I work in a grocery store. While in the self-checkout, a bottle of white wine slips out of a customer’s hand and shatters on the floor.

One person grabs the broom and dustpan to sweep up the glass, another directs traffic, and I run to a back room to grab a mop and bucket. Since I’m in a hurry and rarely have to clean up anything like this, I forget to grab a wet floor sign.

There’s another employee at the next register over, but he’s off-duty and just trying to buy some cat treats, so no one expects him to jump in. He notices the missing wet floor sign and offers to grab one. I tell him he can if he’s comfortable, and off he goes.

When he comes back, he brings a wet floor sign AND a roll of paper towels, so he can better dry the floor once I’ve mopped all I can.

Me: “Thanks again for helping clean up.”

Coworker: “No problem! That’s what being a team player is all about, right?”

I wasn’t sure whether to give him a high-five for being so helpful or lecture him for working off the clock.

I have a learning disability called dyscalculia; it’s like dyslexia for math. My mother, for reasons I will never know, decided I didn’t have it when I was a kid, so I never got support or intervention, but now that I have my own free time, I’m trying to relearn math.

This has led to some interesting moments of me saying, “I’m very sorry, I don’t understand. Can you explain again?” to various bank tellers, cashiers, and other people, who are usually perfectly nice about it.

However, today, I got to do something new.

I went out to try an old favorite hole-in-the-wall sushi place. Apparently, someone had come in and decided that instead of serving flavorful sushi, “Wrap half a pound of fish in rice and seaweed and dribble soy sauce on it” was a substitute. (Or possibly “put an entire jalapeño in the sauce,” judging by one appetizer.) I couldn’t really stomach eating half a raw salmon at a time, so I politely asked for the bill to get the h*** out of there.

Out of habit, since I’m relearning math, I estimated the rough total of the bill.

It matched what was on the paper.

I’m disappointed to lose a good sushi joint, but I can now say that I actually can estimate a calculation and be in the general ballpark, instead of missing ten dollars here or there. It’s a victory I’m proud of.

I caught a late flight one night and wound up at the rental car area. I had about a two-hour drive to my destination and work to do the next day. I was also dressed for business, which I find helps enormously in these situations.

The guy in front of me and his wife apparently had the biggest crisis of their lives in that line. I wasn’t really clear about what was happening, but it seemed like their reservation was lost, or they were dissatisfied, or something. It took a good fifteen or twenty minutes before they stomped off in a huff and I made it to the desk.

The lady at the counter and I shared a look of mutual exhaustion before I promptly gave her my name, license, and credit card. After she processed the rental, she gave me the keys and said, “Drive safely!” with a clear undertone of “Don’t get caught!”

I figured out what she meant when I got to the stall and found the brand-new Mustang she had spontaneously upgraded me to.

Little did she know, I drive like an old lady, but it’s little gestures like that that give me some hope for the world.

I’m working at a bank branch that’s not in the greatest neighborhood, but I still enjoy working there because the customers are so nice. I’m a female in my twenties, but due to my baby face, I look much younger. A kid who doesn’t look any older than eighteen swaggers up to the line.

Me: “Hi there. How can I help you?”

The customer flings his card on the counter.

Customer: “Get me my cash now! I got places to be.”

Me: “Sure thing. How much do you need today?”

Customer: “All of it!”

Me: “Now, just so you know, if you take everything out, the account will close—”

Customer: “Did I ask what you think? Gimme my money! Now!”

The customer behind him, a petite woman in her sixties, reaches up and SMACKS the back of his head.

Customer: “OW! What the h***?!” *Turns around* “Nana?!”

Nana: “Just what do you think you’re doin’, child?”

Customer: “Just… gettin’ some money.”

Nana: “Not like that! Your momma and I did not raise you to be rude, especially in my bank! These girls are always nice to me, and you need to respect them!”

Customer: “But, Nana—”

Nana: “No! You will apologize to this young lady!”

Customer: *To me* “I’m sorry, ma’am. It’s been a bad day.”

Nana: “It’s about to get worse for you, [Customer]! Sit your behind down while I get my money.”

Customer: “But, Nana—”

Nana: “No! You will come back another day when you can be polite. Sit!”

He meekly sits in the waiting area.

Nana: “Now, honey, can you please withdraw $100 from my account? Here’s my ID.”

I count back her cash while fighting the urge to laugh.

Me: “You have a nice day, ma’am!”

Nana: “Oh, you, too, sugar. I’m sorry for my grandson; he was raised better than that.”

Me: *Still fighting the urge to laugh* “Don’t worry about it!”

Nana: “Aren’t you sweet?!” *To her grandson* “You, sir, will march to my car. Just wait until I tell your momma!”

Customer: “No! Please don’t tell her!”

Nana: “MARCH!”

She pushed him out the door, continuing to rain threats on him. He came in a few days later for his cash, as meek and polite as could be!

I own a bed-and-breakfast. Last week, we had a guest — let’s call her Katherine — who turned out to be one of those people we’re not likely to forget any time soon. Katherine is in her sixties and upper-middle-class judging by her clothes, sports car, and extensive plastic surgery, which tends to give her unlined face a look of perpetual slight surprise. She had booked a studio with a kitchenette and breakfast because she wanted to experience the snow, and our mountains are the best bet in a five-hour driving radius. I have no idea what brought her to our humble B&B rather than to one of the four- and five-star resorts in the area, but she turned out to be genuinely loveable.

But let’s start from the beginning: her arrival. Unfortunately, these last few winters have been serving a lot more rainy days, storms, and grey skies than the snow-covered, blue-skied winter wonderlands she was probably hoping for. Katherine arrived on a singularly rainy day and came in rather drenched after the thirty-second walk from her expensive sports car. On first glance, I couldn’t suppress a bit of a smile; her business shoes, skirt, blouse, and fur-trimmed overcoat were pretty far removed from the oftentimes mud-drenched hikers, dog owners, and young families from the cities we usually get here. Misjudging her arched eyebrows, I took her to be surprised (perhaps negatively) and half-prepared myself for a walkout.

Whoops. I was quite wrong there. It turned out that this was her happy look. She complimented our common area, which doubles as the breakfast room and has a self-serve bar, our reception, and our fireplace. Granted, the latter is intentionally extra cozy on dreary days. Having been shown her room, she was quite content. Now, normally, we don’t offer daily housekeeping, but I decided to ask her if she’d prefer that.

Katherine: “No, no, I’m fine. I actually prefer it if I can just leave my own mess lying around for a few days.”

She told us she’d just let us know if she needed anything — a woman after my own heart.

For the next few days, Katherine was decidedly different from our usual guests — at times a bit eccentric, but always polite and genuinely fun to be around. She forgot her toothbrush and paid us well to get her a new Sonic one on our shopping run.

Katherine: “Do you own a Sonic toothbrush? I just need that feeling of clean teeth, you know!”

Katherine’s breakfast consisted of two eggs, fruit, mozzarella, and cheese, but no bread, and a flat white with oat milk. Oh, and a cigarette on the patio after. In the evenings, after having had dinner somewhere, she’d often buy a bottle of wine from our bar, never without offering us a glass, too.

When she expressed her disappointment with the weather — it remained stormy and rainy throughout her stay — we quickly came up with alternative activities: the National Park and the Natural History Museum, a tour through a historic mine, and a spa day. We even booked her a driver from the village so she could sample the local Liqueurs and Spirits.

Katherine being Katherine, she befriended a young hiker couple — let’s call them Len and Tina — from another room one evening over a bottle of wine or two. The next day, they all went shopping for outdoor clothing in Tina’s beat-up little car, since Katherine’s two-seater couldn’t fit them all. Katherine left in white trainers and her fur-trimmed coat, only to return with new top-of-the-line hiking boots, trousers, and an insulated winter and raincoat that cost decidedly more than a week’s stay with us. She even bought Len and Tina a pair of gloves each — the smallest item they could come up with when she offered to buy them something, as they later told me.

To Katherine’s credit, the very next day, she put those hiking boots to good use and joined Len and Tina for a hike that would take five hours on a good day. They came back after seven hours, wet, muddy, and happy — especially after we brought out the hot chocolate. Later, Katherine discreetly asked me for band-aids and disinfectant; apparently, she hadn’t been aware that hiking boots should ideally be broken in with a series of shorter hikes. Her blisters had gotten so bad that they burst. The next day, feeling sorry for her, I bought her my favourite blister pads. That afternoon, she actually bought me a bottle of Riesling (she knew it was my favourite by then) to say thanks.

Katherine checked out this morning after having kissed my partner and me on both cheeks three times, thanking us profusely for “the great hidden gem that you have created here”, leaving a very generous tip, and promising to come back. I’m not going to lie, I was genuinely touched, but I didn’t think anything would come from it.

What can I say? She wasn’t lying. Just now, I received a phone call from Katherine’s personal assistant. They have booked the entire B&B for twenty-four people — including some bunk beds; I triple-checked and was assured that’s fine — for a family get-together. They’ll stay a full week in October, and they have asked me to work out a bespoke itinerary that’s quite eclectic, including an informal, vegetarian pizza night in our garden, as well as a high-end Michelin Star restaurant visit in the next town over. (I already called them, and they’re happy to open specifically for Katherine’s group on a specific date.) Additionally, the assistant asked me for Len and Tina’s contact details, since Katherine wants to hire them as dedicated hiking guides and photographers for a day or two; they have a semi-successful hiking-themed Instagram. I called Len; he had a good laugh and will talk to Tina since he’d absolutely love to make it work. Shorter hikes this time, he promised.

Guys… All the feels. With the risk of being cheesy, it’s days like this that I genuinely love my job. It’ll never make me rich (unless Katherine would like to buy the property? Just kidding!), but the services we offer make people from all walks of life genuinely happy — and to me, that’s even better.

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