I live relatively close to Canobie (Can-oh-bee) Lake Park in New Hampshire. I work in the same town it’s in, so during the summer months, it’s not uncommon to hear customers mention it.
One little girl is a bit more memorable than most. She’s about six, energetic without being a nuisance, and very excited, because apparently, she’s having a big day.
Girl: “And then we’re going to Cannibal Lake!”
I work in a restaurant. One of our older regulars is a veteran and has a pit bull therapy dog. He’s a fully-certified service dog with a vest and everything. Normally, this is not a problem, as most of us are pit bull lovers, but we recently hired an employee who thinks she can boss the rest of us around, especially me, even though I’ve been there longer. She’s in the front one day when the regular and his dog come in for lunch.
Coworker: “Sir, we don’t allow dogs here!”
Me: “It’s a service dog, [Coworker]. I’m sorry, sir. Ham and cheese, extra onions and jalapeños?”
Coworker: “No, they need to leave. This is a restaurant, not a dog park. Please go, sir.”
Me: “[Coworker]! You’re being rude! We absolutely do allow service dogs here.”
Coworker: “But it’s a pit bull! They’re vicious!”
Me: “Not [Dog]. He’s very friendly and sweet. He’s also well-behaved and hasn’t bitten anyone here.”
Coworker: “It’s a stupid dog!”
My manager pokes her head out of her office.
Manager: “[Coworker], stop that right now. Leave them be. He’s a good dog and has a nice owner. I’m sorry, Mr. [Customer]. Your lunch will be discounted today. [My Name], give him a discount. [Coworker], I need to see you when your shift is over.”
She got a verbal warning, and she has been fake-polite to the regular customer and his dog since, but she still gives him dirty looks when his back is turned.
It’s seven in the morning on a Tuesday — a generally uneventful day. It’s just me and my boss and a beer vendor. I am watching a strange person pressing their face against every glass door of the cooler where we keep the beer. They eventually reach the cooler door where my boss and the vendor are talking. My boss looks at them awkwardly.
Customer: “Hey, got any good beer suggestions?”
Boss: “Yes.” *Points to a four-pack*
Customer: “Thank you.”
The customer turns toward where I am standing, smiling behind the counter, patiently waiting to assist them. They say “hello” to me as they start slowly trying to stuff the four-pack up the bottom of their jacket.
Customer: “I’m just gonna…”
He grabs a free newspaper and starts heading for the door.
Me: *Absolutely flabbergasted* “Uh, excuse me. Are you going to pay for that?”
Customer: “No.” *Continues walking very casually*
After wrapping my head around what has just happened, I tell my boss and we begin to hoof it down the main street after this person. After my kind words are unable to get our beer back from them, my boss makes a threat to call the cops, and our beer is retrieved. As my boss and I walk back to work, he exclaims:
Boss: “On a Tuesday morning… Jesus!”
One year, while visiting a famous motorcycle rally in New Hampshire, my wife (in a disability scooter) was trying to cross a road protected by a crossing guard. Every time it was the pedestrians’ turn, my wife would be surrounded by people crossing the road, preventing her from crossing. You become invisible on a scooter for some reason.
This happened for a few cycles.
Then, Biker Dude appeared. He was the personification of a 1% club member — big, bearded, inked with leather and chains, and triple-patched. He was the real deal. He leaned down to my wife, yelling over the noise of all the motorcycles.
Biker Dude: “DO YOU NEED HELP, MA’AM?”
Wife: *Slightly scared* “Uh-huh.”
The next time it was the pedestrians’ turn to cross the road, Biker Dude stood up and bellowed:
Biker Dude: “ALL YOU F***ERS NEED TO LET THIS LADY CROSS!”
Leaning down, he softly said, “Please follow me, ma’am,” and off he went like an icebreaker dressed in leather and chains in the Arctic clearing a path for my wife, on her scooter, following closely behind.
On the other side, the man leaned down again and softly asked:
Biker Dude: “Do you need anything else, ma’am?”
Wife: *In awe* “Uh-uh.”
Biker Dude: “You have a nice day.”
And off Biker Dude disappeared into the crowd.
NEVER judge a book by its cover.
This story is part of our end-of-year Feel Good roundup for 2022!
Read the next Feel Good 2022 story!
Read the Feel Good 2022 roundup!
CONTENT WARNING: Animal Cruelty
My coworker and I are taking turns assisting customers with fish. A fun fact: customers don’t know fish. They’d be willing to throw a goldfish in a gallon tank if we let them. My coworker approaches me.
Coworker: “These people are trying to get fish without having their tank cycled or anything. I told them they should wait at least a day, but just a heads-up in case they ask you.”
Me: “Okay, thank you.”
Sure enough, they come to the registers and the customer continues complaining to my coworker.
Customer: “So, we can leave the tank waiting until after supper?”
Coworker: “It’s really best to wait at least a couple of days.”
Customer: “We’ll be back later.”
It’s obvious she wants to come back when my coworker and I are gone.
A few hours later, she comes back. My coworker has gone and I am in the last hour of my shift. We informed our manager earlier on.
Customer: “I’d like to get some fish.”
I go back and inform my manager, as earlier the customer told her grandson he could get eight fish for a ten-gallon tank, which I wasn’t going to do and I wanted a witness.
I walk over to the tanks and explain to her that I can’t sell her eight tetras; I can sell her at most three.
Customer: “It said on the box that we could get ten fish!”
Me: “That’s actually the gallons, and unfortunately, these fish grow to about three inches, meaning I can’t sell you eight; it’s cruel to the fish.”
She turns to her grandson.
Customer: “You can only get three fish.”
Grandson: “Why?”
Customer: “Because apparently, we’re living in the Soviet Union.”
Grandson: “But we can come back and get the other five tomorrow, right?”
Customer: “Of course.”
They got their fish and left. I told my manager what their plan was so they could keep a lookout. She came back at least two times to get replacement fish because the ones she had continued dying.
Please listen to employees who work with the animals in question. We want what’s best for them!
