A new Italian cafe has opened not far from where I live — a fifteen-minute walk — and I decide to check it out by myself for breakfast. When I get there, I see that there aren’t many smaller tables; the ones they do have are filled and there’re only large tables left. It’s the type of place that does table service, and the woman working on the door directs me to a six-seater.

About five minutes later, a family of five comes in. They look around in dismay to notice that there’re hardly any free large tables; they all have one or two people sitting at them like I am. Because the table I’m at is right near the entry, I can hear their conversation as they debate whether they should leave.

I haven’t ordered yet, and I decide that this won’t do; I’m a single person and they’re a family who have come out for a nice breakfast. So, I get up and tell them that they can take my table — where there’s more than enough room for them — and that I’ll find somewhere else. The family looks shocked, and the mother thanks me twice. The staff asks if I will be okay sitting at one of the bench-seat-style tables — one has another lone person at one end, so I would be at the other — and I say yes. I’m sat and served a coffee and rather delicious bruschetta, with the staff alternating between thanking me for moving and apologising for the inconvenience of moving. Before I pay and leave, the woman from the family runs up to me and thanks me, again.

Seriously, do people not do nice things for others anymore? Moving tables as a single person isn’t a huge deal, especially when you’re given a huge one, but the staff and family acted like I’d done this massive thing for them. To me, it seemed like the sensible — and right — thing to do. Why would a single person need a six-seater, anyway?

Our store is located in a slightly rough area, so we get quite a few shoplifters. We know the type by now and tend to keep an eye out.

We only have four staff members in and I’m getting my till cashed up, which requires me and a manager. After signing my paperwork, I leave the office, pick up my go-backs from my till, and head to put them back.

I clock a guy putting a bottle of whisky into his backpack. Instead of confronting him, I simply wait for him to turn around. When he does, he sees me, eyebrows raised, prompting him to turn back around and put the bottle back. He then pulls out a second bottle that I didn’t even know about.

He got his bag checked and a ban from the store.

We are in the middle of a global health crisis. The office is set up a little strangely: worker bees downstairs and upper management upstairs in offices rented by another company. We sublease about three offices upstairs. No one, and I mean no one upstairs wears a mask despite there being a mask mandate in place.

My boss decides to force us back into the office around late July because he is lonely and misses talking to people. Therefore, my manager makes a fuss about getting a thermometer and taking our temperatures when we come into the office. But don’t worry! We have a rotating schedule! That I have to watch. Meaning the same person is in the office as multiple shifts come in, one hundred percent defeating any purpose of a rotating schedule. Masks are, of course, optional to her, so I set a policy saying we have to wear masks.

Fast forward to late August; someone upstairs gets sick. You would think that would mean neither of my bosses would come downstairs and instead would self-isolate, right? Wrong! My manager calls and informs me that she is picking up the thermometer for her own personal use because she is feeling ill and then comes in without a mask on.

This is rinsed and repeated each month from September to February. Each time, my manager is aware of it and comes down to swipe the thermometer — while people are in the office — without her mask on. Each time, I wonder if she is maybe going to learn her lesson to have people work from home again. I mention it to her several times and she thinks that because we are all young and healthy, we should be fine! Both of the bosses are in their sixties and all of us have roommates who work in retail.

I can’t wait until she gets someone down here sick and they sue, because quite a few of them have mentioned it. I am also sure many of us would’ve found a new job by now if it wasn’t for the crisis.

One day, my manager tells me we’re getting back into the office again after telling me how she went out to lunch with someone waiting on a test because they were symptomatic. That day, I sign up for the vaccine trial. I am still double-masking and keeping my distance out of respect for my coworkers, but I feel relieved having fully been vaccinated with antibodies since September.

This entire thing really shows who is a thoughtful, caring individual, and who is a selfish jerk.

One company that I contract with has an app that must be used for scheduling. The downside to this is that when the app is used to call the customer, they now have your cell phone number.

I can’t use an office phone, so I got a prepaid “burner” phone with no ties to me or my name, even with a different area code from where I live.

The phone doesn’t ring; it’s only used for outbound calls and the ringer is on vibrate. 

Tonight, I was sitting at my desk doing paperwork and the phone started to vibe. Odd.

I answered it and a woman announced that she was calling to save me money on my car insurance. Uh-huh.

I lowered my voice — and I’ve already got a deep voice — and said, “You’ve called a drug dealer’s burner phone. Do you really want to do this?”

She hung up. I must remember that one!

Since we can’t have a regular Christmas party this year, corporate lets us choose between four dinner packages for two people which will be delivered to our homes. My package arrives and the courier is wearing a three-piece suit, the bag is on a tray, and it’s presented with a flourish. It’s a lovely start, and I mean that sincerely.

Looking over the instructions and unpacking all the items, I notice that there are two starter boxes, two main boxes, and one dessert box. Some of my coworkers received their package earlier and shared pictures, but since they picked different menus, it’s impossible to compare whether mine is complete.

My eye is caught by a line and picture that instructs me to put decorative edible flowers on the dessert. My package contains only one! This adds to my suspicions, but on the other hand, the dessert box looks a bit much for one person.

I end up calling the caterer since, if my package is incomplete, the driver is still nearby, and if it’s complete, I’ll know how to serve it.

I’m told I should indeed have one box for dessert. Only the decoration is incomplete. I thank them, wish them happy holidays, and am fully satisfied.

A few hours later, my doorbell rings. The caterer has brought an entire bouquet of flowers as an apology! I thank them twenty times over and emphasize that this was really not needed. For the next few days, I can’t stop smiling whenever I see the bouquet just for the sheer overstatement.

This story is part of our Feel Good roundup for March 2021!

Read the next Feel Good roundup for March 2021 story!

Read the Feel Good roundup for March 2021!