(The store I work in eliminated baggers about eight years ago. Since then, the cashiers put the customer’s items into the bags, and then customers put them into their cart on their own. We’ll help only if the customer is older or unable to load the bags on their own.  Our store is also in the middle of a major remodel. This is a healthy customer in her mid-forties.)

Me: “Do you have any coupons or bottle slips?”

Customer: “No. So, what are they actually doing with all this construction?”

Me: “Well, they just finished expanding the pharmacy and moving the drive-thru around to the front of the store. And now, they’re redoing the floors and moving things around to their new locations.”

(By this time she’s paid and is just standing by her cart.)

Customer: “I was told last time I was in that they had finished the pharmacy, and now you’re telling me that they’re just now finishing it? Get your story straight. And I guess that now we have to load our own bags?”

(She grabs her two bags, leaving a fifteen-pound bag of dog food to be loaded. I ignore her comment, since it has literally been years since we’ve had baggers, and I know that it will make her angry if I point that out.)

Customer: “Hello? Did you hear me? Are you making me put my own things in the cart now?”

(She just stood there, expecting me to help her with what she’d already gotten in and out of her cart once. I loaded the dog food simply to keep the peace. Luckily, my coworkers thought she was crazy, too, when I told them the story later!)

(I work at an assisted living facility. I’m sitting at my desk, typing up the next day’s menu as I talk to a coworker.)

Me: “Why do I always have to put ‘with dressing’ when we have a salad? Are we forcing residents to have dressing or no salad for you?”

Coworker: “Well, what else would you put on it?”

Me: “The blood of my enemies.”

Coworker: “I thought you were vegetarian?”

Me: “I’d make an exception.”

(I’m working at the front desk of an assisted living facility, and a visitor comes up to speak with me. He has a very imperious tone throughout.)

Visitor: “Will there be someone here at 8:00 sharp tomorrow morning to open these doors?”

Me: “Yes. Actually, I will be here tomorrow. I will be here at 8:00, probably a few minutes earlier.”

Visitor: “But someone will be here right at 8:00 am? So I can get in to get my father for his appointment?”

Me: “Yes. I will be at this desk to open the doors at 8:00 am.”

Visitor: “You’re positive someone will be here at 8:00 in the morning to open the doors.”

Me: “Yes. I will be here at 8:00 tomorrow morning. I promise.” *starting to mentally lose my cool*

Visitor: *irritated sigh* “There had better be someone to let me in at 8:00 tomorrow morning.”

Me: *stares as he stomps off*

(True to my word, I am at my desk at 7:58 am. Eight hits and there’s no visitor. I shrug and get on with my work. At 8:45 am, he walks through the door.)

Me: “Oh, hello! I thought you were going to be here at 8:00 this morning.”

Visitor: “I changed his appointment time. I didn’t think anyone would be here.”

Me: *loses faith in humanity*

I had a doctor’s appointment because I have depression. My life is currently pretty bad, as I am unemployed, without a car, and am basically mooching off my parents — who have split, mind you — for money. It’s a rainy, very gray day. I’m staying at my aunt and uncle’s house, and I haven’t eaten anything since breakfast. I’m hungry but won’t eat anything just because I don’t feel like it and I think of it as imposing on my aunt and uncle.

So, I have enough money to get the bus to go to the doctor, and my stomach is feeling incredibly empty. I’m absolutely regretting having not gotten something to eat because of my own stupidity and start thinking that maybe things would be better if I was dead. In other words, I am having a major depressive episode. I signal to get off the bus, only the stop I get off at is a short walk from the one in front of the doctor’s office, the one I had wanted to get off at. I’m now walking in the rain, mentally berating myself for having screwed up, when a guy comes by on his bike.

He’s got a pizza box and asks if I’m hungry. My first instinct is to say no, but then I stop and say yes. I take one slice of pizza and eat away, turning down his offer for more out of mere politeness. He even offers me the whole box but I still say no. One slice is enough. The guy informs me that he has done his good deed for the day and says, “God bless,” before riding off on his bike.

That guy completely changed me. That one man who offered me pizza when I was starving and feeling like my life wasn’t worth living gave me something precious: hope. He cared enough to make sure someone like me got something to eat because it was the right thing to do. Even now, thinking about it, I feel like crying that anyone could care that much as to help a random stranger at a bus stop. I’ve never seen this guy again, but I will always remember Pizza Bike Guy, who might have saved my life with one selfless act.

While I was working at a grocery store, I was asked if we had any pasta in the shape of Ms, the letter associated with the wildly popular local college football team.

I responded, “I’m sorry, all we have are Ws.”

She walked away sadly.