(I’m the customer in this situation, and have just pulled up to the order box at an ice cream and burger joint.)

Employee: “Hi! Thank you for choosing [Store]. What can I get started for you today?”

Me: “Hi! May I please have a grande M&M [Shake] with extra M&Ms?”

Employee: “I’m terribly sorry; what size did you say?”

Me: “A grande! And may I please have it in a venti cup so I don’t spill ice cream over the side?”

Employee: “I can put a medium [Shake] into a large cup for you, if that’s okay?”

Me: *light clicks on upstairs* “I just ordered in [Coffee Shop] lingo, didn’t I?”

Employee: *laughing* “Yes, ma’am, you did!”

Me: *at the window* “May I share with you why I ordered incorrectly?”

(The order-taker nods, and I hold up my work hat and apron, both in [Coffee Shop]’s signature color and emblazoned with our logo.)

Me: “I just got off work. I’ve been repeating back orders as grande and venti all day!”

Employee: *laughing, to her coworker* “Hey, go ahead and throw an extra-extra scoop of M&Ms in that [Shake]; she’s been slingin’ coffee all day!”

(Thank you, kind person, for being patient with me, and for giving me more chocolate. One can never have enough chocolate.)

(I work in a high-end department store known for its excellent customer service. In fact, one of our mottos is, “We wear smiles, not name tags.” We’re trained to smile and ask customers if they’re finding everything all right when they’re in our department, if they’re not already being helped by someone else. I’m currently ringing up a gentleman in my department when a young woman runs over to him from the ladies’ shoe department.)

Dad: “Did you find any you like?”

Daughter: “No, I can’t stay over there. There are too many salespeople.”

Dad: “Were they being too aggressive?”

Daughter: “No, they were all just asking me if I was doing okay. I can’t stay over there!”

Dad: *long pause* “Honey, this is [Store], and that’s their job. That’s why I shop here. Let’s go to [Other Store]; they’ll ignore you there.”

(Thanks, Dad, for recognizing and appreciating the difference between being attentive and being aggressive.)

(I work for one of the largest supermarkets in the UK, delivering groceries to customers at home. One of the worst aspects of the job is stairs. I often have to take shopping weighing 80 to 180 kg up multiple flights of stairs. Customers often aren’t willing to help at all, and often the response when asking is, “That’s what I pay you for.” There have been two exceptions to this that make me feel good about humanity. The first comes back when I first start working. I have a delivery of about 120 kg that I have to take up three floors. I carry the first tray up and go back for the remaining six, thinking that doing it one at a time is doable but will make me late for my next delivery. Just as I hit the ground floor, the door to the block opens and two young guys come in.)

Guy: “Is that for [Flat Number]?”

Me: “Yes, it is!”

Guy: “We got this.”

(They both grab two trays each and RUN up the stairs. As a man, I can’t allow myself to be outdone, and carry the last two trays up behind. I thank them both for the help, but they just shrug it off, saying:)

Guy: “We’re all humans and need to help one another out.”

(The second came when I had been having a pretty rough day. It was during the heatwave, and I had just had a customer with a big order up several flights of stairs. I had drunk all my water and I was exhausted. I got to my next customer around fifteen minutes late. She was sat outside her house, and I thought I was in for a lecture. However, she was incredibly patient with me and understanding about the substitutes, and despite being wheelchair-bound, she helped as best she could to take shopping indoors. She then insisted I take not only a can of Coke but two bottles of cold water. Some customers don’t seem to think delivery people are humans at all, but the rare times we get a little kindness go a long way!)

This story is part of our Heatwave roundup!

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I come from a very religious family. As such, I was never given any formal sex-ed talk.

I was 12 and I was at the mall by myself. I went into the washroom and found blood in my underwear. I completely panicked and ran into the closest store.

In this store, there was one female worker, but the rest of the store was empty. In tears, I begged her to call my family to come get me because clearly I was dying.

The woman calmed me down and gave me an adhesive pad. After explaining what it was and how to use it, she let me use the staff-only washroom in the back. She then gave me the whole sex talk my parents and my religious school had failed to tell me. She only told me because I was so freaked out and confused. I don’t think she knew I was religious; she just thought I was super innocent and my parents didn’t tell me s***.

I never told my parents what this employee said. My parents acted like my period was shameful and discouraged any discussion about it, besides saving sex for marriage, when I went home that night. Before I went to bed, my mom handed me a package of pads and a book about Virgin Mary. She didn’t explain how to use them, the difference between wings and no wings, etc., like the woman in the store had. I would’ve been so overwhelmed if it weren’t for that woman.

The following year, I was taught about how abstinence is the best birth control, but nothing like what that employee taught me. I had to be the one to teach my friends about their own bodies, and I am so grateful for what that employee did. I have friends who are in their early 20s just learning what I learned when I was 12.

This woman saved my teen years.

(I have my own personal Cheers-type bar that I’ve been going to for so long that my friends and I know everyone from the bouncer to the owners, and almost everyone in between. My girl friends and I love going there because they have great drinks and a great atmosphere, and we know we’ll be safe. We’re having a Girls’ Night Out one night, all of us sitting in a horseshoe-shaped booth with me at one end and the rest of my friends scrunched in close so we can hear each other better, when some guy saunters up, drags a chair over from another table, spins it, and straddles it next to me.)

Guy: *grinning* “Heeeeyyyy, ladies.”

(My girlfriends tend to be a bit more shy, my best friend having social anxiety, so they look to me.)

Me: *smiling, trying to be polite* “Hey, we’re kind of having a girls’ night here and, ah, sorry but you don’t qualify, so if you could give us some space, please?”

Guy: *still grinning* “Nah, it’s fine. I’ll stick around.”

Me: *now annoyed and letting him see it* “It’s actually not fine, because I’ve asked you to leave and you’re still here.”

Guy: *STILL with that stupid grin* “Nah, nah, it’s fine. You don’t want me to leave.”

Me: *glaring, voice hard* “Yes, we do, now f*** off.”

Guy: “Nah, you don’t want me to leave.”

(My friends are all nervous and I’m pissed, but this creep is effectively blocking me into the booth. Fortunately, I have the bouncer’s phone number, so I shoot him a quick text letting him know there’s a situation. From where we’re sitting I can see him at the door, and I watch him check his phone and look around for me. When I catch his eye, he points at the guy, who’s still blathering on about who knows what, and I nod. The bouncer pockets his phone and walks over. I should note that the bouncer is rather large, broad-shouldered, and kind of looks like a pirate with his impressive goatee, multiple piercings, and intricate tattoos. He’ll never start a fight, but he will ALWAYS end one. He walks up behind the guy and casually places one very large hand on his shoulder and leans on it. The guy immediately goes silent and stares up at him.)

Bouncer: *very calm* “I believe these ladies asked you to leave. You were just about to, weren’t you?”

Guy: *nervous and squeaking a little* “Yes.”

Bouncer: *still calm* “And you’re going to leave them alone?” *the guy just nods quickly* “Good. Then we don’t have a problem.”

(The bouncer slowly leans back with a smile and the guy scurries off.)

Bouncer: “You okay, girls? He didn’t lay a hand on any of you, or get near your drinks?”

(We assure him that we’re fine and thank him for his assistance.)

Bouncer: “All right, well, you let me know if he or anyone else gives you any trouble, okay? Enjoy your night.”

(He gave me a hug and went back to the door, and my friends and I enjoyed our girls’ night in peace. I love that bar!)