I took my elementary-aged son and his two hungry friends to a cafeteria within a store for lunch after church, because it’s really affordable and we are not all that comfortable financially.

How awful to load up our trays, get up to the register, and then find out my wallet was missing! Yet the cashier empathized with the situation and helped me think through some ideas for alternate payment.

I stood to the side to download a mobile payment app to my phone and get it set up, but it’s an old phone and there were tech problems. The cashier then offered to pay for the meal and have me reimburse her via a different payment app. So, I stood to the side again to download it, but because of my old phone and spotty data connection, this was taking a very long time.

I came so very close to panicking. Everything was loud, it got so hot in there, I was dizzy… The boys were jumping around and freaking me out, so I sent them on various “errands” to keep them busy. And then I remembered to breathe.

After several minutes of me working the app situation, the cashier called me back over to the register and handed me a receipt, telling me, “Here you go. It’s paid for. It’s on me. Enjoy your meal.” I was stunned by the generosity and sincerely thanked her! Reading the receipt, it looked like she actually paid for the meal personally vs. using a discount code or comping it.

The part of the story the cashier didn’t know is that my son’s two friends come from an insecure food situation at home. I try to invite them over for snacks and meals as often as possible. They hadn’t eaten yet, and this cafeteria meal with us was likely to be their only one today. My gratefulness for this cashier’s generosity went deeper than her simply saving me the embarrassment of a missing wallet. Her kindness ensured these boys had food for the day — literally.

After our meal, I went back to the registers to thank her again and find out if I could reimburse her now, as I’d finally gotten the app working on my phone. But she was gone, and the other workers weren’t sure of her name because she was new. I made sure to write to the company with everything I’ve shared here and tell them how awesome their cashier was to us.

(I am staying at a large — several hundred rooms — four-star hotel in central Berlin, co-organising a congress for over 800 people. Our crew, including technicians, artists, and the like, could very well be sixty-something people. We almost take over the entire hotel for four days because we have rented all of the conference rooms, and our boss has requested that we get breakfast served earlier than usual — 5:30 — so that we can get to work early preparing everything. Needless to say, we are known. I am twenty-five at the time. I’m my boss’s second-in-command, a translator and interpreter in a foreign country working for a crew that does not know the local language. Through this, I get to know almost all of the hotel staff and I am very much known, too, because whenever something needs doing or taking care of, I am the one to contact anybody else in the hotel, and vice-versa; whenever anyone from the hotel wants anything from us, they come to me. This is the last day, it’s three or four am, the congress is almost over, and the people are just dancing in the main congress hall. I see my boss asleep at the sound mixing table, so I figured I’m permitted to hit the sack myself. I take the long elevator ride and walk up to my room, only to find that my key card is not working. I find my way down to the reception. Mind you, it’s been a very long few days.)

Me: *very tired* “Hello. My card seems to not be working anymore. Could you recode it for me?”

Clerk: *definitely older than my father* “Certainly. What is your room number?”

Me: “Room [number].”

Clerk: “Here you go. Can I get you anything?”

(I pause. At first, I don’t say anything; I don’t move because I am so very tired. The clerk is very, very polite with me. I notice a shelf with memorabilia from Berlin. As is the usual case with hotels, they are all VERY pricey. I notice a small teddy bear costing 32 Euros, which is a small fortune for me at the time, but I want to bring home something nice.)

Me: “Yes. Could I see that little bear, please?”

Clerk: *hands me the bear* “Here you are.”

Me: *looking at the bear, then slowly* “I will take it. Please sell it to me. I will pay cash.”

(The clerk takes the teddy bear from my hands, looks at it, and looks at me, and I don’t know why, but he says:)

Clerk: “I’m giving it to you as a gift.”

Me: *almost too tired to be surprised* “Really? Thank you very much, sir. Have a good night.”

(I walked off, very much stunned. The staff at this hotel were always very, very helpful. I felt the clerk took pity on me because I was so beat up, and he really didn’t have to make that gesture, but he did.)

(I’m at work and feeling incredibly lousy. I went to the hospital last night for an ongoing migraine and in the mix of meds they gave me to help, Benadryl was one. This results in me being sluggish and tired, and on top of that, my head still hurts, so I’m not at the top of my game. I’ve been told today that I look like h***, too. An hour or so before closing, a family I went to school with comes in with their young son who is talking up a storm. He eventually walks past where I’m currently straightening up stock and says something that really lifts my spirits.)

Kid: “You’re really pretty, miss. I like you. You’re always nice to me.”

(This causes me to tear up a bit, and I turn to the parents.)

Me: “Can I hug your son?”

Mom: “Of course! Sweetie, the nice lady wants a hug.”

Kid: “But… you’re working. Won’t you get in trouble?”

Me: *in a sneaky voice* “Not if the boss doesn’t see.”

(He eagerly comes and gives me a hug, which I happily return.)

Me: *to him* “Thanks for your kind words, kiddo. You have no idea how much I needed that today.” *to parents* “You guys are doing an amazing job raising him. Thank you.”

(The parents thanked me in return and I got the kid a candy bar. I still felt horrible, but the kid’s words really helped my morale.)

(I’m standing in line behind a small girl and her parents. I’m Caucasian while they are of a much darker ethnicity, but this isn’t uncommon as my city is quite diverse.)

Little Girl: *looks over at me shocked* “What’s wrong with your hair?!”

Me: *panicked* “Wh-what’s wrong with it?”

Little Girl: “Why’s it such a weird colour?”

(I’m blonde, and this isn’t weird for my area at all, but I laugh realizing this little girl might not have a lot of exposure to blonde hair as some ethnic groups keep to themselves. The parents are flustered at their outspoken child.)

Me: *laughing* “It’s okay. I was born with it like this.”

Little Girl: “Oh…” *pauses, thinking for a moment, then tugs at me to whisper* “I like your hair. It’s really pretty!”

Me: *heart melting, whispers back* “I like yours, too! You’re awesome!”

(Kids are awesome.)

A few years ago, my two-year-old nephew was spending the night with us because the adults in his family were sick. He was perfectly happy playing with his cousins until bedtime, and then he fell apart crying. He didn’t want anybody neared him and just bawled.

My 12-year-old tabby cat came into the bedroom that my nephew was going to share with my older son. He took a look at the situation, hopped up on my nephew’s bed, and started purring, loudly. My nephew calmed down and quickly fell asleep. I checked in through the night to make sure that he was okay. That cat stayed with him all night.

Our kitty passed away last fall, and our favorite story is of how he babysat our nephew through the night.

This story is part of our Kitty roundup! This is the last story in the roundup, but we have plenty of others you might enjoy!

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