I am a Goth and therefore I always have my hair dyed black. Since many people in the dark alternative scene use makeup, I want to add that I don’t ever do this.

I am a university student, and one day, when I only have to attend lectures in the afternoon, I go to a hairdresser first to have my hair dyed. After that, I meet a friend who is also a fellow student and we walk together to our first lecture that day.

Unfortunately, it is raining and I don’t have an umbrella, so my hair gets really wet.

The whole afternoon, I notice people looking quite strangely at me, but since nobody says anything and my friend is acting perfectly normal toward me, I don’t give it much thought.

After our lectures, my friend comes home with me for a cup of coffee. When I go to the bathroom and look into the mirror, I suddenly know why I had gotten so many strange looks at university!

The hairdresser obviously didn’t rinse my hair properly, so the rain caused black streaks from the hair dye all over my face and neck! I look like a creature from a horror movie!

I jump back into the kitchen where my friend is sitting.

Me: “Look at me! You must have noticed from the beginning! Why on earth didn’t you tell me?!”

Friend: “Oh, I thought it was funny seeing you run around like that.”

Thanks a lot.

I’m training as a cook in a fine-dining restaurant. The head chef tells me on my first day to take home any leftovers I want that would otherwise get thrown out anyway; everyone in the kitchen does it, and many servers also pack little lunch bags for themselves every day.

I’m surprised, because any other food service place I worked at before was very strict with leftovers and meals for workers, sometimes even making us pay full price if we ate stuff that was going to be thrown out or could not be sold for some reason.

One day, the chefs miscalculate the savoury tarts they need for a special dinner and we end up with two whole trays left over. After everyone has had their pick, I begin stacking the last tarts — at least fifteen or so — in a to-go container.

Head Chef: “Woah, you really like those, don’t you? Are you going to be eating them for the whole week?”

I’m nervous, because I’m still fairly new at this place and wondering if I misjudged the situation and shouldn’t take more than maybe one or two for myself.

Me: “Actually, I had an idea. I walk past [Train Station that is a well-known hangout/sleeping place for many homeless people] on my way home, and I was gonna hand them out to anyone who wants some. They’re good to eat cold, right?”

Head Chef: “Absolutely. That’s a wonderful idea. Here, let’s pack some sweet tarts, too.”

I’m relieved he’s not actually mad, and many of the homeless people are happy about the free food. A few weeks later, I come into work after a big Christmas party booking the day before, and the head chef waves me over.

Head Chef: “So, we have about twenty leftover Christmas dinners in the walk-in fridge upstairs. I told the night crew to keep them for you for the train station. Make sure to tell me before you leave, so we can heat them up and pack ’em to go, okay?”

I was a bit flabbergasted. True to his word, I found several trays of roast goose, sauce, dumplings, veggies, and red cabbage in the fridge, and he helped me with reheating and packaging them after the dinner rush.

Thanks to the attention of a very conscientious head chef, a whole group of homeless people were treated to a first-class Christmas meal. That was the point at which I realised I was quite lucky to get a trainee position at his restaurant and learn from him.

This story is part of our Most Inspirational Of 2020 roundup!

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We only have very few guests at the hotel due to health restrictions. I’m manning the front desk during the afternoon and am completely alone in the hotel, save for the few guests we have. I made my rounds through all corridors and rooms earlier in the day, before checking in the only three guests we have for that night: just three businessmen in three rooms, all next to each other.

A little while after checking in, they all come back downstairs. They have a little dog with them. I’m a little puzzled, because I didn’t see them come in with the dog — hidden in a bag? — or I would have told them about the pet fee we charge. As I have someone else on the phone, I decide to address it when they come back.

Once I’m done with the phone call, I decide to do another round and double-check that all windows and doors to the outside are closed. In the corridor directly in front of our guests’ rooms, I very nearly step into feces. I’d say the dog really needed to go and they noticed too late. It is spread through a quarter of the corridor, ending just before the staircase.

Of course, I get to clean it up. Yay!

About an hour later, the three of them come back. Wherever they were, they are definitely drunk now.

Me: “Welcome back!”

Guest #1: “Good evening!”

[Guest #2] waves at me, pretty obviously drunk. He is carrying the little dog, badly hidden in his jacket.

Me: “Um… excuse me, sir? We charge a fee of 15€ per night, per pet. Which of your rooms would you like me to charge the fee to?”

Guest #2: “Oh! But he is so small! That’s so much money for such a little dog! Come on, you look like such a nice girl!”

Me: “I’m very sorry, but I really can’t do that. It’s our policy.”

Guest #2: “Please, please! Look how small he is! He never makes any trouble! No dirt, nothing!”

Me: “Sir, with all due respect, I just spent half an hour cleaning feces out of the carpet in the corridor in front of your rooms. I could add an extra cleaning fee for that. I’m doing my best to be accommodating. Which room would you like me to charge the pet fee to?”

Guest #1: “But he’s so small! Look at him! It couldn’t have been that bad—”

[Guest #3] sighs and starts pushing the other two towards the elevator.

Guest #3: “I’ll take care of it.” *To me* “I’m so sorry; they are very drunk. I’ll be right back!”

I have no idea how to translate drunken slurring into English. But [Guest #2] kept whining at me like a little child and [Guest #1] was nearly yelling at me. [Guest #3] came back shortly and paid the pet fee immediately. He apologized again. The poor guy was obviously very embarrassed by his colleagues.

Related:
In All This We Feel Sorry For The Dog

I work at a Christmas market selling sausages at a booth. One customer doesn’t seem happy with the change I gave her.

Customer: “Excuse me, this bill has something written on it. I want another bill.”

Me: *Looking at the bill* “I can’t find anything wrong.”

Customer: *Sighs* “Right here.”

She points at a part of the bill; I can’t help but chuckle.

Me: “Madam, this is the signature of our financial minister. There is one like that on every banknote; it’s printed on and without it, it wouldn’t be valid and would be a forgery.”

Customer: “But there isn’t one on this one!”

She pulls out another note, with an obvious signature on it. I point it out to her.

Me: “There is a signature there, as well, see? It’s just from the last minister. I’m sorry, but you’re keeping other people waiting and I don’t have the time to look through my change to get you a bill with another signature.”

Customer: *Huffs away angrily*

I compete regularly in triathlons so I am quite confident in how to handle a bike. The day before Christmas Eve, I ride my bike for exercise in a city park, where dogs have to be kept on a leash, in the early morning when it is still dark. I have all my lights on, wear a reflective vest, and while I do exercise speed, I do slow down before I reach a curve, knowing that pedestrians and normal cyclists use the park.

When I reach such a curve, without warning, a black dog suddenly comes up in front of me, catching me by surprise. Instead of doing an emergency brake, I swerve around the dog, lose control of my bike, and crash directly into a tree. While shaken and definitely aching from that encounter, I still am aware enough to note that the dog owner, also on a bike, casually drives by me being followed by her dog.

Me: “Hey, stop! You do know dogs should be kept on a leash here, right? Your dog just caused an accident here and I think my bike is damaged. Please stop so I can take your contact details in case there is any payable damage here.”

The owner stops and instantly screams at me.

Dog Owner: “How dare you accuse my dog of causing an accident?! If you are too stupid to ride a bike, you should not even be out here!”

I am speechless, especially that she nonchalantly keeps cycling away. While I am hurt and my bike is damaged, it is still working and I lift myself up and follow that woman on my bike until we leave the park and arrive at a traffic light.

Me: “Whoa, whoa, whoa. Your dog cannot just cause an accident with you running away as if it does not concern you. I don’t mind the bruises and everything but, in case I need compensation for bike repairs, I really need your contact details. If nothing comes out of it, no harm, no done.”

Cue continued yelling and screaming at me complete with refusal to give me her contact details. Then, when another pedestrian comes near us, this happens:

Dog Owner: “Help! Help! I am being harassed by this man! Please call the police! He doesn’t want to leave me alone!”

In the only stroke of luck that day, the pedestrian happens to be a good acquaintance of mine. After recognizing me, he says straight to the woman:

Acquaintance: “You are a liar. I have known this man for a long time and he would never harass anyone unless he had a legit cause.”

Flabbergasted, the woman then hightailed it across the road just as the pedestrian sign turned red and she just made it to the other side when the cars started crossing. Not wanting to risk my life for another chase, I went with my acquaintance to the police to report the incident and have yet to hear from them. Thanks a lot, lady, for making me spend Christmas with several grazes, a bruised elbow, and a bike in need of repairs if I want to use it for triathlons again.