We called her “The Governess.”

It was the 1990s, and I worked in a restaurant. The Governess was a woman, perhaps in her sixties, with short hair set in curls that were close to her head. She dressed and spoke with a stiff sort of formality. She was strict, bordering on mean.

We didn’t hate her. I don’t think she ever got the cold shoulder. We were all extremely nice to her in hopes that she wouldn’t be too demanding with us. She tipped adequately. But she was draining to serve.

After a solid year or so, she came in, and I thought, “No… I just can’t deal with her.” I was waiting tables, pregnant, and exhausted. But this was my job, so I forced a smile onto my face and greeted her.

To my surprise, she smiled back. Throughout her whole meal, she was pleasant and warm. It was like a switch had been flipped, and she had become a completely different person. Another server whispered to me that she had been in a few days before and was just as cheerful then.

She became one of our most beloved customers. When one of our servers found out she was a dean for a small private school, he let it slip that we had nicknamed her “The Governess”. She loved it!

She came into the restaurant one day stating that she wanted to book a large party for an early dinner: her retirement party. One of our line cooks suggested that we get a custom sign made that said, “Governess Parking Only”. Several of us chipped in to have it made.

When the party came, her husband laughed hysterically at the parking sign and asked if he could take it with them. Every employee of the restaurant was there to wish her well. A few of our former servers even stopped in to give her a hug.

Shortly after that, she was gone from our lives… relocating to a warmer state. I never knew what caused her shift in personality, but I’m so glad we could get to know her as well as we did.

CONTENT WARNING: Pet Death (By old age)

My sister has severe asthma and allergies. When she was in eighth grade, she was sick a lot throughout the year and, as a result, was at the doctor’s office a lot. Another patient at the doctor’s office noticed how often she was there and got our phone number. She was a dog breeder and wanted to give my sister a chihuahua puppy because she swore they were good pets for people with asthma/allergies because “they can predict your symptoms and attacks!”

My sister and mom were skeptical, but we all loved dogs, so we weren’t going to say no to a “free” dog. (There was a stipulation that we could give him back if we couldn’t care for him.)

Several months later, the breeder’s dog gave birth, and a few months after that, the pups were old enough to go to their new homes, so the breeder called my mom to come pick him up. He was a cute little black and tan that my sister named Max.

On the day Max was brought home:

Dad: “He’s not allowed on the furniture. He needs to mostly be outside because I don’t want the house to smell like dog.”

Mom: “He can’t be left outside! He might wander into the woods and get lost.”

Sister: “Yeah! Or the hawks could eat him!”

Dad: “Okay, then we can build a fence, and he can be left outside at night.”

Me: “But then an owl might eat him.”

Dad: *Sighs* “FINE! He can stay inside, but y’all had better not let him on the furniture or let him do his business in the house.”

A few weeks later, we had Max mostly potty trained, and our dad had Max sitting on the couch with him, snuggled next to him.

Dad: “What? He likes sitting next to me to watch TV.” *Rubs Max’s ears* “He’s a good little dog, so he can be on the couch.”

A few months later, Max was sleeping on the pillow next to our dad’s head when our mom went to wake him up for breakfast one morning.

Dad: “He was obviously cold. It’s fine because he’s a good dog and deserves to be warm.”

Throughout the years, my dad doted on that dog like he was a child and always had a treat and a snuggle for that sweet little dog.

It got to the point that when my son was born and Max was jealous, he reassured Max that everyone still loved him, too. He held my son so that Max could sniff him.

Dad: “See? He’s just a baby. He’s a new person for us to love, but he won’t replace you.”

For eighteen years, that dog was my dad’s shadow. For eighteen years, he was my dad’s little buddy.

In early 2024, my sister had to have him put down and was heartbroken. Our dad was heartbroken, too, and buried Max himself. He was talking to my mom after having just buried Max on a cold day in January.

Dad: “It’s so cold out. Max hated the cold so much. I hate that he has to be out there in it.”

I had already cried for Max, but hearing my mom tell me how heartbroken my dad was over a dog that he hadn’t wanted in the first place, but had come to love so much, made me break down crying again.

Please, love your pets and give them a snuggle for me and my dad.

It’s the beginning of the academic year, and the university campus is crammed with new and returning students and their families. The staff is desperately multi-tasking to keep up with enquiries, complaints, and ongoing tasks. It’s chaos, but we love it; it’s always good to see the students back.

This year, among the new students is an autistic student who had their favourite soft toy with them. Unfortunately, they lost it in the madhouse of Freshers’ Fayre and were brought into the library to decompress in a calm space. This didn’t work; they were increasingly distressed by the loss and in full meltdown. Various library staff were dispatched to look for the toy with no result.

Then, University Security arrived on the scene. Security are big chaps with full gear (body cams and all), highly professional, and very experienced in keeping the peace.

[Security Guard #1] marches up to the distressed student.

Security Guard #1: “Now then, young man. I hear you’ve had a bit of a do.”

The student goes very quiet and their eyes go wide. They obviously think they’re in big trouble.

Security Guard #1: “We hear you’ve lost your friend. Well, maybe we can find a new friend for you”

[Security Guard #2] produced from behind his back a teddy bear, complete with a gown and a mortar board. The student looked bewildered, and the staff present all burst into tears. The student wasn’t sure what to make of this, but it did calm them for a bit, long enough for a very flustered member of library staff to dash in with the original lost toy, having found it on the way to their car. (They then had to dash back off again because they needed to pick up their child from school.)

We haven’t seen the student since, but we hope they think of the library as a safe space where they’re welcome and have learned how awesome our security staff are!

I recently left a jack-of-all-trades type of position, where one of my jobs was to roll out new hardware on a five-year refresh plan.

I’ve been at the company for four and a half years, dealing with 250-plus colleagues’ IT issues all by myself, so you generally get to know most people in the company pretty well, even if only on a superficial basis.

Thirty new laptops arrive to replace those due, and two names appear that I’ve never heard of before. I have a search for them in my helpdesk system, and they’re not in there; they’ve never logged a ticket. I ask Human Resources, who says these two people definitely exist and still work for us.

Okay, then. I reach out to let them know. They’re both home-based salespeople from around 300 miles away. One of them is due at the head office in the next month or so, so he will pick up both laptops then.

So, the laptops are built and left on a shelf. Six weeks later, a random person knocks on the IT office door and introduces himself as one of the unseen colleagues. It turns out he’s a huge PC gamer, so he knows most stuff — so much so that my predecessor who’d built his last laptop just made him a local admin. He also sorts most issues for his other colleagues in the area, so he’s a local admin of that.

Me: “It’s good to finally meet you!”

Employee: *Jokingly* “I hope we don’t have to meet again!”

Me: “We probably won’t; I’m off to a new job in a couple of weeks.”

On my second to last day, a package arrived. It was a card, signed by [Employee] and his colleague, with a set of three whisky miniatures from their local distillery. It was literally the only acknowledgment that I got for four and a half years of service.

As part of my wrapping-up, I went through to check that there were no old accounts I’d missed closing or anything, and I found another — sales again, this time 200 miles away in a different direction. Again, he’d never logged a ticket and never emailed me. Somehow, he made it four and a half years at the company without asking for a single thing from IT. I was tempted to reach out and send him something, as well.

When my dad was younger, he worked as a beer tapper in a bar in Germany that made their own beer.

Customer: *Jokingly* “I want a beer with the foam head at the bottom!”

My father took a glass, filled it up to the top with a nice head, put a beer mat on top of it, quickly flipped the glass 180°, and pushed it toward the customer.

The customer tipped him twenty and went back to his buddies with the flipped beer!