(Most customers at the café where I work are regulars, including an older couple who comes in every Saturday. The wife is slightly disabled and has a mild facial disfigurement. She has previously complimented me on a certain necklace I wear. Today, I’m not exactly in a good place. While I am washing up, she comes to the side of the shop and calls me.)

Wife: “I want to see you when you get a moment!”

(When I go to clean the tables, I walk over to her table.)

Me: “You wanted to show me something?”

(The wife hands me a small bag. Inside is an assortment of beautiful gold jewellery with sparkling stones.)

Me: “Oh, they’re so beautiful! Thank you for showing me these!”

Wife: “Keep them.”

Me: “I’m sorry?”

Wife: “I bought them for you.”

Me: “For me? Are you sure?”

Wife: “Yes, I ordered them for you. Do you like them?”

Me: “Of course I do… thank you. I’m very touched.”

Wife: “It’s alright, darling. You’re a beautiful girl, and I want to help you if you need it!”

(It’s moments like these that remind me there’s still good in the world.)

(I have just finished ringing up a good-sized amount of groceries—slightly over $100 worth—for a woman. A man has been waiting quietly in line behind her. When I tell her the total, the man speaks up.)

Man: “Ma’am, I’d like to pay for this for you.”

Woman: *surprised* “ALL of it?”

Man: “Yes.  I’d like to pay for your entire order, if you don’t mind.”

(Several seconds pass, as the woman blinks repeatedly.)

Woman: “Well, certainly, if you’re willing. But… can I ask why?”

Man: “Well, slightly over a year ago I was diagnosed with advanced neuroblastoma. They started me on aggressive chemotherapy almost that same day, and my doctor said I only had about a 30% chance of even making it to 2012. That was on August 28th of 2011. My final round of chemo was last Monday, and today they got back the results from my latest MRI: it said ‘no evidence of disease.’ So, I’m feeling very rich right now, and I’d like to spread it around.”

(And then he paid for her groceries!)

(It’s my birthday, and my girlfriend has cooked me an amazing dinner at home. Note: she has lost 90% of her left leg due to bone cancer when she was 17. The other thing to note is that my car’s radio/cassette player has been stolen, so I use an old boom box. Because the boom box had started melting in the car due to the Phoenix heat, I’ve gotten into the habit of bringing it inside with me when I leave my car. Thus, my girlfriend isn’t surprised when I bring the boom box in.)

My Girlfriend: “So? How was it?”

Me: “‘How was it?’ Are you kidding? You’re a fantastic cook!”

My Girlfriend: *smiling* “Okay…gift time!”

Me: “You mean you planned more than steak and potatoes for your ‘steak and potatoes’ man?”

My Girlfriend: “Yup.”

(She hands me an envelope, which I promptly open up.)

Me: “Sting tickets? You got me Sting tickets?! Oh my God, I love you!”

My Girlfriend: “I thought you’d like it!”

Me: “I love it! And you! And now… your present.”

My Girlfriend: “My present? It’s your birthday.”

Me: “Trust me on this one.”

(I pick her up and set her down on her one leg in the middle of her living room. She didn’t usually wear her prosthetic at home because it is uncomfortable.)

My Girlfriend: “What are you doing?”

Me: “Shhh. I said to trust me.”

(I move to the boom box and hit play for the CD. Our song, Celine Dion’s “Because You Loved Me,” starts playing. I then start to slow dance with my girlfriend.)

My Girlfriend: *tearing up* “I haven’t danced since I lost my leg.”

Me: *softly* “I know…”

(We slow-danced until the song was over, with her shedding tears of joy the whole way through the song. And while our relationship didn’t last, it was a truly amazing date for that dance alone.)

(I’m a customer and am standing in line at the checkout behind a very sweet-looking little old lady. She’s a stereotypical, blue-haired, tiny woman dressed in a very nice yellow and pink pantsuit. The cashier is a nice-looking young man in his late teens or early twenties.)

Little Old Lady: *to the cashier* “You know, you’re a very handsome young man, and you can hold down a job. That’s a good thing.”

Cashier: “Thank you, ma’am.”

(The lady then proceeds to chat in a very friendly manner to the cashier. While talking, she’s very slowly and carefully placing one item at a time on the conveyor.)

Little Old Lady: “So, I think my granddaughter would be perfect for you. She’s just turned nineteen, she has a nice job of her own, and she’s pretty. You boys like redheads, right?”

Cashier: *dazed look*

Little Old Lady: “You really should meet her. I just know you two would be perfect for each other! I know these things!”

Cashier: “Um, ma’am—”

Little Old Lady: “So, what do you say? Would you like to meet my Linda?”

Cashier: “Ma’am, I’m gay.”

(At this, the sweet-faced little old lady just blinks and smiles.)

Little Old Lady: “Okay, so you need to meet my grandson instead!”

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(It’s a very busy day at our drugstore. A customer comes to my register after waiting a very long time in line.)

Me: “Hello, did you find everything okay today?”

Customer: “I want to speak to your manager immediately!”

Me: “Is there something I could help you with?”

Customer: “No, I want to speak with your manager now!”

(I page the manager, and mentally prepare myself for whatever argument this customer is about to unleash.)

Manager: “What seems to be the problem, ma’am?”

Customer: “I need to tell you… I was in here yesterday and this man was just screaming at your employees. Nothing would stop him, he was so angry! They were all trying to be so helpful and he just kept screaming! You should be incredibly proud of your employees! They handled themselves so well and never once argued back!”

(She put a smile on all of our faces. When her transaction was finished, she told me to keep the change!)