There is a restaurant right behind my office. The food is generally good but the service has gotten slower and slower. During the health crisis, when they offered curbside service, I’d order from there about every other week. They have three different chicken salads, one of which I am gaga for.

Once restrictions started to be lifted, my kids swung by my office as I was getting ready to go and suggested we eat out. I suggested the restaurant behind the office so that none of us had to worry about driving or parking.

We got there to find only five tables filled. We were seated and proceeded to order our drinks. Once the drinks got there, we were ready to order, but the waitress almost danced off, saying:

Waitress: “I’ll give you a minute.”

Me: “No, we’re ready.”

Waitress: “Oh, okay. What would you like?”

My son ordered something, I ordered something for my daughter (who doesn’t speak), and then I ordered my favorite chicken salad as a wrap.

Waitress: “Is that on the back of the menu?”

Me: “No, it is right here.”

I pointed to the center of the inside page showing this chicken salad wrap with one side.

Waitress: “Oh, okay.”

She started to walk off.

Me: “I’d like the fries for the side.”

Waitress: “The side?”

Me: *Pointing again* “Yes, it says it comes with one side.”

Waitress: “Oh, okay.”

She took the menus and left. My son and I chatted. My daughter and I went to the restroom. We returned and chatted some more. And some more.

After fifty minutes, my son’s meal was brought out (soup and salad). After another five minutes, my daughter’s was served (mac and cheese). A few minutes after that, the waitress came and put a plate before me.

Waitress: “Is this what you wanted?”

But she left before I could even turn the plate around to see what was inside the wrap. It was NOT what I wanted. It was not chicken salad at all. It was a breaded piece of chicken, wrapped in a tortilla. There was nothing in the tortilla but this chicken puck.

I was hungry and am not a picky eater so I figured it would just have to do. I took a bite, though, and realized it would NOT do. It was hard, cold, and dry. It was disgusting. I put it down and nibbled the fries and drank the soda.  

When my daughter’s soda went empty (long after mine did), the waitress returned.

Waitress: “How is everything?”

Me: “This isn’t what I ordered and not even edible. Please remove it from the bill.”

Waitress: “Oh, I’m sorry. I can bring you something else.”

Me: “No, thank you. Just remove it from the bill.”

Waitress: “I can get you something else.”

I just pointed at my watch and again said, “No, thank you.” She disappeared for about fifteen minutes and finally came back with the bill.

Shortly after, the chef came out.

Chef: “You wanted the chicken salad wrap, didn’t you?”

Me: “Yes. This wasn’t that.”

Chef: “But that’s what you wanted?”

Me: “Yes, but I don’t want it now.”

By now, it was almost eight and I just wanted to go home and make myself dinner

Chef: “Okay.”

I looked at the bill. It clearly said, “[Menu Name for the chicken salad wrap],” and showed that I was being charged the $15-ish for the meal.

I looked for the waitress and didn’t see her. I put my credit card away, pulled out cash, and laid down only exactly enough for my son’s meal, my daughter’s meal, our drinks, and a side of fries, right down to the penny, and left.

It’s been months and I haven’t been back or ordered to-go since.

My company hired a young man who took a desk near mine. He’s very personable and easy to talk with. One day, I’m called in to the boss’s office.

Boss: “[Coworker #1] was six hours overdue with what he was supposed to get done. He said you were distracting him by talking. Were you doing that?”

Me: “He’s a nice guy and we exchange some small talk now and then, but not six hours of it. Besides, I have my own work and I got it done.”

Boss: “Yeah, I guess that wouldn’t account for six hours.”

Me: “No, but I’ll watch that any talk doesn’t get out of control.”

Fast forward many months. We move to a new office and I am no longer near [Coworker #1]. Then, I wind up in the hospital, and when I return to work, I am buried. Finally, things slow down. I need to stretch, so I go to visit another coworker. It is a Friday and numerous employees take off alternate Fridays, so there are only a few people in the office. I look at the empty desk that I know belongs to [Coworker #1].

Me: “Where’s [Coworker #1]?”

Coworker #2: “We fired him a couple of months ago.”

Me: “Seriously?! Wow! I’ve really been out of it the last couple of months. Why was he fired?”

Coworker #2: “He was too slow. He was taking hours and days to do things that should take minutes.”

Me: “Back when he first started, he threw me under the bus. He blamed me for delaying him six hours on a project.”

Coworker #2: “Yeah. I’m not surprised. It was always someone else’s fault.”

But, seriously, despite an illness, how did I manage to not notice someone gone out of an office of only a dozen people?

This happens when I’m around fifteen. My family is looking to move into a new house and are looking at some options. We’re looking over a lovely house in the country that has a fantastic view of a nearby river. Despite the fact that it would have very poor Internet and the river has been known to flood, my mom seems to be warming up to it.

Suddenly, though, we round a corner of the house and she SHRIEKS and simultaneously jumps about ten feet backward while shoving me forward. We all look at her like she’s lost her mind.

Her defense?

Mom: “I just saw a huge snake!”

So much for parental protection instincts!

I have just finished hanging out with my sister and am heading home. On one of the busiest streets in our town — four lanes each way and major traffic — my dashboard lights flash twice and then my entire car dies. I’m in the middle lane and I’m driving a VW bug, so I’m instantly terrified that someone will hit me.

I turn on the hazards and start to call AAA and let them know that I’m sitting in the middle of the road and need help. They tell me that they will have someone to me within an hour and I should get out of the car in case it gets hit.

I hang up and think I should do that since everyone is racing past, not stopping at all, until this huge lifted truck pulls up behind me. The driver hops out; he is dressed in camo from head to toe and just huge. When I open my door (because the window won’t work) he asks if I need help. I tell him I’ve got AAA coming but it will be like an hour.

He shrugs, whistles, and gets his three sons out of the truck.

Driver: “Well, we don’t want you to wait that long — it’s not safe — so we’ll just get you out of the way of traffic, okay?”

Before I could answer, he had his sons around my car, and then he walked back to the truck. They pushed me into the shopping center parking lot (with the truck blocking the traffic) and then stayed with me until AAA could get there.

They were on their way out of town, and they stopped and did what no one else would do, and to this day, years later, it still makes me smile.

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!

I worked the desk at a hotel for several years, mostly as a night auditor, but for a while, I was on the second shift, 3:00 pm to 11:00 pm. One night, I am working this shift with just my assistant manager. We are short-staffed, but it is a slow winter night, anyway.

A man and his girlfriend come in the front door and ask to rent a room. Everything goes as normal until it comes to payment.

Guest: “My workplace is paying for it.”

I groan internally. This isn’t uncommon, but there are procedures to get such a thing done that always include the reservation being made in advance, for the simple fact that we can’t charge a card that isn’t physically here without some paperwork behind it.

Me: “I’m sorry, sir, but your company would have had to set this up ahead of time if that were the case. Do you mean you’re using a company card?”

Guest: “Yes, here.”

At first, I’m relieved, but then I look at the card he handed me, bewildered. It’s some sort of ID that I’m not familiar with, possibly an employment ID, but it’s not any sort of payment card.

Me: “Sir, this isn’t a payment card. I can’t use this.”

Guest: *Indignantly* “My company has a deal with hotels where you enter that number on the card into the system and then it will bill them! Every hotel has this! Are you stupid?”

I just toss my manager a confused look, but even though I haven’t been working there a year, I know this can’t be right. Our system has designated fields for everything. If you put a number into a field that it doesn’t belong in, it won’t just accept it; it will tell you it’s invalid, and there is definitely no field for the long string of numbers on the bottom corner of the ID.

Me: “Sir, the system doesn’t work that way. There is no way to enter this number, and I can’t rent you a room without some sort of payment.”

Guest: “You just enter it! God, you’re stupid! You don’t even know how to do your own job!”

Me: “Sir, I’m sorry, but I know my job perfectly well, and there is no field that this number can be entered into. We don’t have any sort of contract like the one you’re mentioning. We have certain rates for certain businesses, and some have ways to set up reservations ahead of time, but—”

Guest: *Now irate* “Just enter the number! I’ve never had this happen before! Why won’t you do your job?!”

I’m now fully over it and I just slide the card back across my desk.

Me: “I am. If you want to rent a room, you will need a payment card. This is not a payment card.”

He begins to gather up his things, but he’s still indignant.

Guest: “I’m going to complain to your manager! This is ridiculous!”

I hook a thumb at the other check-in counter.

Me: “She’s right there.”

The guest pauses for a long moment, staring at my manager giving him a little wave, and then draws himself up to his full height for his parting shot.

Guest: “You should really train your people to know how to do their job!”

And with that, he storms out to the other hotel across the street, clearly planning to try his luck there. I look back at my manager exasperatedly and she just shrugs.

Manager: “Don’t worry, you did great. I don’t know what the f*** he was talking about, either.”