I work at a restaurant during winter and summer breaks between semesters. A [Delivery App] driver comes in.

Me: “It’s going to be about ten more minutes before your order is ready.”

Driver: “That’s fine.”

He sits down at the bar on his phone for a few minutes.

At this point, we’re pretty swamped, and I’m the only server for tables, phones, to-go orders, etc. This means every mistake that isn’t from the kitchen is mine.

In my hectic state, I make a mistake and give [Driver]’s order to another driver who has been waiting. I realize about a minute after she walks out the door with it, and of course, I have to do the walk of shame to the bar to talk to this guy.

Me: “I’m so sorry, but I messed up and gave your order to another [Delivery App] driver. You’ll have to wait another fifteen minutes or so. We’re going to bump your order to the top of the queue.”

This guy wastes NO time in standing up and pointing his finger right at me.

Driver: “I’ve been waiting for ten whole minutes! You should’ve told me!”

Me: “Sir, I told you as soon as I realized the mistake.”

I don’t know what else he expected me to do.

He starts to raise his voice. Other customers are looking over, and I’m sure I look pretty stressed because I’m sweaty from running around the restaurant and I get anxious when people are mad at me.

Due to the small size of the restaurant, my manager, who has worked with the owner of this restaurant for years, comes out of the kitchen with a no-bulls*** look on her face. Let me just say that I both fear and admire this woman for her tenacity.

Manager: “What’s the problem here, sir?”

She looks like she already knows some bulls*** is about to come out of his mouth.

The man angrily gestures with his hands while telling her that “this girl” (me) messed up his order and he’s been waiting forever, blah, blah, blah, and then he swears at her.

Big mistake. This 5’1” woman is probably tougher than anyone he’s ever met. She swears right back at him.

Manager: “She already f****** apologized to you! What more do you want?”

He tries talking over her and raises his voice again, at which point she motions to the door.

Manager: “All right sir, have a good day.”

This pisses him off, but she just keeps repeating it as he yells at her.

Manager: “You can leave now, sir. We don’t want you in here. Just leave, have a good day.”

She kept telling him to have a good day, and he finally stormed out. I never saw him again, but it felt so good to have the manager stand up for me like that. Perks of working at a local business: no one can report you to corporate, so the manager and owner can tell anyone to f*** off if they’re an a**hole.

I work in tech support. A ticket comes in.

Ticket: “I spilled coffee on my laptop.”

I told the client to bring it in and I’d look at it. She brought it to me, and she kept saying:

Client: “I’m sorry. I’m so embarrassed!”

And I had to keep telling her:

Me: “No, this is great! You told us up front what was wrong, and we can deal with it. You didn’t say, ‘I don’t know what happened,’ and then have us troubleshoot different things before finally opening up the computer, and then mention that you spilled something in there and say, ‘I don’t remember anything like that happening.’”

It was so nice. It took five minutes. I swapped her hard drive into one of the hot spares and away she went.

I wish all users could be so up-front.

I am in line waiting to pay at a store. In front of me is a man with two young girls in tow. One of the girls pulls a ball out of the shopping cart, clearly intending to play with it, but the moment she gets it out, the other girl wants it, and the two girls start the classic sibling pastime of squabbling over their toys.

The man takes the ball from both girls and holds it up out of their reach when they can’t come to an agreement.

Man: “Kids, you don’t snatch.”

Girl #2: “I had it first!”

Girl #1: “Nuh-uh!”

Man: “If you girls can’t find a way to share it, I’ll put it back and no one will get it.”

Girl #1: “Can we play the phone game?”

Man: “That’s a great idea, [Girl #1].”

I’m now perversely curious about the non-sequitur about playing games on the phone and how this seems to satisfy the father who looked ready to scold both kids. So, I can’t help but peek over the man’s shoulder as he pulls out his phone and puts it down where the girls can reach it.

Both girls place their fingers on the phone, resulting in color circles showing up under each girl’s finger. Then, after a second, the circle under [Girl #1]’s finger disappears while [Girl #2]’s circle stays. The man hands the ball to [Girl #2].

Girl #1: “Aww…”

Man: “Sorry, [Girl #2] won this time. She can keep the ball until we get to the car, and then [Girl #1] can carry it into the house. No one gets it while I’m driving because I don’t want you causing an accident.”

Just like that, what I thought was about to be a major fight with the kids was resolved. I’ve already decided I’ve got to find a similar “phone game” as soon as my youngest child is old enough to start fighting with her brother.

When I was in college, I took a class called Conceptions of Human Existence. I was so, so lost. I like classes with facts, and if it had not been a required class, I would never have gone near this subject.

On the first test, I got a C- and I learned that nobody got a lower grade. This was an ominous sign that I was in trouble. I just could not absorb the vague, nebulous concepts being discussed.

It was like getting a test question, “Does our worldview affect the world or is it the opposite?” and being told my answer was wrong. How the heck should I know? It was complete and total frustration.

Around the halfway point of the semester, our professor was about ten minutes late to class. He came in just at the point when we were all getting up to leave.

Professor: “Please sit. This will be short. I’ve just left a meeting with the department chairperson, and I was denied tenure.”

We could tell he was angry about it. Then, the class was dismissed.

For the rest of the term, our classes just involved chatting about topics in the news and no actual assignments to do. I was left wondering what I could do to pull up my grade. With a week to go before the final exams, [Professor] let us know that we had to do a final exam. Great, should I have been taking notes during our class-wide chats? What the heck were we going to be tested on?

Professor: “Since I didn’t get tenure, I’m leaving the university after this semester. Your final exam will be a take-home essay, and you can choose one of three topics. The first is your feelings about the war on terrorism. The second is your feelings on the American healthcare system. And third, if you don’t like either of those topics, you can make up your own question and answer it. If you turn in anything that shows effort, you will be given an A. I do have to be able to defend my grades, so don’t just turn in a two-sentence piece of crap and think that’s worth an A. Put in some effort and get a guaranteed A. I am doing this for all the classes I teach this semester.”

That was his malicious compliance for being turned down for tenure. We did, in fact, all get an A.

I heard later from a student aide who worked in the office that the department head was mad about it but couldn’t do anything about it.

I am sixteen, and it is my first day working at a tiny rural convenience store. My coworker is showing me the ropes.

Coworker: “Oh, since you’re here until the afternoon, you’ll get to meet Giles.”

Me: “Who is Giles?”

Coworker: “He’s the best customer ever! Can’t wait for you to meet him.”

Me: “Cool.”

My coworker is on lunch break, and I am manning the checkout. The manager of the store swings by; he’s not always there.

Manager: “Has Giles come by yet?”

Me: “I’m not actually sure.”

Manager: “Oh, you’d know if he did. He’s our favorite customer!”

Me: “So I’ve been told, but I don’t know what he looks like.”

Manager: “Trust me, you’d know. Well, I am glad I haven’t missed him. I’ll be in the office. Let me know when he comes by.”

I nod, but honestly, short of asking every customer if they happen to be Giles, I have no idea how to fulfill that request. Luckily, my coworker comes back from lunch and I get to go on mine. I come back and work until around mid-afternoon.

Suddenly, there’s a single bark from the front of the store. I see my coworker giddily rush around the checkout, rapping on the office door as he does so. Both my coworker and my manager head outside and are excitedly met by the happiest golden retriever I’ve ever seen. They give the little guy hugs and some small treats that seem to magically appear from their pockets.

My coworker then unzips a fanny pack wrapped around the dog and takes out some cash and a piece of paper. He then runs around the store, collects three or four small items, and places them into the fanny pack, zipping it back up.

After one more round of hugs and treats, the golden retriever knows it’s time to leave and happily trots off down the street.

Me: “Giles?”

Coworker & Manager: *Both beaming huge smiles* “Giles.”

It turned out that Giles’s owner was disabled and lived literally thirty seconds away, but even this was a challenge for her at times. She would send her support dog on small grocery runs on weekday afternoons while her carer made a daily visit, and then she’d come in for the bigger grocery run on the weekends.

Giles was quickly my favorite customer, too!

This story is part of our end-of-year Feel Good roundup for 2022!

Read the next Feel Good 2022 story!

Read the Feel Good 2022 roundup!