(It’s my senior year in high school and I have finally saved up the money to go out for sports. I choose track and field since I love running. We are at a meet at a neighboring school, and I’m running the 400-meter relay. I turn a corner and see a girl from our rival school lying in the ditch. I immediately stop and help her. I get her mostly conscious and we start walking slowly across the field to her team. My classmates start booing and jeering loudly. I can see my coach shaking her head. I finally get the girl back to her team, and they get her to a doctor. I go to sit with my team, where they proceed to berate me for the rest of the meet. My coach refuses to speak to me, but sends her favorite student to tell me how upset and disappointed in me she is that I “threw the race.” I am sitting on the bleachers, crying silently, when two students from the other team approach me.)

Student #1: “Hey, we just wanted to say thanks for helping our friend.”

Student #2: “Yeah, that was so awesome.”

(They quickly left, but their kindness has stayed with me for decades. I’m now 43, and I will never forget it.)

(I am both a student teacher and a part-time private school teacher, so my days are pretty packed. I learn that in order to obtain my credential, I need to renew my CPR certification. I have been up since seven in the morning, worked until five thirty, and am now sitting in a CPR class that’s scheduled to end at ten o’clock at night, so I am very tired, and that, coupled with chronic sinus congestion, causes me to yawn admittedly quite a bit during instructions. However, I am still able to concentrate and follow directions, and no one seems to be bothered by it. I am sitting toward the back with one another person, who decides to speak to me while the final CPR exam is passed out.)

CPR Classmate: “Hey. You yawned seventy-three times.”

Me: “…”

CPR Classmate: “Seventy-three times.”

Me: “…”

CPR Classmate: “Seriously. I counted.”

(I know she’s exaggerating, but I can feel my face flush as I try to ignore her and focus on my exam. She seems to notice my change in mood.)

CPR Classmate: “I’m kidding!”

Me: “Okay, then…”

(Have to give her credit – her unwarranted and unnecessary ‘joke’ embarrassed me so much that I stifled every other yawn I had until we were dismissed!)

(We’re nearing the end of final exam period at university and since I’m graduating the past few weeks have been excessively stressful. Between all night study sessions on and off, working off campus, and grad papers, I haven’t had much time to take care of my appearances and haven’t showered for a few days. Because of this, I’m really self-conscious about how I look, especially in crowded places like public transit. I’m heading to take my final exam waiting for the bus when I notice a little kid nearby with his mother who is staring at me. I assume it’s because I look like total crap, so I pull on my hood to hide, hoping the kid will look away. When he doesn’t, I turn to him and nervously try to play it off.)

Me: “Yeah, take a good look kid… This is what university does to you.”

Boy: *gets really happy* “You mean it makes people pretty?!”

(His delightful compliment was so genuine I almost started crying right there. That kid managed to make me smile and feel amazing for the first time in weeks. The feeling didn’t leave me even after I finished and passed my exam! Thanks, kid!)

(I am on the phone discussing the lunch options provided for a training course the customer will be attending.)

Customer: “Will there be any gluten-free options available for lunch?”

Me: “Absolutely! You’ll be going to [Restaurant] and they have plenty of gluten-free options.”

Customer: “Are you sure? Because I cannot have any gluten at all; I’m extremely intolerant to it.”

Me: “I guarantee there will be gluten-free options available. My boss has Coeliac disease so she’s in the same boat, and I’m a vegetarian myself so I definitely understand the need for certain dietary requirements.”

Customer: *loud exaggerated sigh* “I’m so sick of people comparing gluten intolerance to vegetarianism. YOURS is a choice. MINE is not.”

Me: “Oh, umm I was just trying to assure you that I understand your requirements and I’ll make sure to let the restaurant know.”

Customer: “See that you do.”

(I was tempted to call the restaurant and ask them to sprinkle her meal with flour.)

(I am travelling in Prishtina, Kosovo, when I happen to step on a broken glass bottle and my foot immediately starts to bleed profusely. Not wanting to call for an ambulance I simply head to the nearest public place, which in this case happens to be a bar, hoping they will have a first aid kit.)

Me: “Excuse me, do you have a first aid kit?”

Barkeeper: “Sorry, I speak only little English.”

Me: “Disinfect?” *pointing to my shoe, now almost entirely coloured red from the blood*

Barkeeper: “Ahh.” *he proceeds to hand me a huge bottle of very nice vodka* “This.”

(I thank him, pour some of the vodka in a glass, and go to the bathroom to disinfect the wound with the alcohol. The wound is luckily not too deep despite the massive bleeding. I use the paper towels to stop the bleeding and head back to the bar.)

Me: “Thank you so much! How much for the vodka?”

Barkeeper: “No. Vodka is free.” *he hands me the rest of the bottle* “This goes in your mouth. Keep. Present from Kosovo.”

(I am shocked, thank him again, and leave him a nice tip, which he tried very hard to refuse. Then I limp off with my almost full one-litre bottle of the best vodka in the house. The wound didn’t get infected, and healed quite nicely in a couple of days. The Kosovan hospitality is definitely not a myth!)