At the time of this story, we’re having an unusually heavy snowfall in the Netherlands. Other countries will probably laugh at the amount of snow, but here ‘the country is on its bum’, as we say.

Public transportation is down, trash no longer gets collected (narrow streets + big truck = disaster), people can’t go to work because the roads are white and the snow ploughs can’t keep up. The trash companies actually let their truck drivers drive snow ploughs or trucks that spread salt because they are used to heavy trucks.

My company rents out Social Housing. Because of the amount of snow, we are forced to work from home. Many can, and some technicians are on ’emergency repairs’ duty. If there’s an emergency, our technicians will brave the white outside, but it may take a bit longer than usual. And because we all care about our coworkers outside, we customer service people make sure it is indeed an emergency.

A Lot Of Callers: “I have an appointment for today; how late will the technician be here?”

Most Of Our Responses: “Unfortunately, they won’t make it. I see we tried to call you for rescheduling, but no one answered the phone.”

Insert reason why they didn’t pick up and understanding customer… great! Rescheduled!

The Occasional Client: “What?! But I waited for weeks for this appointment! This is unacceptable!”

In reality, it was days.

Me: “I understand your response, but there is a national weather alert.”

The Occasional Client: “I know, I can’t go anywhere!”

Me: “And our technicians are in the same boat.”

The Occasional Client: “Well… this is an emergency! Surely you have an emergency protocol!”

Me: “We do, but unfortunately, hanging up a shelf is not an emergency.”

The Occasional Client: “It is an emergency!”

Me: “So you say you need to leave the house and can no longer stay in your house because of this?”

The Occasional Client: “Leave the house?! Have you seen the weather?!”

Me: “So you can stay in the house?”

The Occasional Client: “I can’t go anywhere!”

Me: “So that means it’s not an emergency, right?”

This usually shuts them up. However, one call went differently:

Client: “My faucet is leaking.”

Me: “I am so sorry to hear that. I have a plumber available in two days, assuming the weather will be better.”

Client: “Yes… but my faucet is leaking.”

Older client, repeating himself… maybe hard of hearing? I repeat the offer. Same response. I repeat the offer in different words. Same response.

Me: “All right… can you put a bucket underneath it?”

Client: “Will that stop the leak?

Okay, red flags. I put the client on hold and call the planner.

Me: “Hey, I have [Address], and the man has a leaky faucet… but my belly—” *onderbuikgevoel* “—is nagging. Something is off. No matter what I try, he doesn’t answer my questions, only repeats… He is in his eighties, so…”

Planner: “You wouldn’t call if you weren’t worried. You’re in luck, I have a guy working two streets away. I’ll ask him to check it out. Might take a while, though.”

Me: “Thanks.”

I return to the client and thank him for waiting. No response. I shout (working from home all alone does have advantages), no response. I hear no movement… nothing. I return to the planner, letting him know there’s no sound whatsoever anymore.

The planner says he’ll take over from me, considering the wait line. Through chat, he lets me know that calling the client was of no use; no one picked up.

You probably all share my worry, so I won’t stall any longer: all was fine.

The technician went over, the older gentleman opened the door, and all was well. The older gentleman managed to grab a pan and put it under the leaky faucet… and promptly forgot about the phone. He was indeed hard of hearing, so when he was in another room, he did not hear the calls.

He did not seem confused or anything else worrisome, but our ‘outside housing manager’ (who walks around the area to check on houses, gardens, illegal dumping, and people we worry about) decided to visit the client when the snow was mostly gone. Again, nothing worrisome, but my coworker will check on him regularly just in case.

To the technician who braved the white world because of a leaky faucet… You are a hero!

I live in the only real “city” in a pretty rural area, so our big shopping mall tends to attract families who come in from nearby villages for their big stock-up trips a couple of times a year. This was back when self-checkouts were still a novelty, but our mall’s grocery store already had a few. 

I’m using one when the machine next to me frees up. A trio swoops in: a grandmother, a mother, and a little girl who’s maybe four, all clearly on an Exciting Family Shopping Adventure. Their cart is packed.

They poke at the touchscreen for a bit until they get the hang of it, and then Grandma starts scanning. After every single item, Grandma leans in and makes the most enthusiastic little “Beep!” sound.

After a minute, Mum suddenly asks:

Mum: “Mum, can I do the beep, too? I’ve always wanted to do that since I was a kid!”

Grandma bursts out laughing and says:

Grandma: “Of course! It’s fun, isn’t it? I always wanted to do it, too!”

So now both of them are doing dramatic, delighted BEEPs with every item, and the little girl gets her turn as well, with some help from her mother. They’re absolutely thrilled, and honestly? It was adorable.

The attendant monitoring the self-checkout eventually walks over, smiling so hard I thought her face might crack, and gives them a small discount.

Attendant: “Because you ladies just made my whole shift.”

Yesterday, I had a rare interaction at a grocery store.

I had gone to get several things and went through the register with very little wait. I got out to my car and realized I had forgotten a couple of small things. I went back inside and went to the aisle where they were located, but didn’t see exactly what I was looking for. 

I spent about five minutes deciding on what to get instead and headed to the registers. There were several open, and none of them seemed to have more than one customer, but every customer had a lot of items. I hate self-checkout, so I finally picked one where the customer seemed to have the fewest items.

I got in line and noticed they were a young family: Dad, Mom, toddler, and baby in a sling across Dad’s chest. They were still unloading their cart when Dad looked at me and saw that I didn’t seem to have much.

Dad: “Do you have many items?”

I showed him what I had, and he said:

Dad: “You know you can use the self-checkout rather than waiting.”

I kind of resented that he seemed to think I didn’t know that.

Me: “I hate self-checkout.”

He then looked at the Mom, then back at me, and picked up my two items and handed them to the cashier, who rang them up and put them in a bag.

Dad: “So you don’t have to wait for us, today your things are on me.”

I tried to thank him, but he was too busy with his family to pay attention, so I left. My total was less than $6, I think, but I was very grateful to this young family. I will look for an opportunity to pass it on in the near future. Maybe I will even do it more than once.

I work at one of the busiest stores in the state for a very big coffee chain. It’s always packed, but our regulars are the best.

One day, a guy in the lobby gets heated, something about whipped cream, one of those tiny things we could have fixed in a heartbeat. His voice carries across the café.

Before I can step in, one of our regulars in the drive-thru (a police officer who usually comes by in her squad car) happens to be off duty but still in uniform. She hears the noise, parks her car, and walks straight inside, not even waiting for her drink.

She doesn’t have to say a word. The man eventually calms down and leaves on his own.

Afterward, we try to give her a drink for free, just as a thank-you for looking out for us. She shakes her head, pays in full, and drops a $20 bill into the tip jar instead.

I know the cops around here don’t make a huge amount of money, but there’s just a weird (and awesome) bond we have with our regulars.

Last season, I was working at a little winter gear shop in a ski town, one of those places where everything from snowboards to mittens is stacked to the ceiling. 

One snowy Saturday, a couple came in with their two kids. The kids went straight for the helmets and ski boots, eagerly pulling their parents around, begging to try on every single item.

While the mom was distracted, the dad came up to me, casting a quick look over his shoulder. With a grin, he whispered:

Husband: “Don’t let my wife see, I’ve been eyeing this hat for weeks.”

He slipped me €30, and I rang him up, casually chatting about the powder forecast as I tucked the beanie into his bag.

Just as he finished, his wife approached, wrangling the kids. She made her way over to the same rack of hats and leaned over the counter with a knowing smile.

Wife: “Don’t let my husband see, but he’s been needing this hat.”

She handed me the cash, winked, and went back to gathering up their gear. 

They left with a little secret smile on each of their faces, and I knew they’d just bought each other the same hat!