(I work in a call centre that’s open 24 hours a day, 365 days a year. We’ve just experienced a huge snow storm, which is completely out of the ordinary for Ireland, and the call centre had to close for two days. When we reopen, it is incredibly busy, and customers are furious at how long it is taking to get through. Then, I get this lady.)

Me: “Hello, you’re through to customer services. This is [My Name] speaking. Apologies for the long wait, and thank you for holding. How can I help you?”

Customer: “Hi! How are you?”

Me: “I’m good, thank you. How are you?”

Customer: “Oh, don’t worry about me. You’re obviously very busy today.”

Me: “Yes, I do apologise about that. We’re just experiencing a backlog after being closed because of the snow. I can log a complaint for you, if you wish?”

Customer: “Oh no, no, no. I used to work in a call centre myself. Tell me, what’s your target handling time for calls?”

Me: *confused* “Um, five minutes?”

Customer: “Okay, so I’ve been speaking to you for just under a minute. That means I can continue to talk to you for four minutes without ruining your stats.”

Me: “Okay. And what can I help you with today?”

Customer: “Oh, nothing at all. I just know how awful the customers must be treating you today, so I wanted to ring and have a friendly chat so your day isn’t all bad. I’m ringing the call centres of any suppliers I use and doing the same thing. You shouldn’t be shouted at all day because it snowed.”

(She genuinely had no query, and just filled the next few minutes with idle chit-chat. She just wanted at least one person to get a nice call on what was an otherwise awful day. We were so busy that she must have waited nearly an hour just to be nice to someone for five minutes!)

(I have just finished ringing up a customer I’d been working with for about half an hour. She was in quite a hurry as she had a formal event that night and was going right from the store to her hair appointment. She had just left to run to the restroom before leaving, so I am surprised when she comes to find me a few minutes later.)

Customer: “I was just in the restroom and realized I didn’t have my bag. I don’t remember ever having it.”

(We look all around the department before the customer says she has to go. I get her information so I can get back in touch with her. I call security, and she saw on the camera where I’d given the customer her bag, but we stopped to look at some lipsticks a little ways away, and the camera couldn’t see us. I asked the customer service manager what to do.)

Me: “Can I grab her three products and get them to her? If we find her bag, we can just put them back, and if not, we can do an inventory adjustment.” *we are quite well-known for our customer service, so this is not an outrageous request*

Manager: “That’s really up to you. If you think she’s on the up-and-up, then go for it. You’ll probably get a customer for life out of it.”

Me: “I totally believe her. I’m pretty sure someone accidentally picked up her bag, because it was so busy and there were a lot of people around.”

(I quickly grabbed the three products the customer had purchased and was filling out a form so I could deliver them to her house when my coworker came and got me.)

Coworker: “Hey, a customer just called and said she picked up someone else’s bag by mistake. It had some [Brand] in it. Did you sell that to someone?”

Me: “Yes! I’m just about to deliver some replacements to that customer.”

Coworker: “Well, this lady said she’d bring the bag back tonight.”

(I got to take care of my customer, who was totally sweet and wanted to pay for the replacements I brought her because she didn’t want me to get in trouble. And the other customer brought the bag back with all of the items in it. Faith in humanity: restored. For the time being…)

Almost exactly ten years ago, when I was a University student, I struggled badly with depression. It reached its worst when, over the course of about a month, I started to struggle with my course, began having financial difficulties and housing issues, and found out that my girlfriend had been cheating on me for months. It got bad enough that I tried to take my own life.

One night I walked to the edge of town where there was a bridge that crossed over a railway line. I sat down on the edge of the bridge with the intention of jumping in front of the next train that passed underneath me.

Some time after I got there, I saw a man approaching where I was sitting. He very calmly sat down next to me on the edge of the bridge and all he said to me was, “If you want to talk, I’ll be here all night.”

True to his word, he was there all night. I think it must have been somewhere around three or four hours before I could bring myself to say anything, and as soon as I started talking I absolutely broke down, crying so hard that I could hardly breathe, almost unable to get any words out at all, but this man kept sitting there, not pressuring me into talking, not trying to make me move away from the edge, just being there so I didn’t feel alone.

After a while of this, I remember him speaking up again, although I have no recollection of what he said. What I do remember is getting up and walking away from the edge of the bridge, and this man draping his coat over my shoulders and waiting there with me for an ambulance to arrive to take me to hospital. The last thing I remember is him giving me a hug and saying something like, “I hope things get better for you from here,” and that was that; I got in the ambulance and he went on his way.

Ten years later, I’ve gone on to finish my degree, travel the world, meet the love of my life, and get married, Now I have my first child on the way. I have never forgotten what that man did for me. He saw a stranger in need, and when he could so easily have walked on and ignored it, he chose to give up an entire night of his life to give what support and comfort he could, and if it wasn’t for his actions I wouldn’t be here today.

I never saw him again after that, but I still have his coat. It hangs at the front of my wardrobe, and every single day I see it and it reminds me that there are some truly good people in this world.

My dad was travelling from the Netherlands to France, by public transportation. He was going to join my mother there, who went a few weeks earlier. His trip should’ve gone like this: Tram, Train 1, Train 2 (Thalys – a French-Belgian high-speed train operator), Metros/Subway, Train 3 (TGV), Train 4 (local train), walking a bit, Ferry,  and then hello, Mom! He had done this trip for several years and this was most likely the last time he would have to make this trip.

This is how his trip went:

The tram had some scheduled maintenance, which they mentioned only a week before. They arranged a bus, but there would be delays. Dad decided to take a bus earlier than planned, just in case. He arrived in time for Train 1.

Train 1 had no delays and my dad got on the Thalys, arriving on time. The Metro was going fine, as well. Then, he got aboard his TGV (Train 2).

The TGV decided to leave one hour later than planned. No one bothered to give the passengers information, so it is unclear why. Dad realised it was going to be tight with the last ferry. On-board personnel assured him he would make it.

The next train, the local one, however, suddenly decided to have 30 minutes of delay, as well! The train personnel and an English lady — who spoke fluent French — realised it would be impossible to get my dad on that last ferry. Dad already resigned to the idea having to look for a local hotel, in a country where he didn’t speak much of the language. Maybe these people could help him find a hotel?

The train personnel called their head office, while the English lady translated. No, there would be no compensation possible, because he was going to arrive at the station and it was not their problem he will miss his ferry. The train personnel and the lady, however, both didn’t accept that answer of the head office. Some fast and “wild” French was spoken. Suddenly, the train conductor and the English lady came to my dad.

The lady explained that they would be reaching a town within a few minutes. He would have to get off there, but they had arranged a taxi, free of charge.

My dad realised that this town was about two hours away, but the lady told him not to worry, and that he’d make it.

At the town, my dad was all but thrown off the train and into the taxi. The car left immediately. Dad checked the speed of the car, and after the fourth traffic law was broken, he decided to pray that the insane driving of the taxi driver wouldn’t cause an accident.

When they reached the town of the ferry, they saw a lot of local cars in a jam. The taxi driver said they all had to get on the ferry, so not to worry! He passed them all and dropped off my dad as close as he could get, which was all but inside the ticket office.

The taxi driver helped get my dad his things, and they hurried to the ticket office. My dad didn’t have the time to properly thank the taxi driver. The ticket office employee told my dad he had made it with ten minutes to spare!

The employee also told him that because of the many people who still needed to take a ferry, they’d only just decided they would put in an extra ferry. So, even if my dad had missed the ferry, he would still have been able to go to my mom.

My dad messaged my mom, and she hopped into the car and hurried to the ferry own — without speeding and breaking laws. My dad arrived 30 minutes before she did. They were now reunited.

Dad did manage to push out thank-yous to the people who helped him, even though they were hurried ones. Thanks to the train personnel who wouldn’t take “no” from their bosses, the English lady, and the taxi driver, my dad safely reached his destination.

Until I met my husband — a much more jaded person than I — my attitude when encountering a street person begging was: If they need it so much they’re begging for it, then they’re in a worse position than I am, and I’ll give it to them. I don’t care if it makes me a sucker, and I don’t care what they use it for.

I will never forget one birthday with him. At my request we went to a vegan restaurant in Portland, Oregon, where I was prepared to be dazzled by the food. I am a vegetarian; he is not.

It turned out to be not all that. The food was really greasy, and I couldn’t understand why it was so freaking popular, but we boxed up the expensive leftovers to go and headed back home.

We knew there would be a lot of street people on our way home, and hatched a plan to give the leftovers away, hopefully to salvage what was left of my birthday by doing something good, at least. But we didn’t see anybody begging for food in Oregon, and when we crossed over the border back to Washington, we were keeping a watchful eye out.

Finally, on one street corner, there was an apparently homeless teenager looking for handouts. We approached him and offered him the leftovers. He looked a bit wary and sad when he said, “I’m a vegetarian.” (For anyone who’s not a vegetarian, that may sound petty; like, “Well, if you’re hungry enough, you’ll eat it!” But as a nearly lifelong vegetarian myself, I can tell you: No, we won’t.)

I couldn’t believe my luck when I heard that. I told him, “It’s from [Restaurant]. It’s vegan!” I felt like the Universe had ordained this entire incident, and in our rear-view mirror we could see him eating out of the box as he walked away.