Several years ago, I was shopping quite late one Sunday evening, around 8:00 or so. The grocery store was quite deserted, but in the vegetable aisle, two children were running around with no adult whatsoever in sight. Both almost head-planted into my cart several times.

It was a girl who looked to be about six and a boy who was about four. The girl had Down Syndrome, and the boy kept shouting the most offensive slurs at her. He was so tiny yet using such offensive language. Most likely he was just repeating what he had heard the adults in his life say about the girl, but then again, who would use that language about an innocent little child? (Don’t get me wrong — you don’t use it about adults, either, but especially not preschoolers.)

But what do you do? As a random adult, you cannot stop the running children and begin scolding the slur-spewing kiddo, nor can you grab him and drag him to the information desk to get a hold of the parents and chew them out for his offensive language. It is a very bad look to drag strange children halfway around the store; most likely I’d be accused of kidnapping.

I walked away.

Right out of college, I worked at a portrait studio at the mall. I only worked there from September to January, and for basically all of that time, we were absolutely slammed with families doing their Christmas photos. We were understaffed and overworked, and it was a complete chaotic mess. I had stress dreams about working there for about a year and a half after I quit, but one family, unfortunately, is burned into my memory. 

It was the day before Thanksgiving, and my last appointment for the night was a photoshoot with seven children between the ages of about six months and six years old. They were brought in by three moms who were sisters, I think, so basically, three related families. They wanted group shots of all the cousins together.

The kids were wild. I did the absolute best I could to wrangle all of these children into the same pictures, but they would not stay still. The moms tried to help, but honestly, the more adults in the room giving directions and picking up runaway children, the more confusing it became. I lost complete control of the shoot, but honestly, I don’t think I had much of a chance. 

The moms were a constant chorus of thank-yous and “I’m sorry about our kids”, and I did the best I could given the circumstances. I miraculously managed to get a few good photos of individual children, some sibling shots, and I think maybe one decent group photo, but everyone was completely frazzled.

It came time to show them the best photos and place their order. They were actually really happy with the photos, reprised the thank-yous, and started thinking through which prints to get. One mom only had one kid and decided she only wanted to order one photo of that kid. She pulled out the dreaded $7.99 coupon. 

This coupon was the bane of our existence. Normally, there was a studio fee, and prints were anywhere from $10 to $20, or you could order packages that allowed you to pick a variety of prints for a special deal

Oh, but the $7.99 coupon…

It waived the studio fee, and then for $7.99, you could choose one — and only one — photo and get it in a variety of sizes. No exceptions. One photo. Honestly, I don’t think our prices were very fair, but the coupon basically made us do a ton of work for nothing, and it was incredibly limiting for the customer. 

So, this mom took out her $7.99 coupon and chose one photo she liked. I was crestfallen. I looked at all three moms.

Me: “If she uses this coupon, this is all you can get.”

They said they understood, and I was very surprised. We’d done all that work and they only wanted one photo of one kid? I asked again, and they insisted that, yes, they wanted to use the coupon.

I sighed internally. I was burned out. This company recorded sales numbers, and there were penalties for not making good numbers. I was exhausted. I wanted to go home. 

I placed her order and rang her up for eight dollars and change with the tax. My manager gave me the okay to go home for the night, and I started to put on my coat. 

The moms were livid.

Moms: “Why are you leaving?! We haven’t placed our orders yet!”

They did not understand what I had tried to tell them about the coupon. I didn’t understand that they wanted to pay separately, and they did not understand that the coupon specifically prevented any more than one photo from being sold from a session.

Again, everyone’s brains were completely fried, so I’m sure the communication breakdown was on all of us, but alas! To them, it was completely my fault that they couldn’t get photos of their kids. 

The thank-you chorus turned to outrage and, “You’ve ruined our Thanksgiving!”

Well, ladies, you ruined mine, too.

There was nothing to be done. The sales system would not let me change their order, which was genuinely ridiculous, and honestly, I think the one mom kinda still wanted to use the coupon. Everyone left upset.

At that company, Christmas bonuses were contingent on making a certain target in sales for the quarter, and my branch missed it by one dollar. 

I quit and never looked back. I was delighted when I read that they went out of business a few years later.

When I was a child in the 1980s, I walked approximately two miles to school every day. (Yes, that was considered “safe” back then, believe it or not!) Along the way, I had to pass by a motel. There were two building strips with a small courtyard in the middle, and I would cut through the courtyard every day. No one seemed to mind.

When I would pass through, I would see an elderly woman busily working away — sweeping, carrying bags of laundry, and whatnot. When I would return home, she would still be working. I would yell:

Me: “Wow, you’re still here?”

She would chuckle and say something witty in return. Some days when I wasn’t on my way to school but passing through, she’d see me and say:

Woman: “Yup! I’m still here!”

This went on for years and became our little inside joke. One day as a teen, I asked her:

Me: “Seriously, how long have you been here?”

Woman: “Last June marked forty-four years. This motel is my baby. The day it closes will be the day of my burial!”

Fast forward to my sophomore year in college, I dropped by my hometown over the holidays. Of course, I just had to go see if she meant what she said about her never giving up the motel. And wouldn’t you believe…

Me: “YOU’RE KIDDING ME!”

Woman: “Yup! I’m still here.” *Laughing hysterically* “Why don’t you stay a night? I’ll comp you!”

I stayed a night there for the heck of it even though I was staying with my dad.

Fast forward eight years. By then, I had acquired a wife and a daughter in Germany. We flew into the US on a vacation and dropped into my hometown. I couldn’t wait to show this lady my own little crew and introduce my family to this gracious lady whom I had pestered for years as a kid.

Sadly, as we approached the motel, I immediately saw that it had been emptied out… and the marquee letter sign next to the motel said:

Marquee: “Sorry, [My Name], you JUST missed her! [Owner], 1906-2008.”

And by all accounts, they were right about “just missed”. According to the obituary I pulled up, she had passed only a month and a half earlier. I still kick myself for not having visited sooner. 

But I always remember with a smile the kind old lady at the motel who was always “still there”!

I work in a video game store that does trades. A young boy, maybe around twelve or so, comes in with a stack of old games.

Boy: “How much can I get for these? I’m trying to get the new Mario game.”

Me: “Well, the Pokémon game here might get you something, but all these others I can only give a few cents for. If you had the boxes, I might be able to offer more.”

Boy: “Oh… I see. Thank you for your time.”

The boy politely stacks up his games and is about to leave when an older gentleman, maybe late sixties at a guess, comes rushing over.

Old Man: *Excitedly* “Is that Pokémon HeartGold?

Boy: “Uh… yeah.”

Old Man: “Excellent! I have SoulSilver! I needed that to pair with it!”

Boy: “Is it for your grandson?”

Old Man: *Mock-offended* “No, my young friend! It’s for me!“

Boy: “You play Pokémon?!”

Old Man: “Since 1996!”

Boy: “Whoooooa! But… you didn’t stop when you got… old?”

Old Man: “Let me give you some advice that has served me well. You don’t stop playing because you get old; you get old because you stop playing.”

Boy: “Whoooooa!”

Old Man: “Play forever, young man!” *To me* “How much is the Mario game he wants?”

Me: “It’s $59.99.”

Old Man: *To the boy* “I’ll give you sixty for the game.”

The old man handed over the cash (after I had tested that the game worked), and the boy excitedly got his new game. I will never forget that man’s amazing advice, from one generation of gamer to another.

My aunt has worked as a cashier in a supermarket for thirty years, and one of her stories particularly stuck with me.

One day, as she was scanning products for a woman at her register, the alarm that reacts to security tags going through went off. The customer seemed surprised, as she was still discharging her cart on the conveyor belt, but she stepped away from the alarm, raising her hands to show she had no items.

My aunt was very confused, and looking at the alarm devices, nothing seemed to be going through, but the alarm was still going off. As she got up to check more closely, she finally solved the mystery: a toddler was pushing a pressure cooker on the floor, through the alarm system, encouraged discreetly by her mom.

The unashamed woman ended up paying for the pressure cooker to avoid the cops being called, and she was never seen in the store again.