(I have a birth defect called Phocomelia; my arms are short and I don’t have hands, but I get by decently well. To avoid an extra stress I tend to go to the store late at night or early morning. I go late, as with four shopping days left until Christmas I know I can’t handle the extra large crowds that were made up of people who love to stare. I have gotten good at ignoring those around me unless they are in my way and in line of sight. I was putting my items on the belt and was in my own world. I hear a man and kids talking, but don’t think anything of it, until the two little girls come up to me.)

Older Girl: “Can I help?” *I am thrown off by the question, because it’s usually an adult that asks*

Me: “Sure, thank you!” *the older girl grabs the last of the items in the cart*

Younger Girl: “I didn’t get to help.”

Me: “It’s the thought that counts.” *I feel a little bad; she truly does want to help*

Their Father: “You can help her put the bags in the cart.”

(The father and girls talk, joke, and laugh while I wait to pay for my items. It’s a nice change to hear a parent interacting with the kids and keeping everything light and happy, as all the other parents I see in the store this night ignore or yell at their kids. When my items are being bagged the father tells them to help. I get one bag, the older girl gets another and then helps her little sister with the last bag.)

Me: “Thank you, girls!” *and then I thank the father*

(The father helped renew some of my faith in the future generations. Not only did the girls happily help, but they didn’t stare. They looked a little, but I wouldn’t expect anything less from younger kids. To the father: Thank you so much! I’m used to doing things on my own, but to be offered help when I’m obviously tired and struggling means so much to me, especially after waiting to see if I had things handled or was struggling. And the fact that you are raising your girls to be respectful to others is heartwarming.)

(I’m on the bus on the way to my hometown to visit my family and friends over Christmas. I’ve been on the bus all night. We’ve stopped at gas stations but this is our first stop at a place with hot food, and we still have 3 hours to go, and I’ve walked from the bus depot while it is about -40.)

Me: “Okay, can I get a coffee, and an egg and cheese breakfast sandwich, no meat? On debit, please.”

Cashier: “It says your card’s declined. Want to try again? Any cash?”

(No cash, and I try again, still no dice.)

Me: *tired, hungry and almost in tears* “Sorry, it didn’t work. Thank you anyway.”

Cashier: “Look, you know what honey? Take it.”

Me: “What?”

Cashier: “Take the sandwich, hon. You look like you need it right now. Just do one thing for me, OK?”

Me: “OK, what’s that?”

Cashier: “Pay it forward. Next time you see someone you can help, help ’em. And have a Merry Christmas.”

(Now that’s the holiday spirit for you. I keep her in mind whenever I see someone who needs help now.)

(I work a part-time job as a bagger at a grocery store and have recently moved into an apartment that I don’t quite make enough money to afford without using my savings. It’s my first time living alone and it has been very stressful. On top of that, the second job I applied to and was pinning my hopes on just contacted me to tell me I didn’t get the position. All told, I was having a bad day and feeling very down. Then two events happened during the same shift.)

(First Event:)

Me: *bagging groceries for an older lady, noticing a small snowman plushy* “Oh, he’s just so cute!”

Older Lady: “Isn’t he?”

(I continue to bag, playing a little with the very soft plushy the whole time. When it comes time to finish and bag the toy, I ask the lady a question.)

Me: “He’s just so adorable! I want to get one. Where were they located?”

Older Lady: “I got the last one. Here, I’ll give him to you as a Christmas present; you can have him. I only got him because I thought he was cute.”

(I protest, saying that I can’t do that to her, but she insists. Eventually, I accept, a bit overwhelmed that a stranger would give me a Christmas gift like this, on a day I am feeling so down.)

Old Lady: “Merry Christmas!”

Me: “Thank you! Merry Christmas!”

(Second Event:)

(I am called up to the front office by a manager and told that the head cashier, the boss of the front end, needs me for something in the computer room, the enclosed room where the money is counted, among other things. I go, expecting to be given a task. The lights are off in the room and my boss is there with another manager.)

Me: “I was told you wanted me for something?”

Boss: “Yes, that’s right. I have something for you. Merry Christmas!” *gestures*

(I look, and there is a miniature artificial Christmas tree, decorated and lighted up, sitting on the counter.)

Boss: “Now your apartment will have a tree!”

(Much hugging and thanking ensued. I’m truly blessed and amazed with my work family.)

(I work the morning shift in a bakery on Christmas Eve of 2014. I am pretty new, and it is overwhelming. There are hundreds of pre-orders, and most of the regular sale breads are gone within an hour. I’ve had to turn away several people who wanted Christmas breads at this point.)

Customer: “I’d like a loaf of cinnamon raisin bread.”

Me: “I’m sorry, ma’am, we’re sold out.”

Customer: “What do you mean?”

Me: “I mean we’ve sold all of the cinnamon raisin bread. I could recommend—”

Customer: “Well, it’s Christmas Eve. You should have baked more!”

Me: “Ma’am, all of our bakers were up all night baking extras–”

Customer: “This is ridiculous! I can see a loaf right there!”

Me: “Ma’am, that is a pre-ordered loaf. Some people have ordered weeks in advance and–”

Customer: “But I’m here now!”

Me: “But that bread was ordered by another person. Ma’am, I can recommend a different–”

Customer: “FORGET IT! YOU RUINED MY CHRISTMAS!”

(The customer storms away, and I’m left blinking in shock. The next customer is a kind elderly lady with a pre-order that happens to include cinnamon raisin bread. A few minutes later, the original customer has apparently gotten back in line and has reached my register.)

Customer: “Hey, why did that woman get bread!”

Me: “Ma’am, she pre-ordered last week–”

Customer: “But I was here first!”

Me: *heavy sigh*

(This went on for a minute or two until she declared I’d ruined her Christmas once more and stormed out for good.)

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It is just a little before Christmas, I’m outside pushing carts, when a coworker asks me to check a strange black garbage bag that had been sitting next to her car all day.

Not being 100% clear of the regulations regarding random black garbage bags, I open it up to find inside a large piece of machinery. After a few moments, I lift up something that is instantly identifiable as a sex toy, which makes me realize that I am in the presence of a much larger mechanical sex toy.

I looked at my watch and see that my shift is thankfully now up, go inside, clock out, and go home. I found out later that the two night supervisors had to take care of it.

I was having no part of that.