I have worked over two years for a well-known UK supermarket delivering groceries to customers at home. Over these last two years, I’ve gone from positive and energetic about my job to somewhat sad and jaded. This does not mean I don’t do my best work; it just means that I have lost a lot of enthusiasm for the work itself and the good bits are outweighed by the bad bits now.

But today was a good day. First off, I want to say that if you are getting a grocery delivery, generally, keeping your pets locked away is helpful, since not everyone likes cats and dogs and may even have allergies. But I love cats and dogs, and I don’t have allergies!

My third delivery of the morning came with instructions, “We have dogs and cats; they are friendly.” I greeted the customer, who invited me inside, and the dogs came rushing up past their owner to greet the strange new human in their home. There were tails wagging and lots of excited pants. I greeted the dogs enthusiastically. The customer even invited me to stay for a few minutes to play with the dogs, and the cats, who, after a few minutes, decided to come and see what the fuss was about. In short, I was in fluffy heaven for five awesome minutes.

My run of good lucked followed with a later customer giving me a free latte. Another customer with pets that were happy to see me even gave me a generous tip for my work. Fun fact: the best tippers are always American. So, while I think I’m on the way out of this particular job, today reminded me that there are some really good aspects of my job!

(I am a volunteer at a no-kill pet shelter. A few weeks ago, a couple came in with the angriest cat we had ever seen. Along with a severe case of mange, he was also missing his right eye. The couple explained that their neighbors had moved and left the cat locked inside a junker car parked behind their house. Even with every volunteer working to rehabilitate him, “One-Eyed Willy” proves to be a difficult case; he bites and scratches, yowls constantly, and does not get along with other male cats. We resign to having him as a permanent resident. One week, I arrive to find that One-Eyed Willy is missing from the cat room. A fellow volunteer explains that he’s been adopted over the weekend. The general consensus is that he has been taken in as a charity case and will be returned when the new owner finds him too difficult to handle. Terrified that whoever this person is will ruin a month of hard work, I can do nothing but wait until they return for his neutering appointment in two weeks. I am working the front desk when a young woman approaches me. She does not have a kennel, but has a cat tucked into her jacket.)

Woman: “Hi! I’m here to drop off Creampuff for his appointment?”

(As any adopted cats are referred to by their new names, it takes me a second to realize that she’s holding One-Eyed Willy! He is purring up a storm, curled up in her arms like a baby. While we go over the paperwork, I notice that he is wearing a hand-knit vest to cover his mange spots. With my heart already melting, I get talking to her.)

Me: “So, has he been behaving himself?”

Woman: “Oh, he’s the best cat in the world! I have a teensy bit of trouble sometimes when I need to go to the store, though.”

(She unzips her jacket and sets One-Eyed Willy on the counter. Immediately, he begins to whine like a baby. She picks him up and he stops.)

Woman: *while giggling and smothering him in kisses* “It’s a good thing I work from home, or I’d be evicted!”

(It isn’t easy working at a shelter, but times like this make it all worth it!)

(When I am seven and a half months pregnant, my husband passes away suddenly of an undiagnosed heart condition. I have no other family, just some close friends. Things have been tough emotionally and financially. Christmas Eve, I’m buying just essentials — nappies, formula, bread, etc. — but nothing you would class as festive. While waiting in a very long line at the checkout, my six-month-old daughter starts to fuss. A guy in his 50s is behind me and starts making funny faces, causing my daughter to stop crying and laugh, instead. As we get near to the belt, he turns to the lady behind him and says he forgot something and asks if he can run to grab it. She agrees to hold his spot in line. He comes back with a gift card and a box of chocolates in addition to the groceries already in his basket. Once I’m ready to pay, he steps forward.)

Gentleman: “Wait. Please add my things and put $100 on the gift card. I’ll pay for it.”

Me: “Thank you, sir, but that’s okay.”

Gentleman: “Please, I’d like to. Call it an early Christmas present.”

(The cashier rings up his things, as well. The total comes close to $250, with my stuff close to $100. I’m now in tears.)

Me: “Thank you so much. I’ve had a really hard year and this means everything to me. I don’t know how to thank you.”

(He takes out the box of chocolates and gift card and hands them to me, as well.)

Gentleman: “The world could do with more kindness. Not enough people care about others. Take these and enjoy your Christmas with your gorgeous daughter. Things will get better. Merry Christmas, and I hope 2019 is a better year for you.”

(Before I could say anything else, he walked away. Not only was I in tears, but so were the cashier and the lady behind me in line. I was really speechless as I’d heard about things like this but had never witnessed it, let alone had it happen to me. To the gentleman who did this, I really hope you’re reading this. Thank you for your generosity. You made an extremely difficult time of year and a really crappy year so much better. I hope, in times to come, I will be in a position to pay it forward.)

I’m a customer in a pharmacy in Berlin, behind an older man. I don’t speak German as I’m just a tourist, but he is very obviously driving the cashier crazy, pointing to everything five times and asking the price, wasting her time by debating the price, raising his voice, and flailing his arms about. Even though I can’t understand a word he is saying, his rudeness is clear! The cashier is doing a great job of staying calm, but he is visibly upsetting her.

When he finally leaves — some five minutes later, only having purchased one thing — I approach the register, smile, and roll my eyes. As she serves me, she chats away about the customer — made obvious from the things she points to while talking — and it’s clear from the relief on her face that she just needs to unload on someone who understands. I smile and nod and laugh when she laughs, and say, “Ja,” a couple of times, and she seems much calmer and happy by the end of the transaction.

Dear cashier, even though I didn’t understand a word you said, our conversation was wonderful and friendly; we both speak the universal language of “hating bad customers”!

A few years ago I was working at a dealership for a manufacturer that produces notoriously terrible cars. Our service department was open on Christmas Eve, though with shorter hours than normal. I was hoping to get out a bit extra-early — which I did! — we booked light, but of course, we kept hoping that unexpected cars wouldn’t show up. Around noon, a car without an appointment pulled into the driveway, and when I saw who was getting out I thought, “Crap! Why is she here?”

She was a customer I knew well: an older Russian lady who was perfectly nice, but paranoid and oversensitive about her car. We’d had quite a few occurrences of her coming for “symptoms” that were not, in fact, actual issues but just the normal operation of a crappy sort of car. Helping her also tended to be rather time-consuming as English was not her first language. I was dreading finding out why she had pulled in.

She came to bring me a box of chocolates and thank me for being so helpful to her over the past year, taking the time to explain her car’s idiosyncrasies and make her feel safe driving it. She said she knew she could be difficult, but that she really appreciated knowing that I was there to help her out and keep her mind at ease.

The gesture had a big impact: I’d been getting jaded, but she really helped me remember why I love my job, and how even the frustrating moments can be part of a rosier big picture. I continued to work with her, but dreaded seeing her far less as I was able to remember how our visits could be rewarding for both her and me. A year and a half later, when her lease ended and she turned the car in, she brought me her favorite snack from her home country, gave me a big tearful hug, and told me if the car wasn’t so terrible she would’ve bought out the lease so she could keep coming to see me for service. I don’t know what she’s driving now, but I hope it’s taking good care of her!

Related:
Driving Home The Kindness, Part 14
Driving Home The Kindness, Part 13
Driving Home The Kindness, Part 12