Sometimes, a feel-good story can make a person smile, so here is my feel-good story.

I was working the late shift at a call center for a major retail chain’s website. Hey, it was money, and I had to pay bills. Our computers were crashing with every other order, and yet we had to keep taking calls.

I got a call from a woman who wanted to get a few electronics. Apparently, the website wasn’t behaving and she couldn’t get an order to go through. I was starting to help her when, yet again, our system went down. I told her we could either chat until it was back up, or she could call back later, but she elected to chat. It was slow, so our call times were not being monitored as heavily.

Caller: “What do you do as a hobby?”

Me: “I’m an avid photographer.”

Caller: “Oh, I love photography! I used to do modeling, and I always admired the photographers’ equipment. I hoped to do that after school, but I’m in a wheelchair now due to an accident.”

She started crying.

Caller: “My dream of being a photographer is gone because I can’t walk anymore.”

Me: “No, it isn’t. Just because you can’t walk, it doesn’t mean you can’t take photos.”

Caller: “Really?!”

I started talking about cameras and basic photography, and when the system finally came back up, I started taking her through some of the equipment the site had, told her what was good for beginners, and even told her some of my favorite photographers who are also disabled.

By the time she was ready to go through an order, she was getting camera equipment as well as the other items she had wanted to order. She was SO happy that she asked to talk to my supervisor after, and apparently, she went and gave me a big compliment to my supervisor. She went from crying because she thought her dream of doing photos was over to cry-laughing because I told a few corny photo jokes and got her to realize that she can still do what she wanted to do. I got a huge email later from my supervisor about it.

You get a lot of jerks — and I mean A LOT of jerks — when you work in a call center, especially since they think they can treat you however they want since they can’t see you, but calls like that really made the job not so bad after all.

On my way home from work, I’m involved in a car accident. While I don’t sustain major injuries, I am advised to take some time off work to recover. I call the store I work at to let them know.

Me: “Hey, it’s [My Name]. I won’t be able to come in until [date]; I was in a car accident.”

Manager #1: “Mhmm, okay. See ya.”

I do think it’s a little weird that the manager doesn’t react much, but I’ve made my phone call and passed on the information, so I’ve done what I needed to do.

The next day, I get a phone call from work.

Manager #2: “Hey, [My Name], where are you? You’re late for work!”

Me: *Pauses* “I was in a car accident and won’t be in until [date]. I told [Manager #1] yesterday over the phone.”

Manager #2: “Oh, my God, I hope you’re okay! I’ll talk with her about it. Let me know if that date changes and if there’s anything you need from us.”

After I returned to work, I found out that [Manager #1] had only written down that I had called out for that day, not the next few days. Why she didn’t notice that I was already off work for that day, I don’t know. She never did apologize or even admit that she was in the wrong.

CONTENT WARNING: Cancer

 After I took a few days off work while my father was having a brain tumor removed (and still checking emails and attending conference calls from the hospital), my boss gave me a new project. On a Thursday afternoon, she gave me a Monday morning deadline for a project that would take six to eight days to complete. I worked sixteen hours a day to get it done.

When we met on Monday…

Boss: “How was your weekend?”

Me: “I worked all weekend.”

Boss: “Oh. Did you get to visit your dad in the hospital?”

Me: “No, I didn’t get a chance because I worked all weekend.”

A couple of weeks later, she pulled me into a meeting.

Boss: “I feel like you were resentful because you had to work, and I feel like I was really good when your dad was sick. Maybe you’re just tired. Are you tired?”

I tried to explain my situation, again. Then, she got onto the topic of me leaving the office on time — not early, but ON TIME.

Boss: *Passive-aggressively* “It’s great that you just get up and go when your day is over. I have to go because I have a daughter, but you don’t have any kids, and you just leave at the end of the day.”

At that point, I was done.

Me: “I don’t live here. I don’t go home and sit in a dark room counting the hours until I get to come back here. I’m also not curing cancer. Nothing we do here matters to anyone outside of here. I give you 100% when I’m here, but when my day is done, it’s f****** done.”

Boss: “Do we have a problem?”

Me: “No, because I no longer work here.”

Best decision I ever made.

This happened to me about eight years back. It was the summer before my senior year in high school, and my best friend at the time invited me to stay with her and her dad’s family in Florida for two weeks.

Much to my chagrin — on a beach vacation, no less — I got my period. I had brought supplies with me just in case, and I disposed of them wrapped up in toilet paper in the lidded garbage can in the shared bathroom we were using, as one does.

On the third day of the trip, her dad approached me.

Friend’s Dad: “[Friend’s Step-Brother] saw your period products in the bathroom garbage can. He was totally disgusted. Don’t throw them out there so my son won’t have to see that.”

Was he digging around in there like a weirdo? It would be a lot harder for him to see them than to avoid them, in my opinion.

Me: “Okay. Where do you suggest I dispose of my ‘disgusting’ products, then, to avoid upsetting your son?”

I thought it was a kind of ridiculous request since this is a natural body process I can’t control, but I wanted to do what I could since I was a guest there.

Friend’s Dad: “Just hold it in until we go out to dinner or something and throw it out in a public restroom.”

Sir, you have a daughter. How can you not know that’s not how things work?

Me: “What should I do if that isn’t an option?”

Friend’s Dad: “Just flush it, then, so he doesn’t have to see it.”

Cue malicious compliance. Yes, sir, instead of wrapping up my used tampon in some toilet paper and tucking it into the trash can (which has a g**d*** LID), I will flush it down the toilet instead.

The first one went down just fine. The second time, it went down with a gurgle. But the third one made the toilet back up and overflow.

I’ll always remember the sight of [Friend’s Dad] pumping that toilet only for a partially dissolved bloody tampon to float to the surface of the bowl. I went back to putting them in the trash, and he didn’t say another word about it.

We are a few minutes from closing, and a customer has been loitering.

Customer: “What do you do with the sandwiches when they expire?”

Me: “Well, we don’t let them expire. We make them fresh every day, and when they’re not sold by the end of the day, we donate them to a homeless shelter.”

Customer: “So, you don’t throw any out back?”

Me: “Rarely — only if they might have gone bad or been contaminated.”

Customer: “Well, what if I want something contaminated?”

He did not get any sandwiches that day, contaminated or otherwise.