(My mom comes home for the grocery store and suddenly I hear her swear. Among other things, she bought a bottle of all-purpose cleaner which happens to have a leak. The groceries in the bag are soaked in a soapy mess, but to our horror, so is her brand new smartphone. Needless to say, the phone is beyond saving. The next day she goes back to the store. She doesn’t want to make a fuss over it, but she mentions it to the cashier, thinking maybe the store can do something, like make sure their items aren’t broken.)

Cashier: “I’m am so sorry that happened! Phones are expensive as it is… You know what? I am going to check if our insurance covers things like these. Let me get a manager.”

(The manager comes over, and apologises again and again for the broken phone. My mom never makes a big deal out of stuff getting broken, so she’s not demanding any compensation or anything, but the manager still seems willing to go all the extra miles to get her compensated. Mom eventually comes home with a bouquet of flowers.)

Me: “Wow! Where did you get those?”

Mom: “The manager insisted on compensating me somehow, and suddenly he shoved this bouquet in my hands, as an apology. They even offered to repay my groceries! I said to them, ‘I only had to go back to replace the green beans, you are not going to repay me the 70 cents I paid for that!’ But maybe I can get money back from their insurance.”

(The cashier even called us later on to keep us updated, telling us that the claim was being sent to their insurance company. I understand there are stores that like to keep their customers happy, but flowers and an insurance claim over a broken phone caused by a leaking product? Not that I’m complaining, though.)

I had to start fifth grade in a new school in a new city. My new school was six times bigger than my old school, and it was overwhelming. My mother had left an abusive situation that spring, and we had to start all over with no support. We only moved to the area a few weeks before classes started, and with very little money for necessities, let alone anything else, I went to school with a nearly empty backpack and a promise that she’d get my supplies as soon as she could.

A couple of weeks passed, and it must have become obvious that my mother was not going to be able to provide all of my supplies in a timely manner. Meanwhile, homework was starting to be due, and I was running out of what little I had. One day I opened my desk to see a couple of cute notebooks — with pink paper! — some name-brand colored pencils, and other basic supplies. I found out that my teacher and the teacher’s aide had quietly taken it upon themselves to buy what I needed.

After that year, we moved halfway across the country and I’ve never been able to find that teacher online to tell her how things turned out. It’s been several years now. I have a college degree, a family of my own, and the finances to pay it forward, which I do any chance I get. I will always remember that act of kindness.

The town I am working in is known as a resort town because it is close to a river. We have what is known as River Season, meaning we have a lot of people from out of town. I work in a grocery store.

My manager is doing count in the cash office, leaving me with my 17-year-old coworker to man the registers and sales floor. It’s close to closing, and we have a small supply of alcohol. A couple come in and purchase a few things. As they are checking out, the man says to me, “I am really sorry, but I broke some beer over there.” I tell him it happens and that as long as no one is hurt, it’s not a huge deal. They leave, and my manager is back, so I go to clean the mess.

By the time I am done, we are closed. I get back to my register, and under my drink is an envelope. Inside is $40 and a note that says, “We have been coming here for six years, and no cashier has had such a good attitude about something like that. Buy yourself something as awesome as your attitude.”

(My mom volunteers to collect food for a national charity. She is at the entrance of a local supermarket handing out papers asking people for food to be offered to people with low income during winter, and collecting whatever customers are willing to give away to them. Most customers either give away canned food, or just ignore them.)

Child: *to his dad* “Daddy, what’s this? *points at my mom*

Customer: “Shush! That’s for tramps and hobos, ignore them!” *pulls him in the store*

(My mom and the other volunteers are a bit taken aback, but they don’t think anything of it and the day continues. In the middle of the afternoon, an old lady pays for her purchases, and notices my mom and the charity collection.)

Old Lady: “Oh.”

(My mom watches as she slowly makes her way out into the parking lot with a small bag of purchases in one hand and her cane in the other. My mom then goes back to handing out paper and collecting food. A few hours later, my mom notices the same old lady, slowly making her way back into the store, this time with a shopping cart.)

Old Lady: “Thank you.” *takes paper and goes back in browsing shelves*

(One whole hour later, she goes to the cash register for her new purchases, struggling to push her shopping cart full of groceries. She pays, slowly pushes her full shopping cart towards my mom, and stops it at the charity’s stand.)

Old Lady: “Here you go.”

(The charity volunteers all thanked her a lot. Turns out that, despite her age and the fact she didn’t own a car, she did her best walking back home to put her groceries to her fridge, and walked back to the store only to donate a cart full of groceries for charity. One of the volunteers offered her a ride home, which she said she didn’t need. Thank you, unknown lady.)

(I am working for Concern, a very well-known charity in Ireland that focuses on famine relief and aid for developing countries. I go from door to door, asking people to sign up for a small monthly donation. It’s quite a gruelling job; I have a list of a hundred doors to knock on in a day, and am only expected to sign up two or three people. The rest will all be no-answers or refusals, sometimes very unpleasant refusals. I’m at the end of a long, tiring day of knocking on doors and giving my pitch over and over. I genuinely care about the work our charity does, but when you’ve said a thing dozens of times in a day it’s hard not to sound like a robot, and though I never resent a simple refusal, some people really are shockingly rude about it. I approach one of the last houses on my round, trying to pluck up my energy, and knock on the door. A slightly scruffy-looking young man in his late twenties opens the door and I start my spiel. He holds up his hand to stop me and I’m expecting a refusal, just hoping he’ll be polite and won’t shout at me.)

Guy: “Yeah, it’s okay. I’ve been expecting you guys; I saw you going around the neighbourhood earlier. Come on in.”

(Surprised, I follow him into his kitchen.)

Guy: “Here, sit down and show me how to sign up. Oh, do you want a beer?”

Me: “I… uh… Thank you so much, but I don’t think I’m allowed to drink beer while I’m working. So, you’d… like to sign up?”

Guy: “Yeah, sure. I know about what your charity does already. How much would you like?”

Me: *not believing how easy this is* “Well, the minimum is €11 a month, but if you could manage to make it €21 a month or over, the charity gets an extra tax break from the government, which would increase the value of your donation to us.”

Guy: “Let’s round it up to €25 a month, then.”

Me: “Wow, thank you!”

(I start walking him through the donation forms.)

Me: “You know, I’ve never actually met anyone who had already decided to sign up before I came to their door!”

Guy: *nonchalantly* “Yeah, well, I’m already signed up to twelve others, so…”

Me: “Twelve?! I have to ask, is this okay for you financially? We don’t want anyone to feel pressured to do more than they can.”

Guy: “Don’t worry; it’s no problem. I came into quite a lot of money recently, and I’ve enjoyed donating to charities ever since. I like to spread it around to lots of different organizations rather than giving a lump to just one, you know?”

(We finish up the forms and I go to leave, thanking him profusely all the time. He caps everything by saying:)

Guy: “No, thank you for coming around today. I might have forgotten to include your charity if you hadn’t come to the door. Keep up the good work.”

(I was so touched I nearly cried. I hope that if I ever get rich, I’ll enjoy generosity as much as that guy did. For now, I just do what I can, and try to remember how much pleasure there can be in giving.)