad but looking at me* “I want to do what this lady does! She always helps us with the ice cream!”

The dad looks over at me and smiles kindly.

Customer: *Talking to his daughter, but also looking at me* “Like I said, no job is too good for my little girl.”

They both smiled at me, and the little girl excitedly asked me lots of cute questions and observations about my job, such as, “You get to press ALL the buttons?” 

It made me feel so much better!

I work in a hotel. I checked a family of five in on a Friday. The youngest came bounding in as the rest of the family walked in and cheerfully said hi! Children — well-behaved ones, that is — are some of my favourite guests as they are just full of energy and are fun to talk to. I grew up around young children in the family, so I have a knack for knowing the right behaviour. I enjoy hearing about their weekend plans. Our company always encourages us to talk to the little-uns, too.

As I was doing my check-in with the parents, she chimed in:

Youngest Child: “It’s my birthday tomorrow!”

Me: “How old are you going to be?”

Youngest Child: “Nine!”

Me: “Wow! That’s a big number!” *To the family* “What are your plans?”

Mum: “We’re in the area for the weekend for Uni choices and applications for my eldest.”

They didn’t mention anything about plans for the little-un — to me, anyway.

The family headed up to the room, and I decided I was going to give the little-un something for her birthday. We couldn’t do anything massive, but it’s the thought that counts. We have new children’s books that come with a toy, so I got one of them and a choccy from a vending machine, and I wrote out a little Happy Birthday note. (We’re not supposed to be giving gift stuff to guests because of the global health crisis, but I decided, “Screw it.”)

I delivered the gifts to her parents at their room and went back down to the desk. I missed them as they headed out for the afternoon but caught them on their way back in.

Mum: “[Youngest Child] was over the moon about your gifts! We’re going to read the book together tonight.”

My heart melted.

I finished my shift and wasn’t due back until Monday. When I returned, I found that the little-un had drawn a thank-you letter directed to me personally with some drawings. When I say I nearly cried from happiness, I’m not lying.

I have just started working at a big box retail and grocery store. A woman and her young son come in. I’m useless with children’s ages, but he can’t be older than ten. As soon as he sees me, his eyes go wide and he rushes up to me.

Boy: “Oh! You’re new! Can I draw you?”

Me: “Uh…”

Mother: *Catching up to her son* “Sorry. My son is autistic, and he’s usually useless with faces, but for some reason, he has a photographic memory of everyone who works here. He hasn’t seen you before, so—”

Me: “Yeah, I’m new.”

Mother: “Haha, yeah. I figured, based on his reaction.”

Boy: “Can I draw you?”

Me: “Draw me?”

Mother: “He likes to draw people. We’ve recently got around to explaining to him that it’s polite to ask permission first and that if they say no, he has to accept their decision.”

Me: “I mean… I guess? I need to work, though, so I can’t like, pose or anything.”

Mother: “Oh! No need. He’s seen you now; he can draw you from memory.”

Me: “For real?”

Mother: *Laughs* “Yes, for real!”

Me: “Well, then… sure!”

The boy smiles, and they both go on their way. I go back about my work, and I almost forget the interaction entirely until I notice something on the wall in the employee break room I haven’t noticed before.

A cork pinboard is full — and I mean FULL — of pencil-drawn portraits of dozens of employees of the store. They are amazing likenesses of my coworkers, at least the ones I recognize, and while I don’t think they’d fetch much in a gallery, they still indicate a very strong artistic talent.

My manager notices me staring at the wall.

Manager: “Ah, yes, these were all drawn by Victor.”

Me: “Is he an autistic boy, maybe ten or so? Comes in with his mother?”

Manager: “You’ve met him?”

Me: “He asked if he could draw me this morning.”

Manager: “Did you say yes?”

Me: “I did!”

Manager: “And on your first day on the floor! That’s amazing. You can look forward to tomorrow, then.”

Me: “Tomorrow?”

Manager: “You’ll see.”

Tomorrow comes, and the little boy and his mom are back. He rushes up to me and hands me an envelope. Inside are two pencil drawings of me! At first, I think one is just a scanned copy of the original, but then I realize that they’re BOTH original drawings.

Me: “Oh, wow! These are amazing!”

Boy: “Thank you. Have a nice day!”

And with that, off they went like it was the most normal interaction in the world! I showed my manager, who explained that I was free to do with them as I pleased, but most staff took one home and pinned the other to the board in the break room.

My picture has been gracing that wall now for the last two years, and the collection continues to grow… as does the boy’s talent.

I work in a daycare that’s connected to a complex with a mall, a gym, and offices. A customer comes in looking for his son.

Me: “Which one is yours?”

Customer: “His name is Jeff.”

Me: “Oh, we actually have three of those today!”

Customer: “Mine’s the one that looks like you wouldn’t be surprised if he ate dirt.”

Me: “Oh… Well, a family name might work better.”

We look up the right Jeff, and a coworker brings him over.

Jeff: “Dad!”

Customer: “Hey there, buddy. Did you have fun while Daddy was working?”

Jeff: “Yeah! I found a bug, and guess what?! I didn’t eat it!” 

Customer: *Walking away with his son* “Progress, buddy. Progress…”