This year, I was one of the late Christmas shoppers. I decided to look out for the last gifts at the mall, so off I went.

While I was browsing, I noticed a small jeweler that somehow had a lot of people. I decided everyone would like some trinkets and went in. The reason it was so packed was that there was a 50% discount on a selection of jewelry.

I was weaving in and out between customers, checking out what the shop had. I decided on two silver rings and pearl earrings. I joined the somehow short queue and waited for my turn.

When I arrived…

Cashier: “Sorry, ma’am, those two ladies were in front of you!”

I looked behind me to see two women looking at the cashier.

Me: “Oops, my bad. I’ll wait, then.”

So, that’s what I did. Good for me, because I noticed a pair of earrings that were cheaper and prettier.

When it was my turn, I apologised again for unknowingly cutting in front of people. The cashier smiled.

Cashier: “It’s all right. The place’s so packed, it’s hard to tell who’s in line and who’s still browsing.”

Me: “I used to work in a bookshop. December was hellish. Too many people for just us three, and so rude sometimes. I remember someone actually whistling to get my attention. Thankfully, my manager chewed him out.”

As if on cue, a customer started yelling:

Customer: “Hey, I need some help here!”

The cashier sighed and called her coworker.

Cashier: “That’s the same here. Black Friday, Christmas, the Winter and Summer sales, we’re always so packed.”

We kept making small talk while she was ringing me up. Right after I paid, she whispered with a smile, “Stay exactly as you are, all right?”

I will, don’t worry.

This was several years back, around 2018. I’m seeing a movie with friends, but I’ve already seen it a few times while this is the first time most of them are seeing it.

When we enter the theater, we all buy ourselves individual snacks, as well as popcorn to share. There are a lot of us, so we buy two large popcorns. It’s a slow day, too, so we have the theater to ourselves.

Halfway through the movie, I realize we are out of popcorn. Thinking I’ll do something nice, I get up and head out of the theater, saying I’ll be right back.

I head to the lobby, and with the last of the money my mom gave me, I ask to buy a large popcorn, proudly proclaiming it’s to share with my friends.

Now, I’m about twelve, and I have no clue how sales tax works. So, while I have just enough for the popcorn, I’m about forty-five cents short on the tax.

I stop myself from crying — I am unfortunately one of those people who cries very easily, at anything — and tell them I can get a size smaller.

However, the group of college-aged boys working the counter does something that’ll always stick with me.

The one serving me at the front yells to his buddies, “Hey, we need 45 cents up here!”, and they all pool together the change for me to afford the big bucket.

I left for the theater crying after that, but they were happy tears, especially because I’d never really had anyone be kind to me with no reason or provocation before. The fact that they did that just because they could made my day. It was forty-five cents, more than five years ago, but it still means the world to me.

I work in a build-your-own-sandwich type of place. We have a regular who has come in every Sunday for as long as I can remember. He’s a very old man with a super long beard. He looks a little rough around the edges and unapproachable, but he’s never acted unfriendly even though he might look it.

A family with two young sons comes in, and they start ordering their sandwiches. The youngest boy, maybe four or five years old, notices the old man and immediately approaches him with a big bold smile.

Little Boy: “Hi!”

His parents haven’t noticed yet, and I am happy to observe the old man smiling ever-so-slightly.

Old Man: “Hello, young man.”

Little Boy: “My grandpa said men with long beards always have good stories, and your beard is the longest ever!”

The old man suddenly roars with laughter. It’s so loud and so sudden that it shocks everyone in the place — everyone, that is, except the little boy, who is laughing along with him.

The parents suddenly notice that their youngest is talking to someone, and the mother comes over.

Mother: “Come on, now, [Little Boy]. Stop bothering the nice man.”

Little Boy: “But, Moooom! The beard! He has stories! Storiessssss!“

Now I can’t help it. I am laughing, as are the old man and a few other customers.

Old Man: “If it’s okay with you, miss, I am sitting here for a few more minutes while I finish my sandwich. I can tell him a short and fun story that’s age-appropriate if he’d like.”

Mother: “I don’t want him to be a bother—”

Old Man: “Honestly, I’d appreciate the company.”

Hesitantly at first, the mother relaxes her grip a little on her son, and he enthusiastically sits at the same table as the old man. The family sits at the table next to him so that they can listen to the story, which sounds like one of those older parables my own grandparents used to tell.

After two or three minutes, the tale is done.

Little Boy: “Thanks! You remind me of my Grandpa!”

Old Man: “Tell him I appreciate the compliment!”

Little Boy: “Oh, I can’t. He went away.”

Mother: *Stepping in* “My dad, his grandpa, passed away last month. You do resemble him, I have to admit. I’m sorry again if he’s being a bother—”

Old Man: “Ma’am, your son is the first friendly face I have seen in almost five years. These last few minutes have been a blessing; the last possible thing he has been is a bother. Thank you for your kindness.”

And with that, he stood, bowed slightly, and headed on out as was his routine.

I never saw him, or that family again, but it was a little moment that will stick with me forever. A minute or two of kindness can be everything…

Almost every Friday like clockwork, our pizza place gets a delivery order for 42 [Street]. I am new, so I am bringing pizza to this address for the first time. I knock on the door to 42, and it’s opened by a group of three wide-eyed kids. The children’s faces all light up when they see me, my uniform, and most importantly, the pizza box.

Children: *All in unison* “Mommy ordered pizza! Mommy ordered pizza! We’re having pizzaaaaa!“

Just as I think I am about to make these kid’s night, the mother appears. She looks very skinny, and I notice that the apartment looks a little… barren. I’ve seen this before when I was also young and had a single mother scraping by just to keep the kids well-fed and warm.

She looks at me, looks at her kids, and she looks like she is about to cry.

Mother: “Sorry, I think you’re looking for 42-B. This is 42-A. It’s the door just past this one.”

Me: “Oh, sorry. I didn’t see.”

Mother: “It’s okay. The doors aren’t very clear.”

The kids have put it together, and they realize the pizza is not for them. They don’t cry or have a tantrum, but I can tell their little hearts are broken.

Mother: *To her kids* “Remember your manners! Say goodbye to the nice man!”

They all manage a subdued “bye” as the mother closes the door, and I feel broken.

I successfully deliver the pizza to the correct recipient and head back to the pizza place. I instantly tell the manager about my encounter, and within minutes, I am out the door again for more deliveries.

Less than an hour later, I am standing in front of 42-A. The kids once again open the door and are surprised to see me, although they’re tempering their excitement this time after what happened before.

Me: “Hey, kids! Is your mommy here?”

Before they can answer, their mother has returned again. Her face is one of confusion when she sees me again.

Me: “Oh, hello again! After my mistake of knocking on the wrong door earlier, I wanted to make it up to you and bring you some pizzas on the house. One of these is a veggie supreme, and the other is a pepperoni as I didn’t know if you were vegetarian or not. You’re welcome to both if that’s not an issue.”

Mother: *Embarrassed* “I… I don’t have any money for a tip.”

Me: “That’s what ‘on the house’ means! My tip was seeing your kids behaving so politely earlier and wishing me an amazing goodbye! So… can I give you the pizza?”

The mother burst into tears as she happily accepted, and the kids almost exploded with excitement. I totally get it; I would have been elated to know we were getting pizza when I was a kid. They happily took both pizzas!

And they did so again the Friday after that when 42-B made their order again.

And again…

And sometimes when 42-B didn’t even order…

And for all the kid’s birthdays…

For two more years. 

That family kept my soul alive until I left for college!

I am having a hard day, but it’s no one’s problem but my own, so I am grinning through it and not letting it affect my work as a checkout operator.

A man and his little daughter are checking out and seem to be in the middle of a conversation.

Daughter: “So, I can grow up to be anything I want?”

Customer: “That’s right. If you work hard at school, you could be a doctor or an astronaut! No job is too good for my little girl!”

The daughter sees me, and I smile over at her.

Daughter: *Talking to her dad but looking at me* “I want to do what this lady does! She always helps us with the ice cream!”

The dad looks over at me and smiles kindly.

Customer: *Talking to his daughter, but also looking at me* “Like I said, no job is too good for my little girl.”

They both smiled at me, and the little girl excitedly asked me lots of cute questions and observations about my job, such as, “You get to press ALL the buttons?” 

It made me feel so much better!