(I am a 22-year-old woman, so waiting tables at a diner/pub I get a fair number of guys who think they’re charming being pushy or creepy to me. On this day, a clearly drunk guy (at 11 am on a Sunday, classy) in his forties is drinking at the bar and is being particularly icky. Leering, commenting on my looks, “negging,” asking personal questions, trying to brush against me when I walk by, the works. Usually I can get a coworker to help me out in these situations but the only other person working the area doesn’t think it’s a problem. I bring a young couple their brunch a few tables away, dodging yet another comment from the guy at the bar. I am flustered because of him.)

Me: “Here you go, folks. Anything else you need?”

Female Customer: *politely* “Yeah, could we maybe get some forks?”

(Of course I should have brought them silverware but I forgot because of the guy at the bar.)

Me: “Of course, ma’am, I’m so sorry about that. Just one moment.”

(I go back to get them, which unfortunately means I have to pass by the guy at the bar twice in a row, leading him to comment that I’m trying to get close to him and him touching my back as I retreat back to the couple.)

Me: “Here you are. Again, I apologize.”

Female Customer: “That’s okay.” *quietly* “Are you okay?”

Me: “Pardon me, ma’am?”

Female Customer: “Are you okay? That guy seems kind of, uh, gross.”

Male Customer: “Yeah, he’s really relentless.”

Me: “Oh, it’s fine.”

Female Customer: *giving me a knowing look* “IS it?”

Me: *my professional veneer is starting to crack because they’re being so nice* “Well, no. He’s awful. But I can handle it.”

Male Customer: “Are you sure? I could come sit up at the bar to give you a buffer if you like? Or if your manager is here I could ask them to get the creep out of here?”

(I know from experience that the manager on duty would not handle this interaction well.)

Me: “That’s very kind of you, but I wouldn’t ask you to do that.”

Female Customer: “I think that maybe we would prefer to eat at the bar. What do you think, honey?”

Male Customer: “I’d like that too. Would you object to that, ma’am?”

Me: *glancing back over at the guy at the bar, who is leering again* “No, sir. I would not object.”

(They took their meals up and Male Customer (who was quite tall and imposing) sat next to the creep. Just them being there made the creep shut up, and he left soon after, sulking. They chatted to me for the rest of their meal, and when they left they tipped me 50%.)

(I am a server at a fairly laid back burger diner. I am in the middle of a Saturday night shift when I get a two top, a couple no older than myself. I’m 27.)

Me: “Heya, guys, how’s it going?! Can I grab you something to drink to start out with this evening?”

Female Customer: “Hmm.” *eyeing over the menu looking at our milkshakes*

Me: “Were you maybe thinking about some milkshakes? We have some really good ones.” *lists flavors*

Female Customer: *laughing* “Babe! She’s a pusher!”

Male Customer: “Oh, my goodness. Haha!”

Female Customer: “I’m a pusher lady. I’m a pusher!”

(Understanding that my table is quoting ‘Mean Girls’ I start laughing too.)

Me: “Oh, my goodness, I love that movie!”

Female Customer: “We just watched it; I’m a big fan.”

(They order a couple rootbeer floats and when I go back to take their order this happens:)

Female Customer: “Okay. I’ll have a [Burger] and a [Side].”

Male Customer: “And I’ll have the same.”

Me: “Aw, man, I was kinda hoping you would get a Caesar salad.” *voice getting high and kinda frantic as on par with the movie quote* “SO WE CAN TOTALLY STAB IT!”

(They look at me like I just grew six heads.)

Female Customer: “Whaa?”

Me: “Oh, my god, I’m sorry! It was a joke. I was just kinda quoting the movie. You know? ‘We should just totally stab Caesar’? I’m sorry.” *awkward chuckle*

(They burst out laughing.)

Female Customer: “Oh, my goodness! You’re at a ten and imma need you to come back done to a three! Haha.”

Me: “Haha, okay, I’m sorry about that.”

(They get their food and everything is great. I go to drop off their check.)

Me: “I just wanted to let you guys know that I paid for your root beer floats tonight because I’m kind of a weirdo and I wanted to apologize for earlier.”

(They look at each other is disbelief and get huge smiles.)

Female Customer: “Haha, well, ‘You can’t sit with us!’ That’s great! You were okay. It was funny.”

Me: “Okay, good. Haha, I don’t know what it is, but when someone starts quoting ‘Mean Girls’ I just can’t stop. Like right now I suppressing the urge to ask you if you guys had ‘an awesome time drinking your awesome shooters’ with your awesome friends!”

(They lose it again and just start laughing.)

Female Customer: “Well, that’s it; I think you’re a bigger fan than I am!”

(They come up to pay the bill and my manager cashes them out.)

Me: “You guys have a great night!”

Them: “You, too!”

Me: “You go, Glenn Coco!”

(They left and my manager said that they told him they left me something at the table. I walked over and they had left me a note on a napkin with a $10 bill. The note said “On Wednesdays, we wear pink. :) Thank You!” This was truly one of the best customer experiences I’ve had. It was such a pleasure serving them. This encounter made my whole night and I’ve already told this story to a number of people who think it’s hilarious as well. Maybe it’s a “had to be there kind of thing” but I’ll never forget that couple.)

I occasionally work at conventions for a local gaming store when they need a few extra hands. It’s been a long day and the dealer’s room has just closed, but the convention itself is still going strong. All of my coworkers have gone off to meet other friends, and I’m feeling a little lonely since I’m spending the weekend away from my fiancée. I decide to walk around the convention a little anyway and then sit down on a bench to play with my 3DS.

Since this is an anime and gaming convention, there are tons of cosplayers everywhere. The convention centre is in the downtown, and sometimes you’ll see ‘convention tourists,’ or people who obviously know nothing about the convention but are gawking at all the strange costumes. I’m dressed all in black and red, with a long black hooded cloak, heavy combat boots, devil’s horns and black lipstick, and I probably look pretty intimidating.

Suddenly there’s a tug on my cloak, and I look up from my game to see a little boy about four years old beaming at me. He says something in French I don’t understand just as his father catches up, smiling sheepishly. His father says the boy wants his picture taken with me. Of course I say yes, and the boy crawls right into my lap, still beaming, so his dad can take a picture. Then he thanks me, and off they go.

I was dressed as an obscure character from a popular web-comic. There’s no way either father or son actually knew who I was dressed as. I have no idea why the little boy decided the girl in the dark cloak and demon horns was the one he wanted a photo with, but it was the highlight of my weekend!

I work in a theme park that every summer would invite performers to come put on concerts.

One day the band is a group of relatively new performers who are not entirely aware of their popularity.

The concert itself is free, but seating is limited so fans are lined up at 10:00 to get tickets at 11:00 for a concert at 6:00. Upon learning of this the band members go out with the employee to hand out tickets and personally thank the fans for coming out. When the last ticket is given they send their liaison to get posters and pictures and sign them, handing them out to the people in line while apologizing that they didn’t get a ticket.

Afterward, throughout the day, they mingled with the general parkgoers and would buy the ride photos from their rides and sign them for their seatmates as thanks for supporting the venue. We have had a lot of celebrities at the park over the years but this was the first time we had any go out of their way to make the guests feel that they were more important than themselves.

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In university I get the opportunity to spend a semester teaching English in rural Japan. A Japanese woman who did her master’s studies at my university had opened her own English school, and every year she took on a student from my program as her way of paying it forward.

I am excited to go, but it means flying from Chicago to Tokyo Narita, the international airport, catching a train to Tokyo Haneda, the domestic airport, flying to another airport in the south of Japan, then catching another train to the small town, all on my own. My supervisor won’t be meeting me until I make it all the way to my final destination. Since I’ll be in Japan for four and a half months, my suitcase is huge and I can’t lift it on my own.

My first flight goes well; I even manage to sleep a little. I speak Japanese moderately well, since that’s what I am studying in uni, but reading is much harder, especially when tired. Luckily most of the signs in Tokyo also have English translations, and I am able to catch the connecting train to Haneda, where I have about four hours before my next flight. I get checked in and find my gate, but I am so tired I can’t help curling up to nap and hope that no one messes with my bags, which I pull as close to me as I can.

Several people do wake me, but only to make sure I am not missing my flight! Every time a new boarding is called at that gate or the one next to it, someone comes to wake me and politely ask if this is my flight. It is a different person every time, and I am so touched that all of them are concerned about the young foreigner obviously traveling on her own.

I make my second flight to southern Japan, where everything is much more rural and English much more rare. By the time I land and am trying to find my train, I have been awake for about twenty hours, there is a thirteen hour time difference, and I am completely exhausted and losing my grasp on Japanese. I finally figure out where I need to go, but the platform is up a double flight of stairs and I can’t find an elevator anywhere.

Seeing no other choice, I start hauling my bags up the stairs, one step at a time. I have not only my huge suitcase, but also a backpack and a shoulder bag with my laptop. I make it up to the first landing and then trip, falling over my suitcase and only barely keeping my laptop from hitting the concrete. I am so tired and stressed that I just sit down on the step and start crying.

Out of nowhere, an older Japanese man in a full suit and tie stops and bends over me, asking if I am all right. I manage to get across that I need to get up the stairs, but I can’t do it by myself. Without further word, he leans over and lifts my giant suitcase, despite me protesting that it is very heavy. He carries it up the rest of the stairs for me while I follow, pouring out thanks. I manage to pull 1000Yen out of my wallet and try to give it to him, but he refuses, makes sure I have ahold of my suitcase again, and disappears into the crowd.

It seems like no big deal, but I was so tired at the end of a very long trip, and I’ll never forget the kindness that was paid to me. I had so many amazing interactions with people during my months in Japan, but that kind soul right at the start of my trip will always be the clearest in my mind. Arigatou gozaimasu, kind stranger!