(I am shopping with my mom. I’m looking for the oatmeal that has dinosaur eggs in it that dissolve as you make the oatmeal. It has been out of stock locally for a few weeks. Today I see them!)
Me: “Mom, look! Dinosaurs! My favorite!” *grabs a box*
(I hear an indignant sniff to my left. I turn and see a tall, imposing woman in a business suit. I want to shrink into the ground.)
Business Lady: *grabs a box and grins* “They’re my favorite, too!”
(I work in a small post office in a rural area. It makes for a pretty relaxed atmosphere as and people tend to like talking too much about what they’re sending. This has led to some embarrassing oversharing before. This is my favourite interaction, though.)
Customer: “I’d like to send this first class. It’s cake samples for a wedding, so I don’t want it to take long.”
Me: “That’s nice. Oh, it’s still a little warm. Smells really good.”
Customer: “Thank you. Made them all fresh. I’ve got mint chocolate, red velvet, chocolate orange, and Victoria sponge.”
Me: *jokingly* “Well, if it doesn’t get there, you know I might have just eaten them. They sound tasty!”
(We share a laugh and finish the transaction. The next day:)
Customer: “Hello again. I had some leftover sample slices and thought you’d like them.”
Me: “Oh, wow. Thank you so much!”
(I shared the cake with my boss. They were delicious, and when it came time for my sister’s wedding, you can guess who made the cake.)
(One hot summer’s day, my college roommate and I decide we are in the mood for a frosty from Wendy’s. Neither of us has a car, so since it is nice out, we walk the mile and a half to get there. Unfortunately, the lobby is closed for renovations. Since there are no cars at the drive-thru, we walk up to the window to ask if there’s any way we can order there.)
Cashier: “Sorry, ladies, but we can’t take walk-up orders at the drive-thru for safety reasons.”
Roommate: “Bummer, after that long walk. Thanks, anyway!” *we turn to leave*
Cashier: “Hold on a sec.” *looks around furtively* “Here.” *hands me his keys* “My car is right there; just pull through real quick.”
(And so we did! The frosties were delicious! We are forever grateful to you, kind cashier!)
I volunteer with an animal rescue organization founded by my mentor and best friend. Today, we were at an adoption event hosted by a large pet supply store. Most adoptions need an application, vet references, and time. However, my mentor told me that sometimes you just know it’s going to work out.
We had a young black dog with a white chest stripe. Like most black dogs, unfortunately, there hadn’t been much interest in him. A few applications had been submitted, but the people seemed to be inconvenienced so that they couldn’t get another dog. It’s hard to explain — you had to be there. One lady said, “Call me if you find another dog first.” We had fun shredding her paperwork.
About an hour before closing, a young African American couple came in and fell in love with him. They told us they were newlyweds and decided their wedding gift to each other was to adopt a dog. Our pup loved them, and my mentor took their application and let them go home with a happy, loved dog. We watched as a store employee took them around to buy supplies. They bought a harness and the employee instructed them how to make sure it wasn’t too tight or loose. They were so loving and attentive and let the pup pick out some toys and treats. As they were leaving, they stopped and thanked us again. The husband hugged the pup and happily announced how much their “new son” looked like them! We all had a good laugh and wished them well.
“And that,” my mentor said, “is how you know.”
This story is part of our Animal Shelter Roundup!
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During one of my summer breaks while attending college, I take a job as a summer camp counselor. Part of our weekly program involves performing a short play near the end of the week, and I volunteer to be one of the main characters. All goes well until I catch a bad cold. All the coughing I end up doing hurts my throat and makes my voice sound gravelly. I thankfully am not assigned a group of kids that week, but I don’t have anyone to replace me in the play. I rest my voice up as best I can, and even find a funny in-character reason to explain the way I sound. It works, right up until I have to sing a small solo. When I try to sing, absolutely no sound comes out of my mouth. I start to panic a bit, but the other counselors are quick to pick up on what is happening.
Every counselor in the audience knows this song, because of how much they’ve seen the play. So, when my voice fails me, the song only gets a couple bars in before the counselors all start singing my part for me! They don’t hesitate to cover the other bits of singing my character does, either. I swear it’s something straight out of a feel-good high school movie! Ten years later, and thinking about it still makes me feel warm and fuzzy inside.
