My well-to-do aunt has ended up in the hospital. I’m the only family member who lives in the same city as her, so I step in to help her in every way I can. She has given me $500 to buy anything she needs, so I’m in a high-end clothing store holding a pair of men’s pyjamas pants — the only thing that will fit over the cast she has on her foot.

There is a man at the counter being served with a very complicated order. The woman helping him has to open a mountain of packages individually and scan the contents. Another man is standing in line and a woman comes off the floor to help him. He pays quickly and leaves, but so does the woman who helped him. I had taken his spot next in line, and it’s late at night so the man at the counter and I are the only two customers in the store, so it’s obvious that I’m ready to pay and go.

The floor woman floats back and forth from the floor to behind the counter, very careful to not make eye contact with me. I wait for far too long, and the sixth time she goes behind the counter and walks away again, I drop the pyjamas, making her look over at the sudden movement. When she looks over at me, I scoop up my planned purchase, lock eyes with her, and take two big steps to stand in front of the counter where she’d helped the other man.

With a rather discreet eye roll, she steps back behind the counter and takes the pants to scan them, but I walk away — past the first woman still working on the complicated order, who looks so apologetic, even though none of the events were her fault.

I go across the road to a lower-end store and buy a similar pair, pulling off the tagging and “losing” the receipt so my aunt doesn’t know it is a cheaper brand.

To be honest, I came from work, so I wasn’t dressed to the level that might be expected in that store, but I make some decent cash myself and have been known to shop there for my needs. I find it amusing to Pretty Woman them sometimes, standing in jeans and a band shirt and dropping $5,000 for some stuff I want, but I was stressed with my aunt’s injuries and wasn’t going to put up with their attitude this time.

I go into an independent coffee shop, grab a bag of espresso beans from a display, and take them to the counter.

Me: “Hi. Can I get these beans ground for espresso, please?”

Barista: “Sure. What machine do you have?”

Me: “Umm… an espresso machine.”

Barista: “Okay, but which one?”

I have never been asked that. They usually just choose the espresso setting on the grinder and whir away.

Me: “I… don’t know. I bought it second-hand; there was no box. I never looked that closely at the brand.”

Barista: “Well, I can’t grind it if I don’t know the machine. Can I get you a drink or something?”

I pull my phone out and look up “espresso machine,” showing her the first result.

Barista: “Oh, an espresso machine. Not, like a Keurig or something.”

Me: “Yeah. An espresso machine.”

Barista: “So many people get their coffee ground by us and then want to return it when it doesn’t work in their Keurig or whatever.”

She turned and ground my coffee for me. I’ve taken a photo of my machine and keep it ready in my phone if I ever encounter the request to prove I have an espresso machine again, but it hasn’t come up since.

I’m the author of this story here.

Just before Christmas, our pharmacist comes by to drop off some meds for my husband, roommate, and me.

Pharmacist: “Do you remember the woman from Thanksgiving that paid for [Husband]’s meds?”

Me: “Of course we do! How could we forget?”

Despite the fact that the pharmacist is wearing a mask, we can tell that he is smiling.

Pharmacist: “Well, she called us up again and asked about you and how you were doing, and then she told us to leave you a Christmas gift for her.”

We’re all wondering what else she could have possibly done.

Pharmacist: “She’s given you a credit at the pharmacy to help pay for your meds.”

Awesome, right?! We’re thinking she paid for this round of meds that the pharmacist is dropping off.

Pharmacist: “[My Name], guess how much she left you guys.”

Me: “I have no idea. These meds?”

He looks me dead in the eye.

Pharmacist: “[My Name], she left you guys $500.”

My jaw dropped. I’m not too proud to say that I ugly cried; we all did. That was by far the best Christmas present I’ve gotten in years. [Kind Woman], wherever you are, my husband I appreciate you. Thank you so much.

Related:
Kindness Isn’t The Best Medicine But It Can Help You Buy It

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

Read the next Feel Good roundup for January 2021 story!

Read the Feel Good roundup for January 2021!

It’s Christmastime in the early 2000s and we’re very busy trying to help everyone find their gifts.

Me: “Hello, ma’am, is there anything I can help you find?”

Customer: “I’ve been to over a dozen bookstores and I can’t find this book for my daughter.”

Me: “We’ll see what we can do. What’s it called?”

Customer: “It’s the Facebook.”

Me: “I’m not familiar with that one. Is it a makeup tutorial or something like that?”

Customer: “I don’t know. She just never stops talking about it and I want to surprise her. I think it has something to do with the Internet.”

Then, it clicked for me that she was talking about the website “Facebook,” and I did my best to explain it to her. She was very embarrassed but she appreciated my honesty. To this day, I don’t understand how so many other stores let her go on trying to find “the Facebook.”

I work for a taxi company answering the phones and arranging taxis for customers. It’s New Year’s Eve, the biggest night of the year for cabs.

Me: “[Taxi Company], may I start with your phone number?

The caller has clearly had a few.

Caller: “Yeah, it’s [number].”

Me: “Okay…”

I type in the number, but no previous addresses show up.

Me: “And where are you tonight?”

Caller: “What? Well, I’m in Timbuktu. What does it matter?”

Me: “I need to know where you are so I can send you a taxi.”

Caller: “…”

Me: “Do you need a taxi, sir?”

Caller: “…”

Me: “Can you tell me why you called, sir?”

Caller: “Umm…”

His voice trails off; I wait for a few seconds.

Me: “Have a good night, sir.”

I ended the call. He never called back, so I never did figure out what he wanted.