This story takes place shortly after I am hired for my first job as a police officer. The city that hired me has a mandatory leash law for dogs. Sadly, some of my fellow officers have recently ended up shooting a few nuisance dogs, which has been spun in an effort to show that our department hates dogs.

One day, while I’m walking around my patrol area — in full uniform and with a running body camera — a large puppy turns the corner ahead of me, sees me, and sprints over in a rush of puppy excitement. The pup seems friendly and well-trained — at least for a puppy — and it’s wearing a collar, so after getting it to sit, I give it a scratch and kneel down to read the tag on the collar.

Suddenly, a woman turns the same corner the pup came from and starts sprinting over, screaming.

Woman: “Get away from my dog! Don’t you dare hurt him!”

Me: “Ma’am, it’s okay. He’s a friendly guy. I’m just taking a look at his tag.”

Woman: “Just let him go! He hasn’t done anything!”

Me: “The only thing I’m seeing wrong is that he doesn’t have a leash.”

Woman: “I have it right here.”

She pulls a leash out of her sweatshirt pocket and clips it to the pup’s collar.

Me: “Did he escape from your yard or something?”

Woman: “No, we were taking a walk. He likes to move faster than I do, so I let him off his leash so he can wander more. He doesn’t usually go this far away from me.”

Me: “Well, ma’am… based on that, I’m going to have to give you a citation for not having a leash on him.”

Woman: “You can’t do that! I didn’t know about the leash law, and I had a leash right here! I didn’t do anything wrong!”

Me: *While writing out the citation* “Unfortunately, you just admitted that you intentionally let your dog walk without a leash. That’s illegal in [City], so I have to write a citation.”

Woman: *With a smug look now* “Well, he has a leash now, so you can’t prove anything!”

Me: “Ma’am, all [City] police officers wear body cameras. You and your dog have been on camera this entire time. I need your information for the citation.”

She glared at me and refused to give me her information, so I knelt down and started reading her name, address, and telephone number off the pup’s tag, making sure to hold the tag in a position where my body camera would get a good recording of it. When the woman realized what I was doing, she scoffed, dragged the pup away from me, and refused to take the completed citation when I tried to hand it to her.

She tried to fight the citation in court, but my body camera footage of the entire incident was more than enough for the judge to rule that the citation was legitimate.

On a happy note: a few months after her court appearance, the woman was arrested for some unrelated crimes and sentenced to a prison term. Because she lived alone and had nobody to take care of her now-adult dog, he was taken to a local animal shelter. Shortly after, he was adopted by another local family who have taken excellent care of him and his leash. I still see the dog most days when I’m on patrol, and I have started carrying a few dog treats in my pockets for him and the other friendly dogs in the neighborhood.

This story is part of our Best Of January 2021 roundup!

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I work at a food joint in a theme park. I’m pouring drinks for several of the cashiers when I notice that one soda flavor has run out of syrup. I don’t notice exactly when the syrup runs out, but I don’t want to waste a drink that could still be good. I hand the cup to the guest.

Me: “Sir, the syrup ran out at the end of this drink. Would you try it? If it’s not good, I’ll remake it for you.”

Guest: *Looking at the cup* “Can I get a straw?”

Coworker: “We don’t have any back here; they’re outside on the condiment station.”

Guest: “How am I supposed to try it without a straw?”

All three of us stare at each other for about ten or fifteen seconds.

Me: “Pick it up and take a sip?”

The guest looked confused and rolled his eyes.

I manage a financial department, and I recently promised my team that if they exceeded their collections goal, the company would treat them to a very upscale Italian restaurant that we all love. They exceed the goal by a lot — good for them! — so I make a reservation for the sixteen of us.

The day of our outing, we are seated right away and the server takes our drink order.

Server: “I’m so sorry, but the person who was supposed to be helping me didn’t show up, so I’ll have to handle your party, plus my regular station, on my own. Will you be paying together or on separate checks?”

She looks visibly relieved when I tell her that I will be paying for everything on one check.

Our ordering is a little chaotic. People will give their orders and then hear someone else order something that sounds better, so they’ll ask to change their orders. There is also a lot of, “I’ll split mine with you if you’ll split yours with me,” going on.

We are busy having fun and conversation, so none of us mind that the drink refills, appetizers, entrees, and desserts are a little slow. The food is delicious and we enjoy it very much. It comes time for the bill and, as was explained to me when I made the reservation, the restaurant has added an 18% gratuity to the bill. The bill comes to about $650 before the 18% tip and I give her my credit card.

She returns with my receipt and thanks us and apologizes that our service was a little slow. We tell her everything was perfect and thank her for working so hard. She has been so nice to us and so accommodating and so patient that I leave an additional $150 cash tip in the receipt folder and we head out to the parking lot.

All of a sudden, the waitress comes running out of the restaurant and grabs my arm. I’m thinking I forgot to sign the receipt or something when I notice she has tears in her eyes. She thanks me profusely for the tip and says she really didn’t expect it; she’s had a tough time lately and the tip will really help her out. This was a nice pat on the back for me and a real heartwarmer for all of us.

This story is part of our Feel Good roundup for January 2021!

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I am waiting in line at the local post office. The customer ahead of me is with his teen daughter. He has a handful of small metal parts and he’s talking to the clerk.

Customer: “Do you have any boxes or envelopes for sale so I can package these parts for shipping?”

Clerk: “There are padded envelopes on the bottom shelf.”

He indicates the display just behind us, with a four-foot-wide desktop for taping and writing, and two shelves beneath, stocked with flat boxes and a variety of envelopes.

The customer steps over to the display and looks at the desk where the pens are, and then at the top shelf, and then back at the clerk, confused.

Clerk: “Padded envelopes are on the bottom shelf, on the left.”

The man AGAIN looks at the top shelf, starting on the right, flipping through all of the boxes and envelopes until his teen daughter speaks up.

Customer’s Daughter: “DAD! On the BOTTOM LEFT! Jeeeeeeeeeez!”

He finally listened and saw the envelopes he needed.

I am a female cashier. I’m the only one working in the front, while my coworker is in the back stocking. I am supposed to have help, but my help went home sick early, so I have a good six hours working alone in the front.

At 7:00 pm, I close the bathroom for the night and put up the, “SORRY, I AM BEING CLEANED; PLEASE BE PATIENT!” sign. We don’t have an “OUT OF ORDER” sign or a “CLOSED, SORRY” sign.

Somewhere around 8:00 or 9:00 pm, a customer and his girlfriend walk in to use the bathroom.

Customer: “Is the bathroom being cleaned?”

Me: “It is out of order.”

Customer: “Then put up an ‘Out of Order’ sign so people know.”

Me: “We only have one sign, sir, but it’s out of order.”

Customer: “We have been waiting for this bathroom for ten minutes and it says being cleaned. You need to put an ‘Out of Order’ sign up if they are out of order.”

Me: “This is the only sign we have. I don’t have an ‘Out of Order’ sign.”

Customer: “So write a new sign. Let me take it down.”

Me: “We have a policy against handwritten signs.”

Customer: “That seems unlikely. Never? No handwritten signs? Ever? This is the second time I have had an attitude from you. You don’t remember me? I had an issue with you before.”

Me: “I don’t remember you.”

Customer: “I’m [Customer]. I come in here all the time. You don’t remember me? Really? Wow.”

Me: “I don’t remember you.”

Customer: “You wouldn’t sell me beer even though I am twenty-seven years old. I sent my girlfriend in and you wouldn’t sell it to her. I shouldn’t need ID; I am an adult.”

Me: “It’s the store policy. I am not selling to anyone without ID.”

Customer: “Well, you will. You will remember me this time. I want your name and corporate’s number. I am going to call about you. I didn’t say anything then, but I am now. I am going to call. My name is [Customer]; remember that. Do you remember her, [Girlfriend], my girlfriend? Do you? Because you will. You had an attitude last time.”

He starts talking to her in Spanish, which I can understand a little bit of. I am just standing there hiccupping, tears running down my face, probably looking like a giant f****** toddler. I just can’t stop crying, and when he talks to me, it gets worse. I feel like I am three steps away from a panic attack.

My coworker comes out from the back.

Coworker: “You need to leave.”

My coworker picks up the phone and goes into the back. The customer calls after him.

Customer: “Oh, your coworker needs you, coward.”

Me: “I was trying to be nice. Please go.”

Customer: “You can change this meeting. You can change it. You had the bad attitude and now you want to change it? That is on you.”

At this point, his girlfriend finally says something.

Customer’s Girlfriend: “Let’s go.”

The customer flips his switch like he has three personalities.

Customer: “Hey, hey, I am not going to call. What do you want? What would make this better?”

I am sobbing now and telling him to, please, just leave.

Customer: “Hey, I won’t call. I am not going to call. See, I am not going to. Here, you have a boyfriend? Girlfriend?”

More incoherent sobbing on my part.

Customer: “Here, go on a date tomorrow and calm down. Take them out somewhere nice.”

He suddenly offers me money!

Me: “I don’t want it.”

Customer: “No, here, take the money. You look like you need a break. It will help you be—”

Customer’s Girlfriend: “Let’s go.”

He put $40 on the counter and left.

They stood outside the door talking for a few minutes. I hope she was yelling at him. Then, the police showed up because my coworker had called them.

I hate work sometimes.