Good Deeds Are A Family Affair

, | Phoenix, AZ, USA | Hopeless | April 29, 2017

I have been having horrible depression and anxiety for the past few weeks. This is to the point where nothing sounded good food wise, until I decided that teppanyaki sounded good and so I travel out to the closest one and decide to treat myself.

There are a number of delays and misinformation that almost makes the meal not happen and then a family comes in to share the meal with me. These things are always fun to watch, especially if you have a chef and a receptive audience that doesn’t mind making jokes. The family is lovely to talk to and they include me in the jokes and conversations without any awkwardness. It really made my night and my mood has lifted considerably by the time the end of the meal comes and the checks are presented.

My biggest shock of the night was when the mother of the group took my check from the waitress and paid for my meal! It was enough to be included in the family and to be encouraged and joked with. Having them pay for a (very expensive in my world) meal was unreal and something like I read on this site, so I had to share.

Family: if you happen to read these stories, thank you again, from the bottom of my heart. Every last moment was amazing and full of laughter and smiles.

Acts Of Kindness You Can Put Your (Chicken) Finger On

, , | AL, USA | Hopeless | April 28, 2017

(I’m the customer here. I walk in to my campus’s chicken wing place, the only on-campus food location open late. I’m good friends with the staff on both shifts at the wing bar, and I’m going in to get dinner. I’m kinda tight on cash, and the food’s quite expensive at said wing bar. The three employees — the manager and two others — greet me upon entering. I stumble and stammer a bit before getting my order out of my mouth.)

Me: “Hey, [Manager]… cash is kinda tight, but I’ll get my usual.”

(Said “usual” is a five-piece chicken-finger plate costing $10.99 plus tax.)

Manager: “Sure, hon.”

(The manager rang me up, and the total on the card reader looked off – it’s only $2.52. I’m not exactly thinking about it, so I follow through with the purchase. The receipt printed, and I find out that I’ve only been rung up for French fries. I realize immediately what my friend, the manager, had done. I stared agape at the receipt for a second, and then silently mouthed “Thank you” to her — she’s just written off an $11 order of chicken as shrinkage for me, basically giving me $14 of food for $2.52. I was not expecting this at all. I had idly said money was tight, and was fully prepared to pay full price for my food! I freaking love the people working at that place.)

Grandma’s Cake Cures All

, , | Germany | Hopeless | April 18, 2017

(This is actually a happy story, not an angry one! The fairly new cafe/bakery kitchen I work at is mostly run by young, enthusiastic but non-professional workers. Our boss has encouraged us to try out new recipes we find interesting, and if they sell well they’re added to the menu. On this day I’ve baked an apple and fruit cake that I’ve learnt from my grandma. A customer comes in early, while I’m transferring it onto a plate for the display case, and gasps.)

Customer: “This smell! What is that smell?”

Me: “Probably this fresh-baked cake!” *holding up the plate*

Customer: “I smells like my grandma’s kitchen!”

Me: “Funny enough, it is a recipe from MY grandma.”

(The customer buys a slice of the cake and coffee and returns his dishes when he’s done.)

Customer: “It even tastes like my grandma’s cake. Incredible. Did you steal my grandmother?” *laughs*

Me: *also laughing* “Yep, we have her in the kitchen right now, making more cakes.”

Customer: “Oh, she would’ve probably loved doing that. Sadly, she passed away a few years ago.”

Me: “Oh, gosh, I’m sorry—”

Customer: “No, you couldn’t have known. You made me very happy with this cake today! Thank you!”

(The customer has become a regular, returning once a week to buy a piece of the cake — which has also become a staple in our menu. I have by now given him the recipe, with my boss’ permission, but he still comes in ‘for the feeling of having grandma bake it.’ I love this guy.)

A Hot Slice Of Justice Is Required

, , , , | CA, USA | Working | April 16, 2017

Years ago I worked at a popular chain coffee shop. I was born and raised and still live in one of the most expensive areas in the country. At the time I have gone back to college full-time, so I work full-time as well to try to keep up with my bills. Most of my coworkers are teenagers who live with their parents, with two other exceptions besides me. The company launches a new promotional program for a paid incentive card and offers a competition of sorts to try to sell memberships with cash prizes for the stores that sell the most in the district at the end of the introductory period.

To motivate us the store manager says if we win anything, the staff members will split any cash prize the store earns. My fellow rent-paying coworkers and I knew that money would go far for us, so we all hustled like crazy and sold memberships to as many customers as we could. Our store ends up coming in first in the district. And then our manager says he has changed his mind about splitting the prize and will use the money to throw a staff pizza party instead.

The three of us who were counting on the cash were understandably pissed off, but given how we were all hand-to-mouth we weren’t about to turn down the free food. We weren’t any less pissed off when a few weeks later, the coworker who picked up the food told us what it had cost. Which made us realize that the manager had not in fact spent even close to the whole prize total on the ‘celebration,’ but pocketed almost half of it for himself.

A Helping Hand Is On The Menu

, , , | Petaluma, CA, USA | Hopeless | March 22, 2017

This is few years ago when I am a struggling college student. I work 40 hours a week at a coffee shop and take nine units in school, all I can manage with my workload, I also spend three nights a week at my grandmother’s house 40 miles away because she has dementia and we don’t want to put her in a home.

My work schedule is Sunday-Thursday with school Monday-Wednesday. I get off work on Thursday and drive straight to my grandmother’s to relieve my mother. I then stay with my grandmother Thursday – Sunday, going home Sunday morning to close my store.

In the same shopping center as my work is a Turkish restaurant that I go to whenever I have a little bit of extra money, for a treat. The owner is also a regular of the coffee shop where I work. One day he asks me about the change in my schedule, because before I started taking care of my grandmother I always worked Friday nights. I tell him about my grandmother and that I have to leave right after work on Thursdays.

For the next six months while I took care of my grandmother he or his wife always stopped by on Thursday with dinner for me and would refuse payment. If I tried to pay while they weren’t at the restaurant the money would wind up with the food the next week. Not only were they providing me with food, most of it was things that weren’t on the menu and that they had made special for me. It was the kindest thing anyone has ever done for me and became a bright spot in my otherwise hectic week.

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