I work as a night supervisor at a grocery store. It’s early afternoon when I oversee one of our newer cashiers having issues with a customer.

The man is maybe in his forties and almost definitely not sober. He is buying a single can of beer, which runs just over two dollars. The cashier gives him his total, and he hands her two dollar bills.

Cashier: “Do you have any change? I need a little more.”

The man digs around in his pocket for a moment and pulls out a handful of rocks, putting them down on the counter. The cashier is startled, but the man just makes a noise and digs around in his pocket some more, pulling out… more rocks, and like four coins mixed in. He sets this down on the counter, too. The cashier hesitantly digs through the rocks for a quarter and hands the man his change and his beer. He swipes at the rocks, getting most of them, shoves them back in his pocket, and leaves, leaving a small pile of rocks behind.

A few hours later, a customer comes in and asks for a supervisor. The other supervisor on shift comes over, as I am about to cover the cashier’s break, although I can still hear the conversation.

Customer: “Yeah, there’s a man in your parking lot yelling some really obscene things. I wanted you to be aware. It’s your call whether you do something about it, though.”

My coworker goes outside to check and then comes in and reports a man standing on the sidewalk — public property. He is yelling mostly nonsense, maybe some rude things mixed in. My coworker phones the non-emergency police line and gives a basic description of the issue.

Eventually, they send someone down to shoo the man away, or he leaves on his own.

Later, around 7:30, a man comes in and asks to use the phone. It takes me a few minutes to recognize him as the man with the rocks from earlier. He is still definitely not sober, and it’s a bit difficult to understand him. He is also, inexplicably, carrying a stack of signs from a drugstore across the street — the long, thin, almost laminate things that get attached to the shelves.

I eventually get that he wants to call a detox/rehab service for some reason, but he doesn’t know their number or their name, just vaguely where they are. I pull out my phone to look it up as he keeps rambling.

Me: “Is it [Detox Company]? Does that sound familiar?”

Rock Man: “I don’t know. I guess.”

Me: “Okay, here’s the number. You can use the phone right here.”

I point to the customer service desk.

Rock Man: “Well, it won’t do any good to call them; I still got my cigarettes. They won’t let me in with my cigarettes. Can I call my mom, instead?”

Me: “Er, sure. You can use the phone and call whoever you need.”

I leave him to his calls and come back a few minutes later to check on him.

Rock Man: “My mom didn’t answer… Wait, what day is it?”

Me: “It’s Sunday, sir.”

Rock Man: “D***, she’s probably at church.”

It is almost 8:00 pm at this point.

Rock Man: “What time do you guys close?”

Me: “Not until 10:00.”

The man dithers around a bit more, mumbling.

Me: “Let me know if you need anything else, okay? Feel free to use the phone again.”

I leave and find my other supervisor.

Supervisor: “You know, that’s the guy who I had to call the police on earlier. He seemed much nicer inside.”

Me: “I didn’t know that, actually. I did, however, know that that’s the dude who paid us with rocks earlier, so that’s cool.”

The man left a few minutes later without further incident. Hopefully, he got where he needed to be.

I did find the stack of signs for the drugstore left outside on a patio table when I did my check at closing.

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!

CONTENT WARNING: Suicide Ideation

I was in my first week on the phones after training. As it was April of 2020, I was not in the office but being looked after in my work-from-home setup.

It was my last call of the day. The customer had physically damaged their device, so a repair was the next step. I was explaining the limited options due to lockdowns starting in their area and that they weren’t able to go to their preferred store due to this. The call had been relatively normal up to this point, though with a few minor phrasings and comments that made me think the caller might not be all there.

Me: “All right. Since you don’t want to do any of the repair options, we’re going to have to wait until things open up more.”

The caller spoke in the same tone that someone would use to comment on the weather in a boring conversation.

Caller: “Okay, I guess I’ll just kill myself, then.”

Panic mode instantly shut down almost everything, and I jump instantly to the “if a customer threatens harm” area of my training:

Me: “Please don’t hurt yourself; we don’t want you to hurt yourself. If you feel that way, you should talk to a doctor or someone—”

Caller: “No, I think I’ll just kill myself.” *Click*

I called back immediately, very panicked but keeping my tone as calm as I could.

Me: “I’m sorry, we seemed to get cut off there. I just wanted to make sure you were all right and heard what I was saying — that we don’t want you to hurt yourself.”

Caller: *Slightly confused tone* “But I can’t go to [Repair Shop] and my [Device] is broken?”

Me: “No, you can’t right now, I’m sorry. The only other way to get it fixed right now is [slightly roundabout method].”

Customer: “Yeah, I’ll just do something, maybe kill myself. Bye.”

I freaked out more than a little, calling up the supervisor level, asking if it counted as a customer being in “immediate physical danger” because, again, that tone was so casual. My brain was just looping on the “threat”.

The supervisor managed to calm me down and gently explained that I had done my best, but if the customer wasn’t accepting my comments, it wasn’t like we could force them into medical help, and since we didn’t really know where they were, then it wasn’t like we could get an ambulance out there.

I ended up at my end-of-day briefing sobbing over it and had no less than three of our trainers jumping up on the conference program to call me directly and make sure I was okay.

I STILL don’t know what was going on in that person’s head, or if they really meant anything by it, but I lost someone important to such thoughts, so there was no way I wouldn’t try to stop it if I could.

The weirdest praise I got for it, though, came from the trainer who I’d chosen for the comfort, who reinforced that they were impressed at how well I’d reacted to it in terms of giving the customer the correct information — that we didn’t want them hurt and that they should see a doctor for those feelings — and attempting to get help. Apparently, she didn’t think even a fully-trained supervisor would have responded with those sentiments so immediately. So… good for me for having a traumatic childhood?

I’m in the dairy aisle of a grocery store (wearing a mask) when I see a woman around thirty-five with her kid. The kid is in the cart watching something on a phone. Neither of them is wearing a mask.

I mind my own business, grab a milk jug, and head toward the self-checkout. Then, I see the woman take the phone out of the kid’s hands and hold it up like she’s recording me.

I quickly try to get away from her, but she keeps following me around the store. At one point, I hear her speak to her kid.

Woman: “Look at that sheep, bowing to the communist democrats, wearing his dumb mask!”

I finally turn around.

Me: “Why are you following me?”

She didn’t respond, so I told her to f*** off, checked out, and left.

It’s 1980, and my parents are in the middle of a divorce. Mom finds a place where you can meet with an attorney for free legal advice on a one-time basis. They are very strict about that.

Mom gathers up all the documents she thinks might be relevant and heads off to her appointment.

Mom: “I’m [Mom]. I have an appointment with [Attorney].”

Receptionist: “You’re [Mom’s Full Name]? You can’t see [Attorney].”

Mom: “Why? Is he out sick?”

Receptionist: “No, because you’ve been here before.”

Mom: “No, I haven’t.”

Receptionist: “Yes, you have.”

The receptionist opens a file folder and starts reading.

Receptionist: “You are [Mom’s Full Name]?”

Mom: “Yes.

Receptionist: “Your husband is [Dad’s Full Name]?”

Mom is getting a little creeped out at this point because she doesn’t remember telling them Dad’s name.

Mom: “Well, yes, but…”

Receptionist: “You live in [Wrong Town].”

Mom: “No. I’ve never lived in [Wrong Town]. I live in [Correct Town].”

Receptionist: “You have three sons.”

Mom: “No. I have two daughters.”

Receptionist: “But you have been here before.”

Mom: “No, I haven’t.”

Receptionist: “Yes, you have.”

Mom starts pulling out all of her documents. 

Mom: “Look, here is my driver’s license. It has my full name, birthdate, and address — in [Correct Town]. This is my marriage license. It has both of our full names, my maiden name, and our birthdates. Here are the birth certificates for my two daughters. This is the most recent mortgage statement. It has the address in [Correct Town] and how long we’ve lived there. I brought some other bills, too: gas bill, electric bill, water bill, and phone bill. They all show our address in [Correct Town].”

The receptionist brings out a phone book that covers the whole county. 

Receptionist: “Look, here you are in [Wrong Town].”

Mom takes the phone book and turns the pages. 

Mom: “And here we are in [Correct Town]. This is obviously another couple who just happen to have the same first and last names as my husband and me. As a matter of fact…”

She flips back to the other listing.

Mom: “…they have different middle names than us. See, they included their middle initials.”

The receptionist flips back and forth between the two entries for a few moments.

Receptionist: “Ohhhhh… So, when did you move out of [Wrong Town]?”

She eventually let Mom see the attorney. She didn’t look convinced, though.