When I was probably six years old, I was playing “kick the crackerbox” in the kitchen with my older sister. I had my socks on, and I slipped and fell chin-first into a stool. I was taken to the emergency room and had seven stitches put in.

As this was the late 1980s, there were still cigarette vending machines in the hospitals. A guy had bought himself a pack of smokes, and with his change, he had gotten a pack of Reese’s Pieces. He gave them to me and told me he hoped I would feel better soon. Thirty-five years later, I still remember that moment.

I also remember my grandmother pouring the candy into a bowl for me the next day and how painful it was to eat them with my wound — but they were all the more pleasant because of it.

I seriously doubt that man remembers that day, but I will never forget that random act of kindness that a stranger gave to a little kid in a lot of pain.

My family is on a long car ride when my husband’s phone rings and he answers it. After a few minutes of conversation, he tells the man to hold on, places the phone face down on his seat, and returns to his earlier conversation from before the call. Everyone in the family knows by now that this means he believes the person on the phone is a scammer, and he plans to intentionally waste their time, so we don’t think anything about it.

A little while later…

Husband: “Wait, do you hear that?”

Me: “It’s the person on the phone.”

Husband: “He hasn’t hung up yet?! Man, if I wasn’t driving, I’d start messing with anyone that persistent.”

Me: “Allow me.”

He hands me the phone. I listen in for a while until the man sounds like he is about ready to hang up before I speak up.

Me: “Hello! Anyone there?”

Scammer: “Umm, yes, hello. Is this [Husband]?”

Me: “That’s my husband.”

Scammer: “Oh, well, I was calling from the IRS about some back taxes he owes. He was going to go get his Social Security number for me. I don’t suppose you know it?”

Me: “Oh, did my husband leave you waiting all this time?”

Scammer: “Yes, it was a bit of a wait. We’re very busy this time of the year, so I’d like to verify that information so I can help sort this out quickly before it’s too late.”

Me: “I’m sorry about my husband. You see, English isn’t his first language, and he sometimes has trouble understanding people on the phone.”

Scammer: “Oh, that’s fine. I understand. I just needed to get—”

Me: “Yeah, honestly, my husband, he… Well, he’s not that bright. He always tends to forget what he is doing and zone out, staring at nothing. He’s a bit special, really. Not sure why I married the oaf.”

My husband has ADD, so he actually does have a slight tendency to forget what he is doing and stare off in the distance when hyperfocused. It’s not a big problem, but the family isn’t above some good-natured jokes at his expense for this. My kids are snickering at the description of their father, and my husband is just grinning.

Scammer: “Oh, I’m sorry to hear that. But I was trying to get his Social Security number so I could help sort out these back taxes. Would you happen to know it?”

Me: “Oh, you want his number?”

Scammer: “Yes please.”

Me: “It’s [phone number he just called].”

Scammer: “That sounds like a phone number. I was actually looking for his Social Security number. It’s a nine-digit number, maybe broken up into three smaller numbers split by dashes.”

Me: “Oh, I’m so sorry. I’m not good with numbers. Give me a second here.”

I take a second to think up a proper bogus number — and just to stall the guy a bit more. I make sure to sound very confused but sincere when I go back to the phone.

Me: “Umm, I don’t know, but is it 666-42-1337?

I figure he will pick up on at least one of those numbers being clearly bogus, but the man seems to be satisfied with it at first. I assume he runs it through something that spits back that it is invalid because, eventually, he comes back.

Scammer: “I don’t think that is right, ma’am. Could you double-check that number, please?”

Me: “Oh, these numbers are too confusing. Let me get someone who can help me.”

I mute him.

Me: “How often do you think we could pass him back and forth between the two of us before he realizes he’s not making any progress?

Son: “Oh, no, wait! I want to try! Can I talk to him next?”

Me: “Sure, why not? But I’d make him wait a bit longer before picking up. The more of his time we waste, the less time he can dedicate to scamming decent folks.”

I pass the phone back to my son, who unmutes it after waiting a minute or two. There is some dead time after he says each line where the scammer is presumably responding.

I should mention that my son is in middle school and has had two years of Spanish class, which is a far cry from being an expert in Spanish.

Son: “Hola. Mi nombre es Pedro. ¿Cómo estás? ¿hHablas español?” (Hello. My name is Pedro. How are you? Do you speak Spanish?)

Son: “¿Mi madre dice tu necesito un número?” (My mom says you need a number.)

Son: “No sé.” (I don’t know.)

Son: “Me duele mi cabeza. ¿Dónde está el baño? Tengo un gato en mi sombrero.” (My head hurts. Where is the bathroom? I have a cat in my hat.)

Apparently, my son is at the limit of his ability to say things that sound vaguely Spanish.

Son: “Si. Un momento.”

He mutes the phone.

Son: “Yeah, that’s all the Spanish I know. Mom, do you want him back?”

I take the phone back.

Me: “Great! Did you get everything you needed, then?”

Scammer: “I’m sorry, but whoever I was speaking to only knew Spanish.”

Me: “Oh, you can’t speak Spanish? You should have told me.”

Scammer: “Look, ma’am, all I need is your husband’s Social Security number, or yours if you don’t know his.”

Me: “Oh, no, I don’t have a Social.”

Scammer: “Every US citizen should have one.”

Me: “Well, yes, but you see, about that… It’s just that, umm… Wait. You don’t work for the FBI, do you?”

Scammer: “Ma’am, if you are not taking this seriously, I’ll hang up and let you deal with thousands of dollars in back taxes you owe on your own. Now, for the last time, all I need is a Social Security number for one of the residents in your household.”

Me: “Oh, no, no! Please don’t do that! I’m sorry. Look, I’ll go get it right now. Just one second, please!”

I mute him again.

Me: “I think he is finally on to us. Don’t think he’s going to last much longer.”

Daughter: “No, wait! I haven’t gotten my turn with him yet! Here, let me have some fun before he goes!”

I hand the phone back to my daughter. She has always been told she sounds young for her age. She plays this aspect up to the point that she sounds like a little kid.

Daughter: “Hello, how are you?”

Daughter: “I found the phone. Want to talk about My Little Pony?!”

Daughter: “Oh, no, my father’s not here. He got put in jail for bad driving and punching the police. Mama says it’s because he’s always thirsty, but I don’t know why that would make him want to punch someone.” 

Daughter: “No, they took me away from my mama because she kept bringing men that paid to be her boyfriends back to our house and making so much noise with them that I couldn’t sleep. Now I have to stay with some people until my mama learns to love me right.”

Daughter: “Oh, sure, I can get him!”

My daughter now holds the phone up to my nephew, who we are currently babysitting. He is a year old.

Daughter: “Say hi, [Nephew]!”

Nephew: “Hi! Hi! [Excited babbling]!”

At some point, the scammer gave up on us before we got the phone back from my nephew.

Honestly, I’m surprised he lasted that long. It’s so nice to bond with your family over small things, like trolling scammers.

My restaurant is mostly known as a breakfast and lunch spot and has been a local staple since the sixties. Day shifts can be brutal here because we get slammed more often than not. 

By the time 1:00 pm rolls around, I’m starting to be over it, having been there since 8:00 am and going nonstop. That’s when I have a party of three seated in my section: a mom and two girls, probably about eight years old.

Mom: “[Girl #1], tell the server your order.”

She does so.

Mom: “Okay, [Girl #2], it’s your turn to order.”

It turns out that the little girl and I have the same name. I always give tables my name at the end of ordering because they seem to remember it better that way, so after Mom orders, I say:

Me: “My name is also [Girl #2]! Please let me know if you need anything at all.”

The little girls’ faces lit up. From that point on, every time I was at the table, they called me by my name and giggled with excitement. Mom let them do all the talking and make all the requests from then on since they were having so much fun. Any time I glanced over to keep an eye on the table, they were peeking over the top of the booth at me. It was so cute.

When they asked for boxes at the end, I wrote, “Stay awesome,” and, “Stay amazing,” with hearts on the tops of the boxes so that they would see it and be surprised as they closed the boxes. They loved it and jumped up and asked me for a hug.

On their way out of the restaurant, they stopped at the drink station and asked me for my autograph. I signed the boxes, and they were over the moon about it. They giggled and glanced back at me the whole way out of the restaurant.

It was truly one of my favorite experiences after working in restaurants for seven years and absolutely the best thing to help me get through a long shift.

A friend and I are customers in a shop, mostly just doing the tourist thing. Someone’s kids are sprinting around the store doing a hide-and-seek kind of game around the shelves. They’re noisy but not destroying anything, so I’d count that as a small blessing for the staff.

Friend: “Hey, let’s get lunch after this. My stomach is starting to gnaw at me.”

I grab my phone and use it to Google food places nearby, and we find a fish place with pretty good ratings. We’re kind of gathered around my phone, looking at their online menu.

Me: “Their parmesan pollock looks pretty good…”

Kid’s Voice: “Pollock!”

I look up, surprised, as one of the kids goes sprinting through the store yelling “pollock” loudly like he just learned a new swear word. My friend snorts in amusement, and I shrug. It doesn’t take two minutes for the other kids in the store to take up the new word.

Friend: “I guess it does kind of sound like a word you’d say when you stub your toe…”

I snicker.

Apparently, the kids’ mom thinks so, too, because she storms over to us while we stand in line and starts berating us for “teaching children bad words”.

Me: “Ma’am, I didn’t teach your children any bad words.”

Mother: “Then why are they yelling that word all over the store?”

Me: “Because they probably don’t know what it means, just that it sounds like it might be a bad word?”

Mother: *Crossing her arms* “If it’s so harmless, then maybe you should explain the word.”

She has a smirk as if she thinks she has caught me in a lie and I’m going to fumble with the explanation.

Me: *Rolling my eyes* “Fine. It’s a fish.”

Mother: *Blank stare* “Excuse me?”

Me: “A pollock is a member of the cod family.”

Her blank stare continues.

Me: “Cod. You know, like codfish? We’re going to a fish restaurant, and I want to try it.”

Mother: *Suspiciously* “If it’s called cod, then why did you call it a pollock?”

I open my phone and show her.

Me: “Because it’s called pollock on the menu.”

The woman scowled at my phone for a long time and then turned and stomped away, muttering about made-up words to hide swear words.

My friend and I paid for our items and left the store, still occasionally hearing a child’s voice yell, “Pollock!” The fish, swear word or not, tasted great, by the way.

Due to assorted events I won’t bore you with, I inherited a stray puppy. I knew he wasn’t lost and didn’t have an owner looking for him. I was the only one of my immediate friends willing to put in the effort to see he was cared for. He was a rambunctious pup, getting into all the standard sort of trouble you would expect of a puppy, but he got along great with my cats and seemed like he would make a great pet for someone.

Unfortunately, I personally have never been a dog person; dogs are too much of a commitment to care for, and I just like cats more as pets.

My original plan was to take him to the local pound and let them find him a home, but when I called them on the phone, they sounded less than confident that they could rehome him. I couldn’t understand why; he was the perfect adoptable age and seemed like he would be snatched up immediately. Still, I didn’t want to risk them putting him down, so I decided to make my own good-faith effort to find him a home first. I put out a few ads online and almost immediately had a couple with a young girl show up at my house.

The girl simply adored the puppy, chasing him around and playing with him as I spoke to the parents. Unfortunately, the parents I was not as certain about. It seems the girl had declared that she wanted a puppy a day before, so they were here to pick one up without any more thought. 

Me: “I don’t know his medical history; you will need to take him to a vet to get looked at and his shots.”

Woman: “How much would that cost?”

Me: “I’m not really sure. A few hundred maybe?”

Man: “You said he was free!”

Me: “He is, I’m not charging anything for him myself. But I did say that his medical record was unknown; he still needs all the stuff any new puppy requires.”

Man: “Why didn’t you do all that already?”

Me: “I’ve had him for less than a week and was hoping to adopt him out quickly. To be frank, I’ve had neither the time nor the desire to spend that much on a puppy I don’t intend to keep. If I had trouble finding him a home, I might have done it, but there are already a few who seem interested in him, so it didn’t seem necessary.”

Woman: “If we keep him inside, he probably doesn’t need shots anyway…”

There was a little more back and forth here, but the net result was the distinct impression that they were saying they would take him to a vet to appease me but had no intention of doing so. They also seemed taken aback that he wasn’t fully house-trained yet, and I was a little worried that they didn’t know what to do about training him.

The mom seemed to have reservations about it, but the dad plowed right thought them, and neither seemed to have given any thought to the actual effort of owning a dog.

I’m not an expert at rehoming animals, but my instincts told me this wouldn’t work out. I probably should have said as much to the parents immediately. However, their daughter clearly adored the pup; I’ve always had a hard time saying no to cute kids, and I didn’t want to make her cry.

Me: *To little girl* “He really seems to like you.”

Girl: “Yeah! Can we take him home?”

Me: “Well, I’d like to give him to you, but dogs need a lot of stuff to take care of them, like a collar and leash, bowls and food, maybe a bed, and a few toys. He wouldn’t be happy without them.”

The girl had already told me they didn’t have a yard since they lived in “a big house with lots of houses in it” so, at the very least, I knew they would need a collar and leash to walk him properly.

Man: “Don’t you have all that stuff?”

Me: “No, I haven’t had him for long. I have a small bag of dog food I could send with you, but other than that I’ve made do with a fenced-in yard and reusing the cats’ stuff for him since I was hoping to rehome him quickly.”

Girl: “You mean we can’t have him?”

Me: “Well, I’ll make you a deal. I can hold him for a few more days while your parents buy him everything he needs and make an appointment with a vet to make sure he is healthy. Then, if you bring me a photo of everything you got for him and proof of the vet visit to show you’re ready for him, you could take him then.”

Girl: “Okay!”

Man: “Why can’t we take him now?”

Woman: *At the same time* “Why a vet visit?”

Me: “I’m sorry, but I can’t give him to you until I know he has everything and I have proof that a vet visit is planned.”

Woman: “That costs too much!”

Man: “You said he was free! We can just take him now like you said!”

Me: “I said he was free to a good home. I’m sorry, but that means a home willing to pay to care for him.”

Man: “You promised our girl a dog. You didn’t say any of this other junk. We want the dog!”

Me: “The ‘other junk’ is supposed to be presumed when you get a pet. I can’t give him to you unless I know he will be cared for.”

Girl: “It’s okay, Dad. We can get him tomorrow.”

Man: “No, we’re not waiting or wasting money on a vet.”

Me: “Sir, your daughter is watching. Is this the behavior you want to model to her?”

Man: “Give me that d*** dog!”

Me: *Bending down to the daughter* “You are great with the puppy, and I think he would love you. But I’m really, really, sorry; I can’t let your parents have him when they say they won’t take care of him.”

Girl: “We can’t have him?”

Me: “I’m really sorry, but no. He needs parents that will love him.”

Woman: “How could you do that to her?”

Me: “Ma’am, I’m sorry ,but it’s the two of you who are doing it by not being willing to care for her pet.”

Man: “F*** that. We’ll just take him now.”

Me: “I have your names, your phone number, and your car’s license plate on video — the same video that would record you leaving with a dog I didn’t give you. If you try to take him, the cops will be at your door in an hour.”

Girl: *Now crying* “But he likes me!”

Me: “I’m so sorry. Maybe once your parents are ready to care for a pet, you can get one.”

Woman: “What if we came back with a picture of a leash and all?”

Me: “I’m sorry, but at this point, I’m not confident that he would get the medical care he needs. The answer is no.”

There were some more angry words from the parents, and I personally felt terrible watching the cute girl clinging to her mom trying to hold back tears. I really wanted her to have the puppy, but I couldn’t do it if the parents didn’t plan to care for him. 

Eventually, they left.

Two days later, a slightly older married couple showed up. They already had two dogs, knew exactly what it took to care for them, and had even brought their dogs to meet the pup to make sure they all got along first. They took the puppy home instead.

I’m not sure if I should hope the little girl got a pet eventually or pray that no canine was forced into her parents’ home.