This story takes place a few months after the Nintendo Switch was released. A lady came in with a Switch which was, frankly, melted. It turns out that her son had apparently decided that trying to microwave his brand-new Switch was a brilliant idea.

It was not.

Customer: “I deserve a free replacement! Something should have been done to prevent Switches from being microwaved. Since nothing prevented my son from microwaving the device, it is your fault that this happened!”

Naturally, she could not clarify what precisely should have happened to stop her son from wrecking the device, just that “something” should have stopped him.

I am incredibly thankful that I have a manager who actually has a spine, so when he got called over to deal with her ever-increasing volume as she shouted about how “something” should have been done, he sent her away empty-handed.

It’s the dead of winter, it’s almost 8:00 pm, I’ve just finished work five hours late, and I’m exhausted and hungry. The day has been a nightmare from the start and I’m at the end of my rope for dealing with nonsense. I’m not angry, just worn out. I stop off at a sandwich shop on my way home.

I get in line behind a gaggle of fourteen- and fifteen-year-olds. No biggie, I haven’t eaten since lunch, so what’re a few more minutes?

From the start, the teenagers are snotty and entitled, almost deliberately trying to fluster the cashier. I think about saying something, but with the mood I am in, it wouldn’t go well. Instead, I just walk out and go to another location of the same chain not too far away.

I walk in, and thankfully, this one is quiet. I must look about as good as I am feeling because the man behind the counter strikes up a conversation. I don’t go into detail or mention anything about the other shop, but it is nice to have someone listen for a minute.

We chat a bit more as he cashes me out, and by the end, I have a smile on my face — or as much of one as I can manage. I thank him for the food and for listening, and I finish my drive home.

When I open the bag up, I find that the employee slipped in a handful of extra cookies. He went out of his way to make my awful day better.

It’s been a few years since this happened and I still haven’t forgotten it. Whoever you are, thank you. I hope the world has returned your kindness.

Related:
And That’s How The CEO Cookie Crumbles
And That’s How The Stolen Cookie Crumbles
And That’s How The Ninth Cookie Crumbles
And That’s How The Cookie Infuriatingly Crumbles
And That’s How The Cookie Mathematically Crumbles

There is a very famous retail chain in Canada that is known for giving away small denominations of store credit with most purchases. They are printed on paper and are designed to simulate banknotes. They’re even printed by the same company that makes actual Canadian dollars. The denominations are really small, however. They start at $0.05 and can go all the way up to $2.00, but anything higher than $0.25 is rather uncommon. If you live in Canada, you know exactly what I’m talking about.

If you have enough of these notes, you can use them towards your next purchase at their issuing retailer, just like you would use cash. Once again, the denominations are usually so small that they aren’t very practical. I have never seen anyone try to use them seriously.

Then, there’s my dad. He has been shopping at this chain for at least two decades. He actually saved up all these micro-credits over the years and decided to use them once and for all, so we got in the car and drove to the nearest store.

He only got one item. It was a $17 drain pan for changing your car’s oil. Like a wise guy, my dad pulled out his wad of fantasy money and started laying them on the counter. Imagine trying to pay for your shopping with mostly nickels and dimes; that’s basically what he was doing. The cashier had this crestfallen look on his face, while the customers behind us in line noticed what was going on and walked away to other cash registers.

It was such a cumbersome ordeal that my dad actually lost count a few times. That wasn’t even a cruel joke that some customers like to play; he actually lost count. Counting these bills took so long that the cashier begged my dad to stop. He even offered to just give us the item and deal with the consequences later. My dad was never the type to cut corners, so he declined the cashier’s offer and continued trying to pay him properly.

Once all was said and done, my dad got his pan along with a receipt for his purchase. He even had a lot of his original credit left over. He decided to deposit his remaining credits into a nearby donation bin; there is a charity organization that accepts these notes. As far as I can tell, this is what most customers actually do with these notes.

My dad lives in Canada. I live and work in the USA. 

My dad has been suffering from liver problems lately. He’s been in and out of the hospital a few times. I’m working when I get a call from him. According to the doctors, he has about a 20% chance to live to the end of the week.

I immediately go to my super and ask for the day off. This is granted, and I drive pell-mell to the Canadian/American border. Border security has been tighter lately, and my nerves and twitching attracted some unwanted attention from the border agents. They insist on doing a full search of my vehicle.

Of course, they find nothing.

Halfway through the search, I get another call from my dad. It turns out there was a mixup at the hospital. His test results were mixed up with someone else’s. He now has about a 40% chance of living to the end of the year. Which is better.

I meet with him with a lot of relief, we chat about it, and then I get ready to go back to work. I let my super know what happened.

And he’s pissed. He accuses me of faking the whole thing to get an extra day off, as if I would want to spend half a day getting my car stripped to the g**d*** nuts in customs. He insists that no reasonable doctor and no reasonable hospital would make a mistake like that.

Accidents happen! Especially in stressful environments like that!

After that, I feel like my super is watching me closely and trying to track my paid time off. Finally, I leave for another similar job. The pay’s not better, but at least they don’t treat me like a criminal, you know?

Dad got a new liver before the end of the year, so he’s probably got at least ten more years in him.

I recently quit my job due to the fact that it’s become increasingly embarrassing to be associated with my boss, also the owner of the company. On my last day, I cleaned out my truck, returned a special key to the company we subcontracted from, and left anything my boss had given me in the truck

About a week into my new job, my now former boss sends me a text message. The following conversation takes place over text.

Boss: “I need you to return [list of tools] and [key].”

Me: “You took [tool #1] back from me six months ago, [tools #2 and #3] are in my old truck, you never gave me [tool #4] at all, I paid for [remaining tools] out of my own pocket, and I gave the key back to [Company] as per their policy.”

Boss: “I know you bought them, but I paid you back for them. You need to give them back. I need the others, too, and the key.”

Me: “Like I said, I don’t have them. I’m keeping the ones I paid for because they belong to me, you took one of them back from me months ago, you didn’t even give me the other one at all, one is in the bottom drawer on the passenger side of my old truck, and the last one should be in the top drawer on the passenger side. The key is with [Person] from [Company] as it is their policy that it gets returned to them.”

Boss: “I don’t have time for this. Just answer the email I sent you.”

And I’M supposed to have time for this?!

I see the email and it’s the exact same thing as the text. I answer the email with my exact same responses, as well.

Just to be safe, I go back through all of my tools, and I do in fact find one of the items he was looking for. It wasn’t intentional on my part. It was in a small pouch nearly identical to another tool that is mine, so I thought that’s what it was. I immediately inform my boss and apologize for missing it. I arrange to meet him and drop it off.

We meet and he instantly accuses me of trying to steal it, along with the rest of the list. Again, he demands the key, and I explain to him again that I talked to [Company] and followed THEIR procedure.

Boss: “Then you need to get it back and give it to me because it was under my name.”

I know this is false as I returned the key AND the paperwork I was given with it, and it was most definitely MY name on there. Still, he demands I call [Company] and get it back.

At this point, he also accuses me of intentionally damaging my work truck and says he’ll sue me for repairs. This is the same man who refused to fix a different truck with three cylinders misfiring and no functional climate control that shook at highway speed, my truck with at least two faulty sensors, a third truck that the back end was about to drop out of, and yet a fourth truck that overheated every fifty km because they weren’t “safety issues”.

I’ve heard through the grapevine that, due to his behaviour with the public (several incidents worthy of their own submissions) coming to light, the status of his contract with [Company] is on thin ice.

He’s gotten me pretty steamed with all of this. I’ve maintained my cool until now but the continued baseless accusations have broken me. I call the supervisor in charge of his project on the spot in front of him. This supervisor and I have a great rapport.

Me: “Hey, [Supervisor]. I heard that [Boss] is on some sort of remand because of the way he behaves with the public. Since I’m now a member of the public, I’d like to report that he is harassing me for tools he never gave me and threatening to sue me for damages to my old truck.”

Supervisor: “Thanks for letting me know. Just get out of there for now and I’ll deal with it.”

Boss: “Why are you involving him? This doesn’t concern him!”

Me: “It absolutely does. I put up with a lot working for you, but now that I’m just a member of the public, which you’ve repeatedly shown you don’t know how to respect, I’ve reported your actions to the appropriate people. This is what happens when you treat people like s***.”

He left, cursing and swearing at me. I talked to [Supervisor] again a bit later in the day and talked about how best to handle everything. I sent an email to my old boss with [Supervisor] CC’ed, listing out once again everything about the tools.

As for that key, I talked to the person at [Company] in charge of them and I did another email with him CC’ed, saying I followed [Company] policy to the letter and if [Boss] wanted another one, he would have to reapply for it.

About a month later, he did indeed lose his contract after yet another road rage incident that caused damage to a car.

It’s been eight months since I quit. I still have my tools and still haven’t been sued. Last I heard, [Boss] was working as a grunt for another company in the same industry.