(My brother and I go to a [Popular Fast Food Chain] for lunch one day. The place is rather empty. We place our orders and then sit at a booth until it is ready. We get our milkshakes and drinks pretty quickly, but it is about 15 minutes before we get the rest of our order. We aren’t in any hurry so it doesn’t really bother us. After we get our order, we start to eat, but then the manager came to our table.)

Manager: “Excuse me for a minute, but I would like to apologize for it taking so long. Normally, we have food out within a few minutes. Since you had to wait so long, I would like to refund your meal.”

Me: *stunned* “Oh, no, really. It’s fine. We weren’t in any hurry; a refund’s not necessary.”

Manager: “Please allow me to refund you, anyway. It’s an issue for me when our service isn’t prompt. Our new employee was in back talking and there was no excuse for this. We don’t mind, and you’re getting a free meal out of it.”

(I ended up getting the refund after all. It’s wonderful to know that there are people who truly care about the quality of the service!)

At the beginning of my junior year honors chemistry class, my chemistry teacher lit the tabletop on fire. It was one of the best classes of that year. This story takes place before Christmas break. 

My high school raises money for a charity called Fish Family. We are broken up into groups by first hour, like English classes and such. My chemistry class was fifth hour, so it wasn’t part of the competition. But it was Christmas and we were all in the giving spirit, so we raised like 40 bucks in the first few days. But then, my chemistry teacher made our class an offer we couldn’t refuse. If we raised a hundred dollars, he’d shave his head.

A few days later, one student donated a few hundred dollars. The teacher waxed his head in class and made us mac and cheese from scratch. I was sick for the big day, so I didn’t get to see, and I’m still sad I missed it but it will remain one of my favorite junior memories.

(I am helping a lady with two trolleys and two toddlers through my till on a Friday afternoon. One of the poor mites is sick with a cold, and the other is grumpy and tired. I’m trying to keep them amused while keeping the experience as stress-free as possible. The mother has unloaded everything and just arrived at the other side of the till when she leans down and puts her head in her hands in genuine distress.)

Customer: “Oh, dear God, no. Please don’t. This isn’t happening. It can’t be happening.”

Me: “What’s wrong, love?”

Customer: “I left the bags in the back of the car. I left the d*** bags in the back of the d*** car and I can’t go get them.”

(Her sadness is so distressing I immediately try and fix it.)

Me: “That’s okay; I’ll go get them for you!”

(The customer stares at me as if I have two heads, and I make a hasty retreat.)

Me: “I mean, only if that’s okay with you. I’m sorry, I probably shouldn’t have said anything—“

Customer: “No—“

Me: “—but, I mean, you can’t go get them, and you’re under enough pressure as it is… I apologise, ma’am, I over-help sometimes.”

Customer: “No, it’s okay. Go get them for me, please. Thanks so much!”

(She hands me a HUGE bunch of keys.)

Customer: “I’m the white one by the brick wall opposite the pub. Bags are in the boot, left-hand side. Thanks so much!”

(Astonished I’m not in trouble, I take the keys and hurry into our car park. There is only one brick wall next to the pub, but there are at least five white cars. One of them is a brand-new, gleaming Rolls Royce Phantom which is being admired from afar by several gentlemen. Not knowing which car is the one I want, I find the key-fob and press it. Everyone jumps as the Phantom lights up and clicks. Everyone stares at me as I casually walk over, pull open the boot, grab a stack of neatly-folded shopping bags, and close it again. In the back seat of the car is a stack of kiddy treats. Acting on impulse, I open the back door and grab a couple.)

Me: *shrugs* “Forgot the bags, didn’t I, like a silly numpty.”

(I scurry back inside to find the mom trying to corral two screaming kids and arguing with my manager.)

Customer: “No, she offered to get bags for me out of my car! She has not abandoned me!”

Me: “Hey, I’m back. They were exactly where you said they were. No problems. Hey, [Manager], how about we get this lovely lady checked out and you can tell me off later, yeah? Hey, boys, want a treat?”

(Between us, we get everything packed up in record time. Her kids calm down, and their mom visibly de-stresses and feels a lot better. As she turns to go:)

Customer: “Thank you so much! Hope you don’t get into trouble!”

(When I arrived for my next shift, I got called into the manager’s office where I found a letter addressed to me. Turned out the lady’s husband was the CEO of one of my company’s suppliers, and the letter was to make sure I wouldn’t get in trouble for what I did. Instead, I was complimented on my level of service, and I was also offered a small gift, which I chose to donate to the local food bank. I never saw the lady again, but her husband comes in for his lunch occasionally and always makes sure to ask after me, and when he found out I was trying to change career, he offered me a new job!)

I have an anxiety disorder, and while it’s normally manageable, I do get the occasional panic attack. Normally, I can work through them and function like normal while my brain and body are throwing a fit. Today, however, I had a panic attack out of the blue while driving on the most infamously dangerous highway in my area.

My vision was starting to white out, my hands were shaking too much to steer, and my legs were shaking too much to work the pedals, so I pulled over onto the shoulder and put my hazards on while I tried to calm down. In the time I took to try to calm down, I was nearly hit by another car four times, which only made the situation worse.

I finally called my insurance to request a tow truck to get me safely off the road. They said they could get a truck to me in about an hour — an hour of being stuck on the side of the highway, with my life in immediate danger.

Not five minutes later, a tow truck pulled onto the shoulder. The driver was from an unaffiliated company, but he could get me home immediately. Scared for my life, I accepted his services, and he helped me out of my car — I was shaking too badly to walk normally — and into his truck. He then hooked up my car and took me home.

On the way home, he told me he was waiving all the fees except the car hookup fee, which he had to charge. Mileage fees? Waived. When we got to my home, he even gave me some paperwork to submit to my insurance company to try to recoup my losses from the fee he charged me. He asked me repeatedly if I needed to go to the hospital — I didn’t, panic attacks can be handled at home — and even talked to my best friend on the phone to confirm. Still, he waited outside my building until I got inside before driving off.

He got me home safely, he probably saved my life, and he didn’t have to do any of that. Sometimes I wonder about humanity, but with all the good he did for me, he restored my hope!

(I am the front desk manager at a hotel, and I recently hired a new employee to work the front desk. He has only worked two three-hour training shifts so far but it is already obvious that he is not going to work out. While he seems to be learning our reservation system easily, the guy has zero customer service skills and is incapable of following even the simplest of directions. He needs to be guided by the hand like a child in everything he does, no matter how many times he has done it. I’ve already told my boss that if I don’t see any improvement at his next shift I am going to let him go and start holding new interviews. This is the afternoon after his second shift. I stop in at a fast food restaurant to get supper for my kids and me when I hear a commotion at the front. A group of young guys are making a scene and harassing the cashier. The ringleader of the group happens to be my new employee, still in his uniform and name tag.)

My New Employee: “Look, [gay slur], you may not realize how things work in the real world but the customer is always right! I told you I want a [burger from Competitor] and I don’t care if it’s not on your menu. You will figure out how to make one and you will sell me one!”

Fast Food Employee: “I’m sorry, but I can only punch in what is on the keypad. Like I told you, the closest thing we have is [Signature Burger], which has similar toppings, but we don’t carry the sauce they use. You could—“

My New Employee: “NO! We’ve been through this. You’re not going to make me look like an idiot in front of my friends! I know I’ve ordered this before. I’m not stupid. I know you can, so just shut up and do your job or get me someone else who can!”

Fast Food Employee: “Well… Okay, let me get my manager and maybe…”

My New Employee: “Holy f***! Really?! Just punch the f****** order in and make my burger happen! I know customer service! I know what it means to please your customer and do your job properly. Now, punch in the burger that I ordered; I know you have a button for it and I expect to be heavily discounted for all this trouble! God… you young people today. I would never hire someone like you at my company.”

(I’ve had enough, both because he’s holding up the line and making me wait, and also because I can’t believe I almost let someone with this kind of attitude serve my customers and work with my staff. The manager, who has been stuck at the drive-thru this whole time, finally has enough and comes over to deal with the situation, but I can’t help myself and step in.)

Me: “Hey, [My New Employee], so, uh, what kind of pull do you have exactly? What kind of authority does six hours of receptionist training give you in the ‘real world’?”

(He turns and looks at me as though he is going to say something when a look of recognition flashes on his face and he immediately goes pale.)

My New Employee: “Oh, uh, hey, [My Name], I was, um… trying to teach this guy about customer service just like you taught me. You made me understand how important it is and… uh… I’m trying to help him, you know? I really love my job and all, and I really need my job so uh…” *chuckles* “…yeah.”

Me: “Look, I don’t care what resolution the manager gives you here tonight, but you can drop off your uniform and name tag at my office tomorrow morning. I’m not going to have somebody with an attitude like yours serving my customers. Now, please, do us all a favor and go to [Competitor] to get your burger like any normal person would do and let the rest of us get our food so we can get on with our lives and pretend that you don’t exist.”

My New Employee: “Wait, why do I have to drop off my uniform? Do you guys, like, wash it for us?”

(Some people laugh, and his group of friends groan and start to leave.)

Me: “Really? Dude, you’re fired. When you go out in public with our uniform on, you are representing our company, and I will not have you making us look bad. Please go home and take those clothes, drop them off tomorrow, and don’t ever speak to me or come near our building again.”

My New Employee: *stands there quietly as he begins to realize what has just gone down and then starts to cry* “Oh, man. Oh, man! I can’t believe this! No!”

(I ended up getting the employee discount on my order, and I made sure to leave a nice tip for the young man that was getting yelled at. The guy did drop off his uniform and tried to ask for a second chance, which he didn’t get.)