(The middle school where I teach likes to ease into things at the beginning of the year, so we don’t get our class lists until the Friday of the first week of school. The days leading up to that day are full of fun activities for students. Usually that means they are quite crazy and chatty, which I fully expect for the first few days, especially since my grade seven class last year was super chatty and had trouble with lining up in the hall. I get my group and we have an activity in the art room first thing.)

Me: “I need a volunteer.”

(A student volunteers.)

Me: “Okay, [Student] is our line leader. He’s going to stand outside, everyone is going to line up single-file behind him, and we’re going to go to art.”

(As my students leave, I grab my supplies and get out there as quickly as I can to meet the students. I’m expecting some chaos, but I emerge outside to all my students lined up perfectly and silently, waiting for me.)

Me: “…”

Students: *waiting patiently*

Me: “What the… all right.”

(They continue this kind of behaviour all day, which is amazing, but throws me off a bit. Later on, one of my older students, who is at the high school, comes to visit and I relay that story to them.)

High-School Student: “The grade tens don’t even do that!”

(So, great job, students I had that day. Sorry if I appeared confused; your awesomeness astounded me!)

(I work for a bulk store that also has a little eatery inside where you can purchase freshly-made food like pizza and hotdogs. I am wearing slacks and a polo shirt, which is the requirement for my area. I don’t have on my lanyard with my name tag, because I’m on my lunch break in line for the eatery. There are two older ladies who are in front of me, with three or so people in line in front of them, and they look me up and down a few times before it clicks in their minds.)

Lady #1: *with a sound of concern* “Do you work here?”

Me: “Yeah, I’m on my lunch break right now.”

Lady #2: “Then you have to go in front of us!”

Me: “Oh, no, that’s fine. You don’t need to—”

Lady #1: *cutting me off and gently taking my arm to move me in front of her* “Yes, I do! You’re on a time limit; you go right ahead!”

Me: “Are you sure?”

Lady #1: “Oh, yes. We used to work for a living, too; we know how it is.”

Me: *touched, because this has never happened before* “Thank you! You know, in almost five years, you two ladies are the first people to ever let me go ahead of them.”

Lady #2: “I bet that’s because you’re not wearing your vest or your name tag! You should try that; I bet it’ll happen more often!”

(I didn’t have the heart to tell them that I don’t usually wear my name tag on my lunch breaks, because every time I forget someone sees it and spends the whole time either trying to ask me about what specials we’re going to have in six months, which they’ll know about before we do, or complaining about someone who made them wait five minutes while they helped another customer. These two ladies lit up my entire week with that little show of kindness on their part.)

(I work in a resort known for its ski location. Because of this, we get a lot of people from different provinces and countries. There is quite a difference in altitude where I work, so a lot of younger guests, who go out for drinks at our pub, end up getting a lot more drunk than they probably meant to. Until you’re accustomed to it, altitude combined with drinking the same amount you could 5000 meters below where we are can be a deadly mix. There have been a few times where we’ve had to remove people from the hotel due to disturbing other guests, refusing to quiet down, and insulting and swearing at our front desk agents or security. We do have an RCMP station not far from us, but if we can get the party to cooperate with us, we prefer not to call them, since it is still a bit of a drive for them. One night, I’m working the night audit shift. I know there have been a few noise complaints on one room, and that they have been giving our overnight security a hard time. So, unsurprisingly, they end up in our front lobby, and security asks me to call the RCMP. We’ve worked together a while, and the security officer knows I have a pretty good method of turning off the situation without actually having to get the cops involved, which is why he didn’t call them himself. I pick up the phone and pretend to dial a number. Because of the desk design, guests can’t see that I’m not actually dialing anything.)

Guest: *angry* “You’re actually calling the cops? I’m not doing anything wrong! This is a resort! I’m allowed to have fun here!

(And so begins the rant of how he’s on vacation, and it’s against his rights to kick him out just for having a few drinks, plus some name calling.)

Me: *as straight faced as I can* “Actually, I’m not calling the cops; we’re not in a jurisdiction, so we have to deal with our own problems.”

Guest: *a little concerned* “Who are you calling?”

Me: “Our bear people.”

(We have about 300 grizzly bears that live in the surrounding area, something we are proud about and advertise. “Bear people” is our nickname for the rangers who specialize in conditioning the bears to avoid hikers, campers, etc.)

Guest: “Why? What do they do?”

Me: “They keep track of all our bears. I just want to make sure none of the regulars who frequent this particular area are around. We had to remove guests from the hotel in the past, you see, and well…”

(The guest clearly understands what I’m getting at, goes white as a sheet, and turns to security.)

Guest: “I’d like to go back to my room, please. I won’t make any more noise.”

Security: “All right, but if we get one more noise complaint, you’ll have to trust your luck with the bears.”

(The guest nodded and followed security back up. I’m still waiting on the day that my luck will run out and a guest will actually remember our interaction, or, if they do, complain about it.)

(I am the only employee cashiering in my section.)

Me: “Are you a member of our rewards program?”

Customer #1: “NO! And I don’t want to be! Your rewards are s***!”

Me: “Okay, then.”

(I continue ringing her up. As I hit “total,” the register tells me that one of her items is on member special. I am required to tell her this.)

Me: “Ma’am, just so you know, if you sign up for our free rewards program, you can save [percentage] on this item.”

Customer #1: “I told you I didn’t want it!” *under her breath* “Stupid b****.”

Me: “Okay, your total is [amount]. Have a good day.”

(The next customer hands me her rewards card. The previous customer is apparently waiting for someone and is still in the shop.)

Me: *to [Customer #2]* “And because you’re a rewards member, you did get the member special, and you’ll get a coupon for gas savings. Your total is [amount].”

Customer #2: “Oh, go ahead and use my points.”

Me: “Sure.”

(The customer has over a hundred dollars in points, so this takes care of her whole purchase.)

Me: “And that paid for your purchase! Have a good one!”

Customer #1: “HEY! How come hers is free?! That’s discrimination! I want mine free! Get me your manager, you b****!”

Customer #2: “If you hadn’t been screaming at her and being rude, you would have heard her say that signing up for the membership would save you money! And they always tell you that the points are money! Why don’t you get the f*** out and leave that poor girl alone? She works hard enough without some moron like you ruining her day!”

(The first customer mumbled something under her breath and left. The second customer just smiled as she left. Wherever you are, ma’am, thank you!)

(I’ve stopped by the store two blocks from work to pick up some groceries. On my way out, I notice the twenty-something door greeter has his arm in a sling. No stranger to incapacitated arms myself, after surgery a few years ago, I ask what happened.)

Greeter: “I got in a car accident.”

Me: “Oh, no!”

Cashier: *closest to us* “YOU TOLD ME YOU GOT HURT IN VIETNAM!”

Greeter: *nods solemnly*

Me: *bursts out laughing and plays along* “Oh, gosh! That’s terrible! What happened?”

Greeter: “Well, me and Forrest Gump, we got trapped in the bunker when they started bombing us…”

Cashier: *laughing* “YOU TOLD ME YOU WERE A FIGHTER PILOT!”

Greeter: “That, too!”

(I laughed so hard I almost dropped my groceries. They made my day! Best of luck for the greeter’s recovery after such noble service!)