In the video game store where I work, I have a couple of regular costumers that come once or twice a week: a mother and her son, about seven years old. I especially know them because they always ask for Lego games and the mom plays with her son… and they are fairly good, too.

Our store also has a special promotion with the receipts; for every hour you play, we put a seal on your receipt and when you get ten seals total, you get a free hour.

The mom and child couple have gathered the ten seals and ask for their game, though the kid’s mom tells me they have something important to do and to tell her in half an hour so they can go. She assumes once that half an hour is done and they leave, that means she can’t redeem the rest of the promotion.

I tell her to not worry; she can return when she’s done and she can play the half-hour she has left. She seems pretty happy about this.

So, they leave after the first half-hour and they return later in the day. As I promised, I’m honoring her deal and giving her the half-hour she missed. To my surprise, she’s come with a cup of coffee she gives me as thanks. It’s been a really cold day, so it really hits the spot. It was a simple gesture, but really made my day.

I work at a restaurant that offers those “singing and cake” extras for birthdays. One day, I am approached by two teenage boys who pay for the birthday special for their female friend. I’m thinking, “Aw, that’s cute!”

We make the cake and we go sing “Happy Birthday” to their table… and it quickly becomes obvious that the girl is not into it. She’s death-glaring at the boys so hard I’m surprised they don’t burst into flames. They giggle the entire time. When it’s time to blow out the candle, she puts it out between her index and thumb, then smashes the cake against the face of the boy closest to her.

Turns out, she hated this kind of stuff and they got it anyway, just to mess with her. Good times.

(I teach at a bilingual school in Mexico. One day the English staff gets this notice:)

Notice: “Parents will be visiting campus on Friday. Please remember to wear pants.”

(As it turns out, they were reminding us not to wear jeans.)

(My friend and I are traveling together through Mexico. We are sitting in an outdoor cafe on a square in a beautiful Mexican city when I am approached by a young woman. She engages me in conversation. I am nervous. She does not speak English, and I only speak basic high school Spanish, so the conversation is going slowly.)

Woman: “¿Cómo te llamas?”

Me: “¿Me llamo [My Name], y tú?”

Woman: “Gabriela… ¿Y cuantos años tienes?”

Me: “Tengo 23 anos.”

(She leaves quickly. My friend starts laughing.)

Me: “What did I say?”

Friend: “You told her you have 23 a**holes.”

(I teach advanced classes at a fine arts school. The building is old, and it shows, but since it’s state property, it takes loads and loads of paperwork to get anything fixed. We’re left with buzzing lamps, cracked walls, and mirror-smooth floors and stairs with no friction whatsoever. One day, as I walk to the classroom, I find one of my students sprawled across the stairs, not moving.)

Me: “Oh, God! [Student], are you okay?!”

Student: “Yeah, doc, I’m fine. Just thinking, y’know? This place has been here for quite a while… Imagine how many scholars and artists walked on these stairs, how many other people must have been here before them, paving the way for us…”

Me: “You slipped and fell, didn’t you?”

Student: “I slipped and fell, doc. And it really hurts, so I’m just chillin’ until it passes.”