(I’m the idiot customer in this one. I’m ordering my drink after much deliberation, having already held up the queue for a good minute longer than I needed to purely because I am exhausted and flustered.)

Me: “Umm… Okay, I think I’ll have a salted caramel hot chocolate, please.”

Barista: “Sure thing.”

(He gives me a friendly smile; he has been patient throughout.)

Me: *relaxing enough to suddenly realize I missed something important* “Oh! Make sure it’s decaf, please. I’ve not been sleeping well, and the last thing I need is to make it worse.”

Barista: *doesn’t have the heart to point out that there’s no caffeine in a hot chocolate* “Sure thing, hon.”

Me: *super relieved, and relaxes enough to work out my own error* “Sorry…”

Barista: “Don’t worry about it; we all have those days.” *gives me another awesome smile and a free chocolate flake*

(Thank God for the kindness of strangers.)

(I work at fast food restaurant which is known to not only make food only when you order it, but also has tacos that people absolutely love, served among the burgers and other items. It’s Black Friday, and the location I’m at is directly across from a popular national box store, so we’ve been pretty swamped. To make matters worse, we’ve run out of those precious tacos until our delivery arrives. People have not been kind about the lack of tacos, at all. We have a monster-sized taco, about the size of two and a quarter or so of the regular tacos, but it is more expensive. The lunch rush has just started to die down when a couple comes in and makes their order. Of course the husband wants tacos, and I’m dreading telling him.)

Me: “I’m sorry to let you know… we’re out of the tacos until the truck arrives in about two hours. We don’t have any until then.”

(I’m bracing for the tirade I’ve heard for the previous two hours straight.)

Customer: “Oh, well… D***. Do, uh… do you happen to have those big tacos?”

Me: “Uh… ye… yeah! We still have those!”

Customer: “OKAY! I’ll do one of those.” *turns to his wife* “Cutie, serious, they’re like… this big. The size of your freaking face. They’re pretty much two tacos in one freaking taco!”

(His wife chuckles and rolls her eyes.)

Customer: “What can you do? It’s Black Friday and those tacos are disgustingly addictive. At least you have the big ones.”

(This has actually put me in a much better mood, so I stutter a thank-you and adjust the price down to what two tacos would normally be.)

Customer’s Wife: “Oh, you didn’t need to do that. It’s fine if it’s a bit more.”

Me: “No, it’s okay. Like he said, it’s basically two tacos in one, anyway. You have a great day!”

Both: “Thank you so much; Merry Christmas!”

Customer: “…even though it’s still a bit early to say it!”

(Thank you. Both of you. Thank you for being understanding and giving me a boost when I needed it the most! The truck even arrived a little early, and I suggested the big tacos to everyone right away when people asked for the two regular tacos… and they were all very understanding, too. Thank you for giving me that idea through your act of understanding, as well.)

(Three weeks after the sudden loss of my daughter, I decide it’s time to take off the plastic hospital bracelet that matched hers, and have it replaced with an engraved bracelet. I find a store that carries jewelry, keepsakes, photo albums, dishware, awards, meaningful gifts, etc., that can all be engraved or personalized. I find a very nice silver bracelet and take it up to the counter to ask about having it engraved. There are two women, and the older one gestures to the younger one to help me while she’s with another customer. The younger woman comes over to me.)

Woman: *brightly* “Hi. How are you? What can I do for you today?”

Me: “Hi. I was hoping to get this bracelet engraved, and I’m wondering if there’s a character limit here.”

(The young woman turns to her coworker, and the coworker hands her a catalogue inventory book. The woman turns back to me.)

Woman: *flipping through book* “Thank you so much for your patience. Today is my first day. Okay, what did you want to have put on it?”

Me: “[Daughter’s Full Name], and I was wondering if I’d be able to get a couple of dates on the charm?”

(In addition to the main part of the bracelet, there is a small, heart-shaped charm near the clasp.)

Woman: “Of course!” *pulling out an order form and starts writing* “Okay, so, it was [Daughter’s Full Name]. And then on the charm…”

Me: *gives daughter’s birthdate*

Woman: *writing, pause* “You said a couple. Was there another date?”

Me: *deep breath* “Yes. To [date a few months later].”

(The young woman stops. She looks at me. I can feel my eyes starting to water.)

Woman: *quietly* “Was this your baby?”

(I nod, struggling to hold back tears. She steps forward and wraps her arms around me, giving me a warm hug.)

Woman: *stepping back* “My sister lost her baby. It’s been fourteen years; it’s still hard. But you will get through this.”

(I pulled myself together, and we finished placing the order and agreed to pick up in about an hour. When I returned, the young woman recognized me as I walked in and had everything ready by the time I got to the counter. Everything looked absolutely beautiful. It may have been her first day, but I think she will do very well in this particular shop. Her warmth and kindness gives me hope.)

(I’m ordering food from a popular fast food chain. I see an advertisement outside about their new chicken sandwich. Inside, there’s only one other customer, and the cashier.)

Me: *to the cashier* “Sorry, do you happen to have the nutritional info on the new [Sandwich]?”

Cashier: “I don’t know for certain, but it might be on the board over there.”

(She gestures to the board on the wall showing nutrition facts for most of their items. I check the board and it’s not there. This makes sense, as it’s a new item.)

Me: “Nah, it’s not there. I’m sorry; I’m just bad at making decisions.”

(A customer who has been standing to the side chimes in.)

Customer: “Ah, c’mon, man! You can be good to yourself tomorrow; just get the thing, already!”

Me: “I’ve been good to myself today. This is my only meal!”

Cashier: “Exactly! You can worry about nutrients later!”

Customer: “Yeah, dude, you deserve this! It’s the holiday season, after all!”

Me: “All right, fine. I’ll get the [Sandwich] with fries and a diet [Soda].”

Customer: “See, there you go! A diet soda cancels out all the calories!”

Me: “Yeah, but haven’t you heard? Aspartame cancer, apparently.”

Cashier: “Cancer can wait. Besides, we’ll have a cure by the time you’re old!”

(We all shared a laugh. This exchange guaranteed I’ll be going back!)

(I work in a bakery. We mark down items that are due off the shelf that day for quick sale, as well as anything that is damaged. A woman comes up to me carrying a loaf of our expensive cheese and garlic bread that I KNOW is fresh, because I just baked and put it out myself.)

Customer: “You need to mark this down for me!”

Me: “Hi, ma’am, nice to see you. What’s wrong with it?”

Customer: “Are you blind? What kind of standards do you have? The top is all squished!”

(Note that while the rest of the loaves we bake and sell have rounded tops, the way this bread is baked, combined with the toppings and other ingredients, means it always comes out brick-shaped. It even comes with its own special label that we affix that has a photo of it on the front, showing how it’s supposed to look. She does not listen when I point this out.)

Customer: “[Company] is supposed to be all about quality… Does this look like quality to you?”

(She’s getting more and more obstinate, even jabbing a finger at my chest. Normally, I wouldn’t care enough to fight her on it, since I can issue markdowns easily, but I am not about to enable her attitude.)

Me: “It looks as it was intended to look, ma’am.”

Customer: “Don’t get smart with me. Do you want me to get your manager over a discount I know you can make?”

Me: “You know what? You’re right. I’m sorry. I see your point now. This is unacceptable.”

(She hands me the bread, looking incredibly smug… right until I crush it into a ball in front of her and nearly spike it into the trash can, still smiling politely at her.)

Me: “Obviously, we can’t offer such shoddy product to our customers. Thank you for letting me know so I could dispose of it. Have a good day!”

(While at the time it was easily one of the most satisfying moments I’ve ever had at work, in hindsight I’m amazed she didn’t go try to get me fired. Instead, she just stared at me looking startled and confused, then turned and ambled off like nothing had happened.)