Like many Canadians, my friend worked in a famous coffee chain named after a hockey player. These restaurants can get very busy during the peak times of the day, so patience can run a tad thin in the workers.

[Friend] lived in a small town with a high retiree population, so this coffee house gave a senior’s discount, and the seniors knew about it. It was common for them to request their discount along with their order to ensure they got it.

One day, a senior woman came in during the afternoon rush, and [Friend] greeted her as he normally did.

Friend: “How may I help you?”

Old Lady: “I want a small coffee and my senior’s discount.”

[Friend] began pouring the coffee into the cup.

Friend: “Okay, what would you like in your coffee?”

Old Lady: “I want my senior’s discount.”

Friend: “Yes, ma’am. I will give you your discount. How do you take your coffee?”

Old Lady: *Getting more demanding* “I want my senior’s discount!”

Friend: *Getting exasperated* “Ma’am, I understand. I will give you your discount, but I first need to make your coffee. What do you want in your coffee?”

Old Lady: “MY SENIOR’S DISCOUNT!”

My friend had reached his end. The senior’s discount on a small coffee worked out to be about $0.10, so he reached into the cash till, picked out a shiny new dime, dropped it into the coffee, put the lid on, handed it to the old lady, and said

Friend: “Okay, ma’am. One small coffee with the senior’s discount.”

He immediately went for a break and never came back.

As far as [Friend] could tell, the lady didn’t have any kind of mental issue; she had the full capacity of all of her functions and was just being demanding due to entitlement.

My great-grandma, while miraculously still alive, is senile and half-deaf, so we are never sure if she understands what’s going on around her at any given time. Nonetheless, we try to include her during mealtimes and such.

One day, the whole family is having breakfast together and chatting.

Brother: “[Friend] got in some kind of trouble with the cops. I’m not sure what for, but I think it was soliciting…”

Mom: “Shut it! Saying such things in front of your Nana, honestly!”

Brother: “What? She’s not even listening!”

Nana: *Suddenly yelling* “FLAT A*** AIN’T WORTH THE MONEY, HON!”

She was, in fact, listening.

I worked for a call center that serviced a direct-mail program for mass-market romance novels — you know, the kind that you usually see near supermarket checkouts. The publisher would take out ads in magazines for a free month’s subscription with three to six books, depending on the series, with a gift — most often trinket boxes or cheap glassware you might find at a dollar store. Most callers were paying invoices in those days before e-commerce was the thing it is now; very often, we’d get complaints about service or content.

A little old lady called one day asking to talk to someone about her free month of books within a certain series that included graphic sexual scenes. It was nothing illegal or kinky, just sex within the typical romance formula. I braced myself for the onslaught; I fully expected an uptight old church lady to ream me out for peddling smut. I was pleasantly surprised when she said she would like to continue her subscription.

Lady: “I’m seventy-eight years old, and every month I go to the seniors’ dance at the VFW hall. I like to take home a nice gentleman, and we read the books together and act them out.”

And she proceeded to give me, in excruciating detail, an account of her last night out where she picked up a retired fireman and what she did to his “little helmet.” And because I knew my boss would hand my tuchas to me if I laughed or showed any emotion, I was a captive audience for live granny smut.

I went home and got smashed. Granny had a better sex life than I did.

I work in a restaurant. I was only scheduled one day this week, and when I went in for my shift, I got a table fairly quickly. It was just a one-top: a little older lady. She kind of reminded me of the iguana assistant from the movie “Sing”, but not in a bad way. She was one of the sweetest customers I’ve had in such a long time. She was very polite and was really nice to me in general.

My restaurant uses a tablet system to pay. Basically, a tablet thing sits on your table, and customers use that to pay. They can also play games and stuff on them.

Basically, these things are a pain in the a**, especially for the older crowd. I don’t know why they thought this customer base was the best for upgraded payment systems, but whatever.

The lady pays, and she tells me:

Lady: “I accidentally forgot to tip, but I want to tip you because I really enjoyed your service.”

Her bill was about $50. I was going to find my manager to pull back her receipt, as we need managers’ cards for certain things on the computers, but when I walked into the office, the bartender was filling out an incident report.

I backed out slowly and went back to the lady. I couldn’t have printed the receipt for her to sign, either, because there’s no option for that after it’s printed after using the tablet. I just figured I would ring in something cheap and she could leave a tip on that, so that’s what I did.

I rang in something that was like three bucks. The lady paid for it and said she was going to leave 20%. I didn’t think about it until I looked at the notification for how much I had gotten tipped.

It was only $.86. And honestly, I just kind of laughed. I wasn’t upset about it. The lady really did try to tip me 20% of her original bill, but it was just a weird situation. It really was the thought that counted, to be honest.

Security on this airline is known to be really tough. I am waiting to go through security behind the quintessential sweet little old lady.

She is setting off all sorts of bells and whistles but apparently having trouble hearing or understanding the security guard. He looks at her, rolls his eyes, and waves her on through.

I am through quickly and as I am passing her, she catches my eye.

Little Old Lady: “Humph! He didn’t think I could be a terrorist, did he?!”