(A guy walks into a bakery, looking uncomfortable. As I’m looking at the cupcakes, I overhear the conversation.)

Guy: “Do you have something… gay?”

Cashier: “Gay, sir?”

Guy: “Yeah… like rainbows or something. Do you have something gay?”

Cashier: “Um… We could certainly make a rainbow cake. What’s the occasion?”

Guy: “See, one of my employees, he was talking about his birthday coming up, and he said he was going to celebrate it with his partner, Richard. And then he kind of… Well, I think I was kind of shocked. So, I want to let him know I’m okay with the gay thing. Do you have anything like that?”

Cashier: *lights up* “Absolutely, sir! I have some pictures of our rainbow decorations, here. Would you like a cupcake or a full cake? We also have mini personal-size cakes.”

(The guy spent a while looking at designs and trying to find a good cake. As a gay person, this really warmed my heart. It proves that you don’t have to understand something or be comfortable with it to be good about it.)

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(I am 17, and a cashier at a big pharmacy store. I work at the front registers, while the pharmacy and pharmacy registers are in the back of the store, out of view. If people are purchasing items in the store and also picking up a prescription, then the pharmacy is allowed to ring up their purchases, as well, with the exception of alcohol. A man walks from the back of the store carrying two large cases of beer. I start to move away from the door and head to a register to ring him up; however, before I even make it two steps, I stop, as the guy is still walking straight towards me. Without thinking, I put out my hand and stop him; it seems to surprise him that a small girl would physically stop him, especially as he is more than twice my size. Instead of faltering or backing down, I stand firm.)

Me: “Sir, I’m sorry, but I have to get you to go over to the register to check you out before I can allow you to leave with that.”

Man: “Oh, don’t worry, little lady; I already paid for this in the pharmacy.”

Me: “Sir, if that is the case, then I do apologize, but I will need to look at your receipt just to verify. I hope you understand.”

Man: “Well, I don’t have my receipt; I told them they could keep it.”

(I’ve already broken one rule by physically touching the man, but I’m not going to break another by outright accusing him of theft.)

Me: “In that case, please let me walk back there with you so that we can clear this up with them. You see, it’s against store policy to ever ring up alcohol back at the pharmacy, so I really need to know who rang you up so that they can be dealt with appropriately. If you are still unwilling to do this, then I am going to have to ask you to either let me ring you up for a second time, or you can leave the beer here, but without actual proof of purchase I cannot allow you to leave the store with the beer.”

(The man just kind of looks at me for about twenty seconds and then glances over to my supervisor, who is still standing next to the door. However, she is in her 60s, and I’m sure this man could probably overpower both of us. Luckily, things end rather well. The man looks back at me and sits both cases of beer on the floor.)

Man: “All right, here you go. I’ll go ahead and leave now.”

(With that, the man actually just walks out of the store. After he is gone, my supervisor turns to me with the most shocked expression on her face, and I can feel my heart about to explode out of my chest.)

Me: “Oh, no. Did I actually just physically stop a man and then keep him from shoplifting?! I can’t believe that just happened.”

Supervisor: “Yeah, I’ve never seen something like that before, but please, next time, just let him walk out of the store. It’s not worth your life trying to stop someone from getting a couple of cases of beer. You never know if someone is crazy, or drunk, or just doesn’t care.”

(I work in a call centre that’s open 24 hours a day, 365 days a year. We’ve just experienced a huge snow storm, which is completely out of the ordinary for Ireland, and the call centre had to close for two days. When we reopen, it is incredibly busy, and customers are furious at how long it is taking to get through. Then, I get this lady.)

Me: “Hello, you’re through to customer services. This is [My Name] speaking. Apologies for the long wait, and thank you for holding. How can I help you?”

Customer: “Hi! How are you?”

Me: “I’m good, thank you. How are you?”

Customer: “Oh, don’t worry about me. You’re obviously very busy today.”

Me: “Yes, I do apologise about that. We’re just experiencing a backlog after being closed because of the snow. I can log a complaint for you, if you wish?”

Customer: “Oh no, no, no. I used to work in a call centre myself. Tell me, what’s your target handling time for calls?”

Me: *confused* “Um, five minutes?”

Customer: “Okay, so I’ve been speaking to you for just under a minute. That means I can continue to talk to you for four minutes without ruining your stats.”

Me: “Okay. And what can I help you with today?”

Customer: “Oh, nothing at all. I just know how awful the customers must be treating you today, so I wanted to ring and have a friendly chat so your day isn’t all bad. I’m ringing the call centres of any suppliers I use and doing the same thing. You shouldn’t be shouted at all day because it snowed.”

(She genuinely had no query, and just filled the next few minutes with idle chit-chat. She just wanted at least one person to get a nice call on what was an otherwise awful day. We were so busy that she must have waited nearly an hour just to be nice to someone for five minutes!)

(My mom got a cat she named Sandy while she was an officer in the military. Sandy was declawed in her front paws before my mom got her. When she moved to a house on a mountain, she took extra precautions to make sure Sandy was in her house at night, afraid that Sandy would be eaten by a wild animal. Come time for her to move, and the moving company comes to take her furniture. She cannot find Sandy.)

Mom: “Have you seen my cat?”

Mover #1: “Sorry, ma’am, I haven’t.”

Mom: *to another mover* “Have you seen my cat?”

Mover #2: “Sorry–“

(Suddenly, a German Shepherd with its tail between its legs darts between the mover and my mom, followed by a sand-colored streak. My mom’s jaw drops.)

Mover #2: “Ma’am, I don’t think you have to worry a thing about that cat.”

(He was right. Sandy stayed with Mom for over ten more years. Her most arduous trial was tolerating her owner’s first baby pulling her tail.)

(I work in a popular ladies clothing store. It is a busy Saturday afternoon, with a line of customers. Our state offers tax-exempt shopping for customers from certain nearby states.)

Customer: “I’m an Alaska resident; I’m tax-free.”

Me: *jokingly, with a smile* “Prove it! I’ll need your driver’s licence or ID.”

(The customer rolls her eyes and tosses her licence at me silently. I cross to the other side of the register counter and pick up the paperwork I need to complete the tax-exempt sale.)

Customer’s Friend: “Ugh. Can you go ANY slower?”

Me: *smiles* “Yes.” *I start writing more slowly and carefully, and take my time typing in the computer and carefully folding all her items* “Thank you for shopping at [Store].”