(I am working in the lot at the grocery store, gathering carriages. I have a sore spot for people who leave their carts in random spots — handicapped people and the elderly excluded for obvious reasons. I notice a man putting his cart in the handicap unloading zone, the yellow striped line area for wheelchair ramps and elevators.)

Me: “Sir, in the future, please place your carriage in the designated area.”

Customer #1: “Okay.”

(He and a nearby customer then proceed to mock me.)

Customer #2: *pointing at another carriage* “Look. Another carriage! We have to find out who put it there!”

Customer #1: “We got ourselves a parking lot attendant or something!”

Me: “Sir, I’m just asking you to do that so that other people can park without risk of running into them or having them blown into cars.”

Customer #1: “Nobody’s going to park where I put it.”

Me: *getting fed up with these two* “We let people park there if there are no other spaces, and you still shouldn’t place the cart there.”

(The place is blocked off so handicap people with ramps or elevators have space to get out.)

Customer #2: “Why do you care so much? Just do your job!”

(They continue to mock me, at which point I lose my patience.)

Me: “Don’t quit your day job to become a comedian.”

Customer #2: *suddenly angry* “What did you say?! So, you wanna be a smart-mouthed punk, huh?!” *which is how he’d been acting, ironically* “You know, let’s go talk to your manager! How about that?!”

Me: *a little nervous but keeping my cool* “Okay.”

Customer #2: “What’s your name?” *looks at my name tag* “[My Name], two years, huh? Well, you aren’t gonna make three!” 

(He then drove off, and thankfully, my manager never got a call.)

(I play Dungeons & Dragons with my friends every week. Tonight, we’re meeting at my house. The group consists of four boys and me, a lesbian. I am out to my friends but not to my mom. After the game is over and the boys are gone, my mom comes in to talk to me.)

Mom: “Your friends are really nice.”

Me: “Yeah, they’re cool.”

Mom: “Why aren’t you dating one of them?”

Me: “Uh…”

Mom: “What about [Friend #1]? He’s so charming.”

Me: “He’s also four years younger than me.”

Mom: “So? He’s mature for his age.”

Me: “I’m 23. I’m not dating a 19-year-old. Also, I just don’t like him that way.”

Mom: “What about the others?”

Me: “[Friend #2] is gay, [Friend #3] is engaged, and [Friend #4] is dating my best friend.”

(She continued to make those comments every time this group of boys came over. A few months later, I actually did come out to her and she was not as warm about it as I’d hoped. I started dating a girl who was 20 years old and my mom frequently made comments about how she was too young for me. This happened over six months ago and she still tries to set me up with my guy friends.)

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(I work at an elementary school. I am talking to one of my students at recess and the conversation turns to the local hockey team.)

Student: “My grandma’s boyfriend used to play for [Local Hockey Team].” 

Me: “Really? That’s so cool!”

Student: “Yeah, except now he plays for [Different Team]. Well, he’s not really her boyfriend. They’re dating, but they’re not official. They’re waiting until he leaves his wife. He doesn’t want to divorce her yet because they have two daughters and he wants to wait until they’re eighteen. If he breaks up with her now then she’ll go crazy and blame it on him. So they’re not official yet.”

Me: “Um… That’s nice.”

I work at a public elementary school in an area characterized by opioid addiction and homelessness. I am working closely with one particular student who I know is experiencing homelessness. He lives alone with his mother, who is neglectful and borderline abusive. Whenever he says something about it I send in a report, but there’s nothing I can do beyond that. The school social worker visits their home regularly and is working with his mother on being more present, but I don’t know if that helped at all.

Additionally, though he doesn’t have an official diagnosis, he shows many characteristics of autism and is frequently bullied by his classmates. We have been working together all school year on social-emotional health, finding ways to control his temper and articulate his emotional needs. He has been making incredible progress all year.

For one of our sessions, I decide to play a text-based computer game with him that simulates living in poverty. You have to balance work, rent, health emergencies, and other situations on a very limited budget. In the game, you have a child, and various scenarios regarding your child appear throughout the game; for example, your child is in a play, and you have to choose between going to the play and accepting an extra shift at work for some bonus money.

My student chooses the options that would best benefit the child, every. Single. Time. Even if it costs more money than he can realistically afford, he is so invested that he wants his imaginary child to have the best life possible. When we finish the game, he turns to me and says, “I’m a good dad.”

I still get choked up thinking about this child who had every reason to be angry at the world, but still chose kindness every. Single. Time.

(My grandparents are riding their bicycles and the path goes over a stream. My grandma’s front wheel catches on a rut and she goes over the handlebars. She ends up rolling down the embankment of the stream, and if it wasn’t for the help of an elderly couple nearby, she would have rolled into the water. As soon as they make sure my grandma is safe, the man turns to his wife and says:)

Man: “See, [Wife]? Women are still falling for me.”