Due to the recent health crisis, our hotel has limited staff and guest interactions as much as possible, including eliminating room service for dining. I receive calls like this multiple times a night because no one pays attention at check-in.

Guest: “Are you doing room service right now?”

Me: “No, ma’am, due to the restrictions in place from the health crisis. However, the restaurant is still taking to-go orders that you can come to pick up.”

Guest: “Oh, can someone bring it to my room?”

Me: *Restraining sarcasm* “No, ma’am, as that would be room service.”

I’m part of an Internet group that meets together to play board games. Our setup is that one person will host, and the rest of those who attend will bring snacks, potluck style, ensuring that there is plenty to go around.

My typical contribution is a meat and cheese mix on French bread slices. It’s pretty simple for me to throw together and a bit “fancier” than most snacks we have, and it is always a big hit. I will generally bring one or two trays’ worth.

One day, after a session, the host comes up to me as I am packing up and leaving.

Host: “What are you doing?”

Me: “Oh, I’m just going to be headed home.”

Host: “But why are you taking those?”

He points to the trays. I think he’s mixed them up with his trays.

Me: “Oh, I actually brought my snacks on these.”

Host: “But why are you taking them?”

Me: *Pause* “Because they’re mine.”

Host: “But you brought them. You can’t take them after you brought them.”

Me: “Uh…”

At that point, someone else distracted him with a question, and I quickly just scooted out of there.

He ended up making several posts about me and a few others “stealing” his stuff. We responded by pointing out the truth, that we were just taking the trays, bowls, and the leftovers of snacks we’d brought, but he ended up “rage-quitting” the group when people weren’t supporting him.

The really confusing thing was that he had hosted several times before and had never brought up any problem with us taking home what we’d brought.

I walk into the pharmacy to pick up my husband’s medication. Up until now, we’ve had pretty decent prescription coverage. When I arrive, there are three people there: a husband and wife and the wife’s elderly mother.

While our pharmacist is checking our insurance, we discover that my husband’s medication is no longer covered, which is a problem, as we don’t have the money to cover the full price this month. I start to worry and panic. By this point, the husband, wife, and mother have left the pharmacy already.

A few moments later, the pharmacy phone rings.

Me: “Go ahead and answer it while I figure out what I’m going to do.”

After she hangs up, she looks at me.

Pharmacist #1: “That was the woman that was here earlier with her husband and her mother. She’s offered to cover the rest of the cost of the medication you need.”

My heart soars and I tear up. I pay for what I can: $50 out of the original $110. 

I think that is the end of it and I am so grateful. After I get home, I text my other pharmacist and ask him to thank the wife for me profusely. About twenty minutes later, the pharmacist calls me back.

Pharmacist #2: “The woman called us back, and she insisted that we give you your money back. She insisted on paying completely for your medication.”

I cried in my living room. I told my husband what had just happened and he couldn’t believe it. 

We had never met these people before; they did this purely out of the goodness of their hearts. Wherever you and your family are, please know that my husband and I are eternally grateful for you. You really helped us out in a tight spot!

This story is part of our Feel Good roundup for October 2020!

Read the next Feel Good roundup story!

Read the Feel Good roundup for October 2020!

I am coming home from work on what might be one of the worst days since the start of the health crisis. We were understaffed, ran out of stock, and had a line for the entirety of my five-hour shift. While I am walking home, a bus stops beside me and the driver pops the door.

Bus Driver: “You heading to West Edmonton Mall?”

Me: “Just a bit further.”

I’m preparing to explain how I forgot my wallet and don’t have the fare. 

Bus Driver: “Get on.”

Me: “But—”

Bus Driver: “No, nope. I just had to call 9-1-1 on someone who overdosed. I could use the company.”

So, I got on the bus and we talked. She was running late cause she had stayed with the man until the ambulance showed up, and she was understandably a little shaken up. I talked about how I had been at work all day and nothing seemed to have gone right. 

She was really kind and understanding, and she was just what I needed to feel a little better. 

I don’t actually believe in fate, but I do think she was one of those passing ships that you meet in life. Thank you, random bus lady, and I hope I was able to make your day a little better, too.

This story is part of our Feel Good roundup for September 2020!

Read the next Feel Good roundup story!

Read the Feel Good roundup for September 2020!

On a major roadway, I drive over something in the middle of the lane that looks like a piece of ribbon at first, but I feel a bump when I go over it. A couple of kilometers later, other drivers start yelling out their windows that I’m leaking gas, so I pull into the next gas station.

I call my roadside assistance company and they tow me to one of their recommended mechanics. They’re closed when we arrive, so my sister drives me home and I phone first thing the next morning.

Me: “Hi there. Something punctured my gas tank so my truck was leaking gas everywhere last night. My truck is on your lot; I was wondering if you could take a look and tell me how much you think it will cost to fix.”

They agree but I don’t hear anything, so I phone again the next day.

Me: “Hi. I called yesterday about the red truck?”

Representative: “Oh, yeah! That one! Yeah, it’s the fuel tank. It’s punctured.”

Me: “Yeah, I know. How much will it cost to fix?”

Representative: “Well, I’ll have to look into it and get back to you.”

I wait for a few hours and call again that afternoon.

Me: “Hi. I’m looking for a quote on my truck.”

Representative: “Well, I told you. You need a new fuel tank.”

Me: “Okay, but do you know how much it will cost?”

Representative: “Let me take a look here and see how much that part would cost… plus labour… You’re looking at about $600 for a new tank with a one-year warranty.”

I take a few hours to talk to people close to me who know more about this stuff than I do and call them to tell them to go ahead with the new tank. Two or three days later, they leave a message on my phone late in the afternoon.

Message: “We’re calling to tell you that the tank we ordered arrived but it is the wrong tank for your truck and we can’t find one that fits, so our next step is to use a special material to patch the hole in your fuel tank.”

It’s too late to phone them when I hear this message, so I plan to phone them the next day after talking to the same people as before. This is a rough week, because I lose my phone that evening. After two days of searching with no luck and being advised by my boss and dad that the patch job will be too temporary to be worth it, I ask my mom to phone the mechanic to tell them to forget about it. To our horror, they inform her they’ve patched it up and are waiting for me to come get it.

Mom: “Well, how much are you going to charge?”

Representative: “We agreed on $600.”

Mom: “The $600 was for a new tank. Why did you go ahead with the work? We never consented.”

Representative: “It doesn’t matter; we’ve done the work so now you need to pay.”

Mom: “But you didn’t have a work order! She agreed to a new tank.”

Representative: “How about we do $500?”

Mom: “That’s too much money for a patch job! We never would have agreed to that and you didn’t have a work order!”

Representative: “Listen, the truck costs us money every day it’s up on the hoist. We can rip the patch off and you come get the truck, but it’s still gonna cost you a few hundred dollars.”

Mom: “Why didn’t you just put it back on the lot? We’re not paying $500 for a patch.”

Eventually, we managed to negotiate that they would fix a vandalized keyhole which I had been working around for months, and I would pay them $500 total. When I signed the paperwork, we learned that the patch job only had a six-month warranty instead of the original twelve months. 

Seven months later, the patch started falling off and I tried to submit a complaint about the mechanic to my roadside assistance company, as I was reminded of the terrible service and as frustrated as ever. They reached out to the mechanic, who claimed that they had never even heard of me or my little red truck.

We decided to pick our battles and just sold the truck for parts and bought a different one.