(I’m a pre-med student shadowing a doctor to get some experience before I apply to medical school. We’re in the back office, where the doctors all convene at the end of the day to go over their patients and any potential problems or things that need coordinating. The doctor I’m shadowing is [Doctor #1].)

Doctor #1: “Here’s a problem, guys. This patient needs five rounds of chemotherapy, and now, four rounds in, his insurance decides they aren’t covering it, and he definitely can’t afford it on his own.”

Doctor #2: “That’s bulls***. Give me the case file. I’ll drop it with [Office Social Worker], and if she doesn’t have the insurance company begging to pay for it within three days, she’s not the magician I think she is.”

Doctor #3: “What if it takes longer, though? He’s scheduled to get his last round on Friday, four days from now.”

Doctor #1: “If it looks like it’ll take longer, we give him the chemo, anyway. If the insurance comes through, we’ll forward-date it to the time when he’s covered. If [Office Social Worker] just can’t make it happen, though, we give him the chemo, anyway, and request a round from [Free Charity Hospital] to be delivered here, since he’s getting all his stuff done here. It’ll take a few weeks for it to be delivered, but our next inventory isn’t for a month. That’ll give us time to get it into our system so our numbers match. One way or another, this guy is getting his chemo on Friday.”

(Later, as we’re getting ready to leave, I ask:)

Me: “Should I have been in the room for that? It’s not really fraud, but altering the dates on the paperwork is definitely not something they’ll go over in med school.”

Doctor #1: “That’s exactly why I wanted you in the room for that discussion. That’s a thing you need to learn early and well: how to get your patients the care they need, even when the paperwork or the insurance isn’t exactly right. None of what we were discussing was completely kosher, but it wasn’t completely illegal, either, and more importantly, it’s the right thing to do. Your job as a doctor is to take care of your patients, no matter what else gets in the way.”

(It was an important lesson, and one I learned well. I’m starting my residency now, and at least once a week, I find myself wondering, “What would [Doctor #1] do?” It’s yet to steer me wrong!)

(I work in a hospital. I am a cis woman, but since I am tall and broad-shouldered with short hair, I do occasionally get misgendered by young children, and adults who aren’t wearing their glasses. This doesn’t bother me, particularly because about half the time people are specifically talking about how “tall and handsome” I am, and I will happily take that compliment. When I tell people about these incidents, they usually either apologize or reassure me that I’m very pretty and feminine. However, this elderly gentleman blows my mind with his response.)

Elderly Patient: *to a group of ladies dozing in their wheelchairs by the television* “See? These ladies aren’t nearly as lucky as me; I get a beautiful young woman to stroll around with me, and there aren’t any handsome young men to take them walking!”

Me: *jokingly* “Well, if you’re not wearing your glasses, I can pass for a man!”

Elderly Patient: *completely serious* “Oh, are you trying to tell me something?”

Me: “Oh, no, I just meant with my hair—”

Elderly Patient: “No, no, I think you’re trying to say something. Which do you prefer?”

Me: *very conscious of being in a somewhat conservative, faith-based workplace, where I don’t know most of the staff yet* “Oh, I mean—”

Elderly Patient: “Because let me tell you, it doesn’t matter to me if you prefer one, or the other, or both. None of that matters as much as being a good person.”

Me: “I completely agree—”

Elderly Patient: “You know, I’m 97, and I know I talk too much. I can see I’ve embarrassed you. No, don’t say I haven’t, because I have. But you know what? We’re all individuals in this life. It doesn’t matter which one you want to be. As long as you’re trying to be a good person and not hurt anyone, none of the rest of that matters.”

(For the ten minutes that it took us to walk back to his room, I received something between a lecture and a pep talk about my intrinsic value as a human being, regardless of my supposed trans or non-binary identity. I have heard some awful stories about how people treat the LGBTQ+ community, but this gentleman gave me hope for humanity.)

This story is part of the Awesome Old People roundup!

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It’s a tradition in my family that when a child graduates from high school, their parents get them a nice used car to replace the hand-me-down they drove once they got their license. The complication happened when my sister and I graduated high school: because we are twins and my family was going through move, my parents didn’t get us a car. My sister and I were going to the same college, so we just kept using the same old Jeep. It was a typical first car; the air conditioning sucked and it was pretty old, but it got us from point A to point B so we didn’t complain. My father, though, felt guilty that he wasn’t able to keep up the tradition with us, especially since six years earlier he’d gotten my brother his own car.

We went through college with this Jeep, and every year my father promised that “this will be the year you get your own car.” It didn’t happen, so we kind of just ignored it; the Jeep worked well enough. Still, he constantly tried to figure out the kind of cars we would want, and the color.

My sister and I went to a famous SEC school that had a huge football team in the 90s. Their school colors are orange and white, and I’m his football child. So, when he asked me what color car I wanted, I said, “Believe it or not, I really like that kind of dark orange color.” My dad laughed and said, “Trust me, I’ll never find one in that color.” I laughed, agreed, and said I’d be happy with any color or even just keeping the Jeep. I didn’t care that much.

My sister and I were in our last year of college and I was preparing to apply to masters programs. My father was determined to get us the promised cars, but we honestly didn’t believe him. He had a make and model that he thought I would like, and was looking through used car listings when he saw a picture of one and couldn’t believe it. It was the exact car he wanted to get me in the same dark orange color I’d wanted but didn’t think anyone would find.

He went straight to that dealership, determined to get that very car. He started talking to the salesman and he brought up the color, noting that it probably wasn’t a very popular color, especially in Georgia, where my father was.

The dealer agreed and kept talking about how it was possible to get it repainted, trying to make the color not that big of a deal. My dad kept saying things like, “I really like it; I just don’t know about this color. Orange? In Georgia? I don’t know.”

He wound up getting the sales guy to lower the price a bit more. My dad signed on the dotted line, got into the car, and was ready to drive off. But he couldn’t resist.

He lowered the window to talk to the salesman one last time. “By the way, the car is for my daughter. She goes to [University]. She’s going to love this color.”

He drove away laughing; the sales guy laughed, too. He knew he’d been out negotiated in the funniest way.

I still drive that orange car every day; I love it to death. Thanks, Dad!

(I work in a currency exchange. A customer approaches and asks for the tax-free service we do to non-EU customers. He’s very happy and nice, and he makes jokes and laughs all the time. The transaction is almost done when he asks:)

Customer: “You both look tired! How long have you been there?”

Colleague: “She’s here since 3:00 pm; I’m here since 11:00 am.”

Customer: “NO WAY! Is that why you’re drinking hot chocolate?”

Me: “Yes! And tomorrow I get her shift, and I’m going to stay here from 11:00 am to 7:00 pm.”

Customer: “OH! You get the bad shift tomorrow! I’ll be back, then!”

Me: *joking* “Then bring chocolate!”

Customer: “Sure! See you tomorrow”

(The customer doesn’t come back, and I forget about him. A few days later, in the same location…)

Customer: “Here you are! We’ve been looking for you for two days; we came with chocolate, but you weren’t there! What time do you close?”

Me: “8:30 pm.”

Customer: “I’ll be back before you close!”

(He actually came back with a chocolate pastry, hugged me, and said goodbye! He was one of the most pleasant customers I’ve ever had! Thank you, happy guy!)

Related:
Chocolate Cures All, Part 2
Chocolate Cures All

(I’ve had a rough couple of months, splitting up with my abusive partner, changing stores for work, and moving to a new place. I have scraped together basic furniture but have no luxuries like a washing machine, TV, or stereo. I also regularly walk 35 minutes to work, then wait 45 minutes in the dark to catch the last bus home. My closest friends and family all live in another state, about a 10-hour drive away. This year my birthday falls on a long weekend. My best friend rings me early on the Friday morning.)

Best Friend: “Hey, how are you? Sorry if I woke you.”

Me: “No, that’s okay. I’ve got to see if the laundromat is open today, anyway. I’m okay. How are you?”

Best Friend: “I’m good. Since I got a bonus at work, [Housemate], [Close Friend], [Other Close Friend], and I are on a road trip down the coast. Just thought I’d check in on you.”

Me: “Oh, that’s sweet. I hope you guys have a good time. Say hi to everyone.”

Best Friend: “Will do. Any plans for your birthday?”

Me: “Nope. Just some housework.”

(We chatted for a few minutes before hanging up. A few minutes later, there was a knock at my door. I opened it to find my friends. My best friend had bought me a good secondhand car with six months rego on it, a new washing machine and dryer, TV, and stereo, among other little things. My friends then hired a trailer, packed up the car, and made the long trip to surprise me for my birthday. They had booked a nice motel, took me shopping for new clothes, out for dinner on my birthday and sightseeing around the city, before flying home on Sunday, without me spending a cent. My best friend had spent pretty much all of the money from his bonus on the car and other things for my flat, while my other friends had pooled their money and paid for their flights, the motel, and shopping. I will be ever grateful for their love and support.)

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