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!

Our 24-hour fast food restaurant is open on New Year’s Eve. We’re getting ready to work through midnight, when a coworker notices something in the tip jar we keep at the order station.

Coworker: “Oh my god!”

Me: “What is it?”

We all turn to see our coworker holding up a hundred-dollar bill, attached to a note that says:

Note: “For everyone who worked instead of partying.”

Coworker: “That’s awesome!”

Me: “That wasn’t there an hour ago.”

Coworker: “Who could it have been?”

Me: “I don’t know, but I want to wish them a happy new year!”

We tell our manager, who loves a mystery, and goes back through the camera footage.

Manager: “It’s hot chocolate guy.”

Me: “The guy that came in just for a small hot chocolate?”

Manager: “Yeah. It looks like he was waiting for you all to turn your backs to leave the tip. He just sat there, drinking his hot chocolate, then ran up to the jar to dump the money, and then ran out. If I didn’t know what was about to happen, I’d have thought he was gonna swipe the jar.”

Coworker: “Happy New Year to hot chocolate guy!

I’m starting my shift on the morning of New Year’s Eve. A woman approaches my checkout, and I start scanning her items. Then, she says:

Customer: “Do you remember me?”

Me: “I’m sorry, I don’t. I get a lot of customers.”

The customer smiles and shows me a carefully folded receipt from our store. It’s dated exactly one year ago, on last year’s New Year’s Eve. For a split second, I’m worried that this woman is about to ask for a refund on an item she bought last year, but then I notice a small written scrawl at the bottom of the receipt.

It’s my own handwriting.

Scrawl: “Cheering you on! I know you can do it!”

Suddenly, a memory comes rushing back into my brain.

Last year, I served a woman who was buying a lot of healthy items. She had been commenting about how she had received worrying news from her doctor that her health was being impacted by her diet, and she was at serious risk in the coming year if she didn’t change what she ate.

I remembered her looking worried and not feeling very hopeful for the year ahead. I remembered scrawling that little note on the receipt to provide what tiny encouragement I could.

This woman in front of me now is easily over a hundred pounds lighter than the woman I had served a year ago, but it is definitely the same woman.

Me: *Now beaming.* “Well… I guess you did it!”

Customer: “Yep! Clean bill of health from the doctor! Every day I felt tempted to fall into bad habits, I would look at your note. My family didn’t think I could do it, but I remembered that one cashier who believed in me, and I didn’t want to let her down.”

Me: “I… I don’t know what to say!”

Customer: “Nothing to say! I just wanted to let you know and wish you a happy New Year!”

I’m holding back tears as I scan her (still healthy) items. We have a little hug, and now she’s my weekly regular customer, sharing recipes on healthy food and such.  

This happened a few years ago. At the time, I’m a twenty-eight-year-old woman living in Germany, a country famous for its punctuality, orderliness… and not exactly for warm fuzzies. For reasons unknown to me, though, people often find me “adorable.” 

It’s not always helpful, especially professionally, but occasionally it comes with unexpected perks. Also worth noting: tipping here isn’t as common or expected as it is in the US; rounding up a bit is normal, but big tips are rare.

My boyfriend at the time and I are strolling through a Christmas market when I spot a cotton candy stall. The prices are listed clearly: the smallest size is €3, the largest €8.

Me: “Ooooh, cotton candy!”

Boyfriend: *Grinning.* “Would you maybe like a cotton candy?”

Me: *Enthusiastically.* “Yes, please!”

The vendor has clearly seen and heard our little exchange, because as we walk up, he’s beaming at me.

Vendor: “Hello there, sweetheart!”

In Germany, calling a grown woman “sweetheart” like this is not typical. At all. It’s something you’d say to a toddler or your significant other, not a random adult customer.

Me: *Playing along.* “Yes, please, mister!”

Vendor: “What size would you like? Like this?” *He holds his hands fairly close together.* “Or this?” *A bit further apart.*

Me: “Hmmm… like this, please!”

I hold my hands apart, signalling a reasonably large size. The vendor laughs and spreads his arms even wider.

Vendor: “You mean like this?”

His arms are now stretched as far apart as possible, like he’s about to give me a massive bear hug.

Me: *Laughing.* “Yes! That, please!”

Vendor: “Say no more.”

He proceeds to make the biggest cotton candy his machine can possibly handle, easily larger than the €8 option.

Vendor: *Handing it over with a flourish.* “Et voilà! That’ll be €3. Merry Christmas!”

My boyfriend, who’s been laughing the whole time, pulls out a €20 note.

Boyfriend: “Keep the change. A very merry Christmas to you, too!”