Our venue is rented each year by the local Kidney Association to put on a show by a very talented local Elvis impersonator. It is always a hit, and you would be amazed at how excited some of the grandmas — and even great-grandmas — get at the thought of it. You would think the King himself was going to be on our stage.

I was working in the box office the afternoon before last year’s show when an elderly woman and her daughter came in to purchase tickets to both the show and the meet-and-greet beforehand. After they received their tickets and turned away from my window, the mother somehow got tripped up by her cane and took a tumble into one of the retractable stanchions by the door.

I looked out to see my manager at their side with the first aid kit. I called for an ambulance while she kept the mother calm and applied a bandage to a small wound on her temple (caused by the edge of her glasses). While I spoke to emergency services, my boss tried to make her comfortable on the floor of our lobby.

While all of this was happening front-of-house, the band had been on stage setting up for that night’s performance. It turned out that someone must have run down and let “Elvis” know that he had a fan down in the lobby; the next thing we knew, the man himself had left the stage and was sitting on the lobby floor. He sat by the mom’s side, holding her hand in his, and making jokes about her going to such lengths to meet him one-on-one. Soon, she was smiling and laughing, their undignified position on the floor completely forgotten.

When the EMTs arrived, I went out to meet them, but I had to warn them:

Me: “I’m not sure how much help you’ll be now. I think Elvis has already saved the day as far as the patient is concerned.”

They checked her over, and other than a couple of bruises and the cut from her glasses, the mom was fine. She absolutely refused to be taken anywhere for further treatment, declaring that having met “that nice young man”, she certainly wasn’t going to miss the meet-and-greet or the show. She had a fabulous time, and she got special attention from “Elvis” during both, which made her glow.

The Kidney Association continues to do its annual fundraiser with us, and our impersonator friend even flew in for the show this year, taking a couple of days off from a months-long booking in Hawaii to keep his yearly date with our local grandmas. That is one artist who is not willing to let his fans down.

I used to live in a fairly poor neighborhood when I was still studying (poor student!). There was one dude who posed as Santa (or rather our version of it, Nikolaus) and sat there on a makeshift throne on the big plaza outside the apartment I lived in. Kids could come up to him, he’d listen to their wishes for Christmas, and he’d hand them some plush toy. For the longest time, I thought that’s some sort of thing our city does because, well, welcome to socialist Vienna.

I really thought it was some kind of city deal.

Fast forward twenty-ish years. I’m now living somewhere else, with a neat income, no longer in the neighborhood there. I happened to shop there at some point, and I saw some guy hauling out a HUGE bag with plush toys. And looking at him, it dawned on me; it was the guy from back then! He was older now, of course, but that was St. Nick from the plaza.

Me: “It’s you!”

St. Nick: “I guess so. What do you mean?”

Me: “You’re St. Nick from [Square].”

St. Nick: *Laughing* “Yeah, you one of my kids?”

Me: “Thanks, man, but I’m probably too old to be. Nah, I just saw you every year, back when I lived here. So, you still have that gig?”

St. Nick: “Gig?”

Me: “Well, the whole St. Nick gig with the town?”

St. Nick: *Laughing* “No gig, man!”

No, there was no gig. He bought the toys himself, got a license from the town to put up his throne, and handed out his own toys to the kids around the area whose parents very likely didn’t have the money to buy them any plush toys to begin with.

Now, we have a better deal: more toys, paid for by me, with the store as a supporter, giving us the toys they couldn’t sell at cost. It’s not like I have any other use for my Christmas bonus anyway; I have no family. And “St. Nick” never had to turn a kid away again because he was out of plush toys, so I’d consider that a win-win.

Phone etiquette and cultural varieties aren’t easy. If you are an immigrant child and mostly only hear your parents on the phone with friends and family, it can be quite difficult to grasp proper phone etiquette for the country you’re living in now.

At my work, we had a phone the students could use in the kitchenette next to the teachers’ lounge, but you needed to enter a code to call outside of the school network. Thus, a teacher always had to enter a code before the student could use the phone.

Next to the phone was the only computer available to us teachers, and it could be annoying to be interrupted by someone having to call if you were in a time crunch to finish printing the exam that would start in thirty minutes and you had to rush downstairs to the copy machine in between.

I was writing some minor weekly test when [Student] asked to use the phone. I knew that he was late finishing a term-long assignment, and one of the things he had left to do was to visit a local company and describe it. He was far from the only one, and the teacher responsible was getting antsy.

[Student] called the company he had selected after I entered the code and told me I could continue to work; he didn’t mind if I heard the conversation. He was very blunt and rushed on the phone, almost incomprehensible, and the receptionist refused to have him visit.

I saved and closed my document and sat down with [Student] at the kitchen table as we talked about his phone call. He knew it hadn’t been good, but he had no idea how it could improve.

Me: “Let’s try roleplaying. I worked a summer as a phone operator, so I can play the receptionist. You can explain to me what you want.”

He improved with each attempt, but after ten minutes, we both had to leave for class.

As soon as recess hit, [Student] was back for a new round of roleplaying.

The next day, he returned to try his luck again on the phone.

Me: “Should I leave you alone?”

He gave this little cry as he grabbed my hand and plonked me down on the chair closest to the phone. During the call, he wouldn’t let go of my hand.

And this time went much better. He presented himself and his project quickly and succinctly and got an appointment.

The following day, [Student]’s best friend asked me if we could roleplay his phone call. One of the main reasons that both had waited so long to make those calls was that they knew they’d flub it. Apparently, neither of them had thought to ask for help.

We practised for a few recesses, and then I listened in on [Best Friend]’s call per his request. He did great. (That was unsurprising; he runs a major corporation these days. He’s a quick learner with a great drive.)

The others who had procrastinated all came one by one and asked to roleplay and then have me listen in on their conversations. They were all immigrants, and I don’t think it was a coincidence or that immigrants were procrastinating in general. They knew that their phone etiquette wasn’t up to Swedish corporate standards and were scared.

And sure, it wasn’t part of my job to teach them phone etiquette. I wasn’t actually the teacher of any of them. But it took maybe an hour and a half in total to assist them all and help them finish their projects — and gain new phone skills!

My boyfriend organized a surprise birthday party for me. He’s been planning this for MONTHS and I’ve been 110% clueless.

He made me believe that he had to work today all day — 3:00 pm to 11:00 pm. My parents, who were also in on it, told me they were busy, so I had to spend my birthday by myself. I was actually pretty sad when I got a message from my dad around 6:00 pm, asking me if I wanted to have pizza with him and Mom tonight at their place.

When I arrived, my dad took me to the dining area, and they had prepared this really cute party, Stitch-themed (I love Stitch), complete with a bunch of food and drinks.

There were only a total of fifteen people, including my family, as well as my close friends. To my left there was my family and to my right were my friends, some of them who I hadn’t had the chance to hang out or even chat with for months. I said hi to everyone and hugged them all, and my mom told me to come check an audio file [Boyfriend] had sent me through her phone, so she could play it when the time was right.

As soon as she said that and I turned around, [Boyfriend] showed up all of a sudden, out of nowhere. I’d had hopes that I could spend some time with him today, but I knew he had to work (or so I believed), so I didn’t put much thought into it. When he suddenly showed up, I hugged him tight and actually burst into tears (which were probably exacerbated by the fact that I’m extra emotional due to a very inconveniently timed PMS).

Then, I noticed his gift. He had gotten in contact with an artist friend of mine (who was also at the party) and commissioned an illustration of me with all of my late and current pets. He’d had it framed and placed it where it could be seen easily, and I noticed it right away and nearly cried again.

I was basically wearing my pajamas, so I told [Boyfriend] quietly that I wanted to change clothes real quick (even though I was coincidentally wearing a Stitch shirt, which was awesome). and I went upstairs to change. This man had even thought of this sort of detail and had laid out a change of clothes for me on the bed.

We all talked and ate and drank and had fun for hours. We got into the pool, swam a bit, and laughed some more.

[Boyfriend] had found out about my favourite flavors of cake and got me not one, but two of them, plus snacks and other food and drinks, including stuff for those who don’t drink soda.

He even took into consideration my severe ADHD and how long it would take for me to get exhausted from socializing. By midnight, everyone was gone and everything was decently cleaned.

We then went upstairs, had a bath together, and played Hyrule Warriors until both of us were too tired to continue.

[Boyfriend] doesn’t earn much, and he’s super hardworking, yet he managed to find the time to organize such a sweet thing just to see me happy. He also doesn’t care about his birthdays because every single time, something bad has happened on his birthday before we met a year and a half ago, but he told me that he wanted to show me that he cares about my birthday and wanted me to see how much he cares about me.

He spent good money on the commission and even wondered if the price was fair because he felt it was too cheap for the quality and trouble. As an artist who has had to deal with customers who were the exact opposite, this hit me really hard and I was so, so proud of him.

I can see the amount of effort he put into this.

I’m currently typing this while he sleeps next to me. He’s snoring, loudly grinding his teeth, and basically practicing kickboxing on me in his sleep, but right now, I don’t even care. I had to tell someone about this because my love for this guy is overflowing, and I can’t imagine my life without him anymore. I’m so, so happy. I’m never letting go of this man.

I am interviewing for a job at a large furniture store for a customer service job.

Customer Service Manager: “So, do you have any questions for me?”

Me: “Well, since this is a customer service position, what are your customers like?”

Customer Service Manager: *Smiles* “You have time for a story?”

Me: “Absolutely!”

Customer Service Manager: “We had a customer who returned everything he bought. He was always dissatisfied with the product and the service. Delivery was bad, the product wasn’t good, the sales staff was rude, the checkout was too long, and on and on.”

Me: “And was it?”

Customer Service Manager: “You’ve seen our place. This is not a poorly run or shabby organization. It is hundreds of thousands of feet of showroom and runs very professionally. We’re sat in the middle of a cornfield in Kansas. People travel from states around to shop here.”

Me: “Fair point!”

Customer Service Manager: “So, anyhoo, I fired that customer mid-rant on his last visit. I thanked him for his input. I gave him his money back and I told him he was fired.”

Me: “You can fire a customer?!”

Customer Service Manager: “You betcha! I believe the exact words I used were: ‘It’s obvious that our company and our products are not up to your standards. We appreciate the opportunity you gave us, but we obviously can’t meet your needs. Please leave and do not ever come back.'”

That story almost convinced me to take the job. I went to work on the customer pick-up dock instead. When asked why, I explained to them:

Me: “I would rather be on the dock helping happy people load their new toys in their trucks than in customer service trying to satisfy unhappy people returning stuff.”