It was a sold-out weekend at our hotel because of a major corporate convention. Guests were coming in from all over the country. The rooms were assigned by the housing bureau and paid for by their employer. It had been a crazy night with people finding out they had roommates, a non-smoker being assigned a smoking room, and two hated competitors being assigned to the same room (intentionally done by their boss, with notes not to move them).

One of our last arrivals for this group was a man named Robin. Immediately after Robin checked in, he returned to the desk with a young lady in tow.

Robin: “There must be a mistake; I’m in a room with a woman I don’t know.”

Lady: “I’m sure he is a nice guy, but staying in a room with a strange man…”

Me: “I apologize, but we didn’t assign the rooms; they were assigned by the housing bureau.”

Robin: “Could I pay for my own room?”

Me: “Unfortunately, we’re sold out.”

There was a hotel on the other side of downtown that had rooms — but of course, all the convention meetings were at our hotel. I did point out that if they could find someone in a single room to switch with, I would be more than happy to reassign the rooms. They retired to the bar to figure things out.

I later saw them together at the convention’s social hour. They approached me and said they would make it work, and they asked if I could send up a pair of robes.

A year later, I’d forgotten all about Robin and his roommate when I received a call to come to the desk. There at the desk were Robin and his roommate, both with wide smiles on their faces. She was holding her hand up in that way all new brides do to show off their rings.

That weekend a year before was the start of their whirlwind relationship. They had just gotten married and decided to spend their honeymoon in the city where they’d met. I helped them plan their sightseeing activities and made restaurant suggestions.

They returned for the next two years that I was at that property. The last I heard, they had a child on the way and had relocated to our area.

Several years ago, I got the chance to participate in a plus-size fashion showcase as a model. This was my first — and so far only — modeling gig, and even for getting into the show, I was still majorly nervous.

Mind you, I had plenty of support! My husband and the rest of my family all thought this was a cool opportunity and were happy for me, and my fellow models, especially those who did this for a living, were encouraging and sweet. On top of that, we were getting to model gorgeous pieces from some stores that I really like.

However, my nerves came to a head at my second fitting. Picking out my outfit to represent [Store #1] was very easy, but at [Store #2], nothing seemed to be working. I’m not only plump, but I’m short, and even with my show-day heels on, the pieces I was trying on just didn’t seem to sit right.

Our fashion coordinator, who did final sign-offs on the outfits we would wear, must have seen my frustration, because she called me over and pulled a sleeveless purple jumpsuit off the rack, along with a faux fur coat.

Coordinator: “Let’s give this a try, okay?”

I changed into the jumpsuit, and I looked at myself in the mirror. I loved the color, but again, the fit didn’t seem right. [Coordinator] seemed enthusiastic, but I was now in a pessimistic mood.

Coordinator: “We’ve got the right look here, especially once you put on the coat.”

Me: “Ugh, I just don’t know! I’m not feeling it!”

[Coordinator] rolled her eyes a bit, but the next comment was delivered with kindness.

Coordinator: “[My Name], this is my job. Do you really believe that I would let you onto the runway in an outfit that I wasn’t 100 percent certain of?”

For whatever reason, that was the comment that finally helped calm my nerves. And of course, she ended up being right. With the coat, the outfit was sensational, and I got MANY cheers when I walked in that particular outfit at the show!

I was the operations manager (basically, the store manager when my boss was away) for an office supply store that went into liquidation. It was a pretty awful time; I really did love my job and most of our customers, and I loved working on both the ops side (new product and inventory) and print services. Plus, we were that rare place that had many long-time employees and had pretty awesome customer service. We all took the liquidation hard because the store might have been old and run down… but it was home.

I could fill pages with the bad customers, sure, but I think the good ones deserve a real highlight, especially the ones who helped us make the closing that much easier. I wound up being the manager in charge of everything at the end, so I was in the thick of everything… but these were the wonderful people who helped me make it through.

[Customer #1] was a local business owner.

Customer #1: “Oh, no, I’m so sorry you’re closing. Does anyone need a good reference? Here’s my name and number; they can call for me any time.

[Customers #2 – #7] were other larger local business owners.

Customers #2 – #7: “Here, let everyone know we’re hiring; we will find a place for whoever needs a job, especially [Employee #1] and [Employee #2].”

These were our two longest-serving employees, and both had severe mental and physical health issues, so they were the two we were all most worried about. [Employee #1] is joyfully employed with one of these customers now, with full benefits and retirement.

[Customer #8], a retired teacher, bought our ENTIRE remaining laptop stock for teachers in her district, and services before we shut down services. This was a $5,000+ order and made our jobs easier because we didn’t have to trash any tech.

[Customer #9], a current teacher, bought 90% of our teaching supply stock, shocking our liquidator to speechlessness, and then came back and bought our notebooks out, too.

The general customers were amazingly sweet with lots of donations and rewards sign-ups so we still kept our numbers up, and they were kind to all of us through a really harsh time.

Bad customers always seem to be the ones everyone remembers, but here’s to the good ones out there; we do remember you, and you are so deeply appreciated. I wish you all the best, and if any of you are reading this, know that you made some pretty dark days bright again. Keep on shining!

I’m a woman, and in my destitute student years, there was a period of time when I couldn’t be bothered about hair in general, and I didn’t feel like paying a hairdresser a fortune, so whenever I went home for the weekend, I’d just borrow my dad’s beard trimmer and give myself a really short trim. 

At that point, I did not own a hair trimmer of my own. This was a mistake on my part. 

On a weekend visit to home, I decided it was time for a hair trim. Unfortunately, I decided to do it a little late, only about thirty minutes before I had to catch my train back to my dorm. 

That would have been all right, except that my dad’s trimmer chose that exact time to run out of batteries. So, there I was, with a half-trimmed head, in a rush to go, or otherwise, I would have missed my train. 

I decided, “F*** it.” Knit hat on, onto the train, and off to my dorm room. 

There was a hair salon a block away from where I lived and on my way home, I decided to drop in to see if they had any emergency appointments. 

Me: “Excuse me, I completely messed up my hair over the weekend. Do you have any drop-in appointments?”

Hairdresser: “Sorry, we’re fully booked right now. How about Tuesday?”

Me: “That’s okay. I’ll just have to wear a hat until then, I guess.”

The hairdresser looked at me, looked at the hat, and looked back at me.

Hairdresser: “How bad is it?”

I took off my hat to show my half-trimmed hair. I honestly looked like a hedgehog with mange. 

Hairdresser: “You know what? I have a couple of minutes before my next appointment. Let’s get that taken care of.”

I was in and out of that chair in five minutes with a nice even trim, and when I took my wallet out to pay, the hairdresser just shook her head.

Hairdresser: “Honestly, this is like a public service. No charge, and keep track of the batteries in the future!”

It was an incredibly kind gesture, and by the time I was ready to deal with hair and the cost of maintaining it again, that hair salon and that hairdresser were my first choice.

This happened a few months ago on a very busy night. I was absolutely SLAMMED by the point of the night when my three-top turned into a seven-top and managed to find a second table to add to their initial table in my already full section.

I had so much food to run at that point, so when I noticed this table had added people, I told them I’d be right there. It took a while, maybe five or ten minutes; I’m not sure. My frazzled a** ran over, and everybody placed their order. One guy, while placing his drink order, handed me five bucks. I continued the order, and then his friend handed me a twenty. Good start!

I brought them their drinks. The dude handed me five bucks. I came back with their salads. Five bucks. Dropped off salt and pepper. Five bucks.

I mentioned to the hostess at one point that every time I went to this table, the guy handed me five bucks. I went on with my night.

I brought them their food. He handed me five bucks. At that point, I finally said something.

Me: “Do you just walk around with $5 in your pocket at all times?! How many $5 bills do you have?!”

Customer: “I’m a continuous tipper.” *Hands me five bucks*

I left it at that and continued my night. His friend came up to me at some point away from the table.

Customer’s Friend: “His health is deteriorating, and he wants to use his money to make others smile.”

Well, I was the lucky one who got to serve him that night. Eventually, one of the hostesses came up to me.

Hostess: “I see what you mean about five bucks.” *Flashes a five-dollar bill* “I was cleaning tables around yours, and he gave me five bucks!”

I high-fived her, and the night continued.

More and more people came to me to tell me that this guy had handed them five bucks. If they were working in his vicinity, five bucks. He asked me what time it was at one point, and I pulled out my phone to check. His friend stopped me and said:

Customer’s Friend: “You’re supposed to say, ‘It’s tip time.'”

And he handed me five bucks!

One coworker caught wind of the five bucks phenomenon, and he walked in the customer’s vicinity to see if he’d hand him five bucks. He didn’t, so we thought, “Maybe just the girls get five bucks?”

So, we sent the new guy out in that vicinity to test that theory. He came back with $20.

Anyway, I cashed the table out. The customer tipped $30 on their $80 tab. His friend came up to me while I was taking another table’s order and handed me a twenty.

I ran outside to thank them again, and I saw the guy talking to some coworkers. He asked one of them what time it was.

Coworker: “Oh… I know this one! Tip time!”

He handed her ten bucks since he had run out of fives. He went on about how great of a night he’d had.

I responded by talking about how great of a night WE’D had.

At this point, I was standing at a distance, though. I couldn’t accept any more money. They had already given me a ridiculous amount.

Me: “Sir, you made everybody’s night. You are the reason we love what we do.”

Customer: “Remember me.”

I will.

Customer: “And look for me when [Band that’s playing tonight] plays.”

I do. They’ve played maybe four times since, and I haven’t seen him.

I hope that guy is doing okay. My favorite part of that day, aside from everybody being overjoyed at work, was the joy in his eyes. He seemed genuinely happy to see our reactions. I aspire to be like him one day.