(I work at an upscale garden show and vendors’ market once a year, which is sponsored by an aristocratic family and takes place on the grounds of their manor. On one evening, the head of the house also holds a special VIP event, to which he invites politicians, CEOs, and other aristocrats. They receive a special invitation, which also counts as their ticket to the garden show before the event. Unfortunately, a lot of the VIPs forget their tickets and are the stereotypically arrogant, “Don’t you know who I am?! I don’t NEED a ticket!” kind of people. So far, we’ve had four small altercations with VIPs, and I fear another one coming when I see a quite posh-looking man approach my table from the side.)

Posh Man: “Hello! I have a bit of a problem. My wife and I forgot our invitations to the VIP event. We’re terribly sorry. Is there any way to let us in, or do we have to drive back home?”

Me: *somewhat taken back by his friendly politeness* “Oh, that should be no problem! All I need is your ID or anything else that shows your name, and I can ask the organisers to check the invite list.”

(The wife suddenly begins to giggle while the man is searching for his ID.)

Wife: “You’re not going to believe us, I think.”

Posh Man: “Oh, yes.” *smiling sheepishly* “You probably won’t. We get it a lot.”

(Confused, I take his ID – and see that his title is Baron von Munchausen. I can’t help but laugh. “The Baron von Munchhausen” is a fairly well-known old collection of stories about said Baron, who makes up grand tales and stories of impossible feats about himself, such as riding on a cannon ball, riding a horse that was cut in half, etc.)

Me: *joking* “Oh, lord! Are you sure you got an invite?”

Posh Man: *winks* “I assure you it is not a lie!”

Me: “To be honest, I’d be tempted to let you in even if it was, just for the story!”

(After a quick chat with the organisers, they confirmed that he and his wife were invited, so I let them in. He winked at his wife, saying, “It worked!” loud enough for me to laugh again. He later left a tiny box of chocolate from one of the vendors in the office for “the ticket girl with good humour.” One of the nicest VIP encounters I’ve had in the five years I worked that job.)

(My sister works for a travel agency. Most of her clients rent vacation homes in the Caribbean: Barbuda, Antigua, and other islands recently devastated by a record-breaking hurricane. Because of this disaster, she has been continuously fielding calls from irate customers who either demand refunds, want to know why their flight is cancelled, or generally display a lack of concern for those who lost everything in the hurricane. Then, she gets this gem of a gentleman.)

Caller: “Hi! I wonder if you can tell me about my upcoming vacation. I’m worried the hurricane probably ruined the beach house. I also want to check my flight and see if it’s possible that it’s still a go.”

Sister: “Okay, let me look up your account… Yeah, it looks like your reservation was on one of the islands affected; we haven’t been able to contact anyone on the island, period, let alone the specific owner of the condo you reserved. I don’t see any problems with the airline listed, but that doesn’t mean it will still fly out; everything is a mess down there.”

Caller: “That’s not too surprising. I looked up the airport information, and it looks like they had some damage but are staying open.”

Sister: “I don’t know how long it will take to get the systems back to normal, but I have the information you need to try and start the process for a refund. I know it’s frustrating that everything is held up at the moment, but if you could fill out the forms at least, we can send them for you as soon as possible.”

Caller: “Oh, I don’t plan to cancel. I am just loading up my suitcases with supplies that people are running out of down there, and I’m going to try and volunteer for something if the flight isn’t cancelled. Thanks!” *hangs up*

Sister: *speechless*

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(My brother is getting surgery since he broke his collarbone, and he requests to have a burger and chicken nuggets when he wakes. I go to get some near the end of the surgery.)

Cashier: “Hello. Welcome to [Fast Food Place]; how may I help you?

Me: “Hi, I would like a [burger], an order of five chicken nuggets, and a small fry.”

(The cashier nods and I pay and wait for my order. When they call my number, I am confused to find ten chicken nuggets squeezed into a five nugget box, as well as a large fry.)

Me: *goes back to cashier* “I think you may have confused my order and—” *giggling a little* “—there’s ten chicken nuggets in here and I ordered five.”

(I figure the fry is a mistake, but that the chicken nuggets mean someone is really stupid or really nice.)

Manager: *coming up behind the cashier* “Yes, I saw your hospital visitor tag, and you also seemed to look stressed, so I figured you were having a bad day and told them to give you extra. My best wishes to whoever is in the hospital. Have a good day, ma’am.”

(I smiled at them and thanked them numerous times before returning to my brother. He didn’t want the [burger] or chicken nuggets since he was feeling sick from the anaesthesia, but he ate every last fry and I shared the chicken nuggets with his nurse. Sometimes people do things for a reason and it’s not a mistake.)

(I’m a bit of an insomniac, so I go for a walk at about half past midnight in my favorite lakefront park. I live in a quiet, residential neighborhood, and it’s not unusual for people to let their dogs off the leash if the park is empty and the dog is well-trained, so I’m not too concerned to see a German shepherd run by. What does concern me is that the dog is limping badly and whimpering. Worried, I walk over to the only other person in the park, a guy with a pair of year-old huskies, in the direction the dog had come from.)

Me: “Excuse me, but is that German shepherd yours? He’s limping pretty badly; I think he may have stepped on a piece of glass or something.”

(The guy looks up and notices the dog, and I see his eyes go wide.)

Guy: “Oh, s***. No, he’s not mine, but I know whose he is, and he’s definitely not supposed to be out here alone. He’s only seven months old.”

(Alarmed, we both head over to the German shepherd, and he lets me grab his collar after sniffing my hand. I find the broken-off clip from a leash.)

Me: “He must have snapped his leash or something. Do you have your phone, so we can call the family? I left mine on the charger.”

(The guy shakes his head, and with nothing else we can really do, we both wait with the dog. I have one hand on his collar, and the other petting him, trying to keep him calm. About five minutes later, a young girl, maybe 13 or 14, runs up, sobbing hysterically.)

Girl: “Oh, God, you found him! Is he okay? He broke his leash and r-ran out into the street, and he got hit by a car, and I didn’t know if he was d-dead, and I couldn’t find him! A-and my sister’s still at home, but I don’t have any way of getting him back there, and I can’t leave him here and-and oh, God, I don’t know what to d-do!”

Guy: “It’s okay. He’s hurt; he’s limping pretty badly, but he’s breathing okay.”

Me: “Run home and get your sister, and tell her to bring the car. We’ll stay here and make sure he’s okay.”

Girl: “Oh, God, are you sure? Th-thank you! Thank you so much!”

(She pets the shepherd and lets him sniff her, then goes tearing off down the street. The guy glances back at one of the apartment complexes bordering the park.)

Guy: “If I run and get my phone, can you keep an eye on the huskies for a minute?”

(I agree, so he carefully shuts both of his dogs in the park tennis court and sprints for the nearest building. He’s back less than three minutes later with his phone and his sister. She immediately takes charge of their huskies, and he starts Googling the nearest 24-hour animal ER. Throughout all of this, I’ve been petting and murmuring to the injured shepherd, trying to keep him calm, and he’s been so, so good. He’s clearly in pain and scared, but he doesn’t growl or snap once, just huddles as close to me as he can get. Finally, about ten minutes later, the young girl comes back.)

Girl: “My sister’s bringing the car, she’ll be here in a couple minutes. I can’t thank you guys enough for this.”

Guy: “Of course. I knew this guy wasn’t supposed to be out here alone; I wasn’t going to just leave him.”

Me: “God, of course. If my dog was hurt, I’d hope someone would help her until I could get there.”

(The girl hugs us both, and clears the garbage cans away from the park path so her sister can back straight into the park, traffic laws be d***ed. A minute later, her sister arrives, backing as close to us as she can get, before jumping out of the car to check on her dog.)

Sister: “How is he?”

Me: “His breathing’s okay, but his leg looks pretty bad, and he’s definitely in pain. The sooner you can get him to the vet, the better.”

Guy: “Here’s the address for the nearest emergency vet; it’s eleven minutes away. I already called, so they’ll be ready to x-ray him as soon as you arrive.”

Sister: “Oh, God, thank you. Thank you for staying with him.”

(We carefully lifted the dog into the backseat, and both sisters hugged us again before peeling out. I’d never met any of them before that night, and I haven’t seen them since, but I very much hope that they and their beautiful dog are okay! That night reminded me of something I heard a while back: in any crisis or disaster, look for the people helping.)

The day of the 2017 Solar Eclipse, some friends and I carpooled out to our college for a viewing event. Unfortunately, by the time we got there, they had run out of eclipse-viewing glasses. While there were volunteers walking around offering to let people borrow theirs for a few seconds each, I was still a bit upset, because I was hoping to get some as a keepsake for the event.

As I was informing my friends of this setback, a young girl, probably no older than ten, came up and tried to hand me her glasses, having overheard. I tried to decline, but she insisted, saying that she and her two companions could take turns with what they had. The companions didn’t seem bothered at all by the notion of sharing theirs. After a couple rounds of this, I relented and took them, thanking her repeatedly.

The eclipse was unforgettable, but her kind gesture was even more so.

This story is part of the Eclipse roundup! This is the last story in the roundup, but we have plenty of others you might enjoy!

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