(My father has just started disability and can no longer work, let alone as a plumber. Just for starters he’s on oxygen, has multiple broken vertebrae, and the drugs his doctor has put him on make it impossible for him to remain upright more than a few minutes at a time. One day, he receives a call.)

Caller: “Is this Mister [Father]?”

Father: “Yes.”

Caller: “You don’t know me, but you did some work for a Mrs. [Name] a few years back. You helped her, no questions asked, when no other plumber would since she couldn’t pay. And then when she was finally able to pay, you slashed her bill in half since she was having money troubles. She recommended you to all of her friends and all of them have nothing but the best to say about you.”

Father: “I’m glad they liked my service, but I’m sorry, I no longer work. I can recommend some guys to you, though.”

Caller: “Oh, I know you no longer work. You see, I’m an investigator for [Insurance Company]. I just thought you might want to know that they’ll be having an investigator shadow you next week. I thought you were a decent enough person that you deserved a heads-up.”

Father: “Well, that… that’s incredibly kind of you.”

Caller: “After what you did for my mother, it was the least I could do.”

Father: “Thank you so much.”

Caller: “You’re welcome. Oh. And by the way, have your wife take down all the pictures of you on your motorcycle from her social media. They’ll be looking at that, too.” *click*

(I’m stocking a shelf. I notice a customer with her five-year-old daughter. They both look like they’ve been through a hard time.)

Little Girl: “Mama, I’m hungry.”

(The mother looks near tears.)

Mother: “I know, baby; I’m sorry. Mommy only has $5, so we have to find food that will stretch until next week when Mommy gets paid.”

Little Girl: “Okay.”

(I see another customer with a baby in a cart walk up to the woman.)

Another Customer: “Excuse me, I couldn’t help but overhear you. I don’t mean to put you on the spot, but I’d like to help you.”

(The other customer holds out a $20 bill. The mother starts to cry.)

Mother: “You don’t even know me, and you’re trying to help me. My husband walked out. I work a minimum wage job, and it’s just been so hard. You’re the first person who has shown me such kindness in a long time, and you’re a stranger to me.”

Another Customer: “I’m someone who thinks the world would work a bit better if people paid it forward a little more. I might not know you, but I know you’ve been dealt a bad hand. When’s the last time you ate? I’m sure you’re making sure your daughter eats, but when’s the last time you did?”

Mother: “How did you—”

Another Customer “Because you’re a mother.”

Mother: “I… thank you so much! This will really help. Are you sure?”

Another Customer: “I’m positive. You know you can get some of the stuff here ‘2 for 1’, so that can help.”

Mother: “Thank you… thank you so much! I’ll find a way to pay you back.”

Another Customer: “There’s no need to do that. I hope things get better for you, and when they do, you can pay it forward.”

Mother: “Thank you so much.”

(I’m called to the front, so I don’t see the rest of the exchange. The mother and daughter come through my lane with a cart full of food.)

Little Girl: “Mommy, was that lady an angel?”

Mother: “Yes, baby, she was.”

(Their total came to just under the 25 dollars the mother had. I relate the story to my manager. When the other customer came up with her daughter, my manager had a gift card for $20 waiting for her. That customer comes in every month or so, and we all refer to her as the angel.)

This story is part of our Pay It Forward roundup!

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Read the Pay It Forward roundup!

My parents meet my husband and me in a neutral destination for my son’s second birthday. Our relationship has unfortunately always ranged from rocky to non-existent, and this particular visit is going as poorly as expected.

My father is driving a rental car, and refuses to stop for food or bathroom breaks all day long. By the time he finally selects a restaurant, it is almost nine pm, we are all exhausted, my two-year-old is at the end of his rope, and I am silently seething. We walk in, grubby in our vacation clothes, and realize my father has deliberately selected the type of restaurant that an overwhelmed, hungry, and tired two-year-old should never, ever enter. The tuxedo-clad maître d’ escorts us to the only open section of the building, next to two older couples. I don’t know who groans louder, the two couples, or me and my frustrated husband.

As we wait for our food, my husband and I do our best to a) ignore my parents attempts to make our son cry and their pointed criticism of our parenting choices and b) entertain the kiddo very quietly while we c) slink down in our seats further and further as we realize that one of the two couples next to us is on their first date, and thanks to the fact that we have no transportation of our own, we can’t even leave them to eat in peace.

Halfway through our dinner, the other two couples finish their meals and get up to leave. The gentleman on his first date excuses himself from his group, steps back over to our table, and taps my husband on the shoulder.

Diner: “Excuse me, sir,” *I cringe and hold my breath* “I know you can’t help overhearing that I’m on a date here, and I want you to know that I was so upset when you and your child were seated next to us. But I also want you to know that this is the best-behaved child I have EVER seen, and whatever you and your wife are doing, it’s working. Keep doing it!”

The look on my parent’s face was priceless! And over ten years later, I still tear up when I remember how his words completely changed our evening. I’m pretty sure he was an angel in disguise… Whoever you are, kind stranger, I hope that you went on to have many more amazing dates with your companion!

(I am coming home from a conference and have to change planes at New York LaGuardia. My first plane is delayed, and then canceled, and the first airline isn’t particularly helpful. I manage to get a ticket on the last flight of the evening on another airline, but I am told wrongly that my luggage is in New York, not my final destination. I am sitting near the gate for the new airline, and am nearly in tears with stress. A crew member for the new airline is sitting nearby.)

Me: “Excuse me? I’m on this flight, and I wondered if there is enough time to go out, find my luggage, and get back in through security.”

Crewmember: “Probably enough time, but definitely check to make sure security isn’t closed or you won’t get back in.”

Me: “Yikes, didn’t think of that. Thanks!”

(I went to check, and sure enough security is closed. Dejected, I go and sit back down where I had been.)

Crewmember: “Any luck?”

Me: “No, they’re closed.”

Crewmember: “Did you check their website? They might have a baggage locator.”

Me: “Thanks, I’ll check.”

(After a few more minutes, I go to a page that asks me to put in some luggage ID number.)

Me: “Do you know which of these numbers is the luggage ID number?”

Crewmember: “Hmm, not sure. But try this one.”

(Sure enough, that number worked, and my luggage was actually at my destination. My stress level went down about 25 notches at that point. When the new flight finally boarded, an hour-and-a-half late, it turned out the very nice crew member was actually the captain of my flight. I made sure to thank him profusely for the help, and the ride home. Whoever you were, Captain Helpful, thanks for taking the time at 11:30 at night to be pleasant and helpful to a very stressed out traveler!)

(I am traveling via Montreal. I am tired from hauling two suitcases, upset at leaving my mother, and coming down with a bad laryngitis (but don’t know it yet). I arrive from the U.S. by bus and buy a Metro ticket to downtown. An elderly man comes running after me:)

Elderly Man: “You forgot your wallet at the ticket window!”

Me: “Oh, my! It still has all my money in it, too! Thank you so much!”

(Downtown I escalate myself and suitcases up three floors to Information to find out where to catch the airport shuttle. One of my suitcases tips over and I don’t have the strength to pick it up. A man comes up.)

Man: “Where are you going?”

Me: “I’m trying to get to the shuttle.”

(He goes to the information desk to make sure of the location, then hauls the heavy suitcase two floors down and two streets over to the shuttle depot, makes sure it’s the right shuttle, puts my suitcases on the bus and wishes me a good trip. There are a few minutes before the shuttle leaves so I go into a nearby soda fountain. It’s nearly empty and the staff are obviously trading jokes. I smiled at the good cheer.)

Me: “Can I just get a soda water?”

Staff: “Are you very thirsty?”

Me: “Yes.”

(I pay for my drink, but when I took a sip it was the more expensive Sprite! I have never forgotten the three ‘angels’ and bless them whenever I think of Montreal.)