(I just had jaw surgery, so I am in the hospital for a few days with a swollen face, and my jaw is wired shut. I really can’t speak. I wake up in the middle of the night. My sister is sleeping in the guest chair, but I can feel the pain easing in on my face, so I decide to hail the nurse using a button on the side of the bed. Instead of the nurse coming to see what I need, she proceeds to use the speaker attachment. You can probably see where this is going.)

Nurse: “Hello, honey, what do you need?”

Me: “…”

Nurse: “What do you need?”

Me: *internal screaming*

(They did eventually come.)

As part of my very extensive job description, I do “additional” tech support on home safety devices; that is, I am not the priority call-taker. I help out as best as I can when needed.

One afternoon, this lady called in through our reception line instead of the help line to get help on her devices. The receptionist tried to get her information to either have someone help her out or call her back. She categorically refused to give a name, completely upset at the question. She now demanded to speak to a supervisor.

Again, the receptionist asked for a name to give to the supervisor, very politely. This time the lady lost it and started berating the receptionist. Being too polite to the customer, and knowing that I’m good at helping people, the receptionist walked over to my desk — halfway to the other end of the building — and put the cordless headset on my head, making a face that plainly said, “This one is yours; nice knowing you.” So, I introduced myself and asked how I might help.

Because it was a cordless headset, I walked back toward reception while talking just to make sure I didn’t lose the connection. After about 20 minutes of information for her products and additional info not related directly to our products — including deducing when her house was built and other features about it — she decided she wanted to talk to my manager, though she was in a good mood and thankful for my details. I “warm” transferred her to my manager after a brief recount of my conversation.

After having a quick chat with the receptionist and a bit of a laugh that the lady did not want to share even a pseudonym, I walked back to my desk. As I proceeded past my manager’s office, I heard her state to the lady, “I’m sure he’d be honoured, but he can’t do that. He’s a married father of three, and pretty loyal to his wife.” I burst out laughing.

It turned out she had a daughter in her 20s looking for a good man, and the lady was so impressed by my information, she thought I’d make a great son-in-law.

Since that night, my wife teases me about having a potential new mother-in-law.

(My dad and I are grabbing a shopping cart before we head into the grocery store. These carts have a slot to insert a quarter, so that they can be unhooked. It’s to prevent the carts from being stuck out in the parking lot, usually. I overhear an elderly man say, referring to these carts:)

Old Man: “What’s next? They’re going to get us to pay for shopping here, too?”

(I fix computers and electronics at a small-town electronics shop, in what is a pretty touristy town in the summer. In the winter the lake is frozen over and the tourists tend to stay home. It is currently the middle of winter, and well below freezing. My manager walks over.)

Manager: “Hey, you have a lot of experience working with small things; do you think you could fix this?”

(I look up to see a ten- to twelve-year-old girl peeking over my counter, and my manager hands me a pair of swim goggles with the nose-piece in the center unclipped from both eye cups.)

Me: “Uh… Sure? I can take a look?”

Manager: “I tried to get them back together, but my fingers just can’t work with something that small.”

(I manage to get the nose piece snapped back onto the eye cups, fixing the swimming goggles.)

Me: “Here you go.”

(My manager hands them back to the little girl, who whispers something to my manager and hands her something I can’t see. The little girl runs off happily.)

Manager: “You get a treat!”

(She hands me a small chocolate bar that the girl has given her to give me.)

Me: “Uh, thanks?”

Manager: “She couldn’t figure out why her mother sent her here to get those fixed. I guess because it’s difficult.”

(I was left very touched by the little girl sharing her treat, but very confused why she was sent to an electronics store to get swim goggles fixed… and wondering where she was going to go swimming in the frozen-over lake.)

(I work for a popular ice cream shop. One evening an older woman comes into the shop.)

Me: “Hi, how are you today?”

Customer: “Good, thank you. I’m wondering if you have any ice cream that is sugar-free; I’m diabetic.”

Me: “Of course. We have a vanilla that is sugar-free.”

Customer: “Oh, is that the only one?”

Me: “Let’s double-check.”

(I walk around to the front of the ice cream display, as there are cards with the ingredients for customers to read. After double-checking, I answer her question.)

Me: “My apologies; vanilla is the only sugar-free flavour we have right now.”

Customer: “That’s okay. I suppose vanilla would be okay… or I could throw caution to the wind and treat myself.”

Me: *laughs* “That is always an option.”

(We spend a few minutes small-talking about life. I realize I need to start closing the store, so I try to steer the conversation back to ice cream, since she hasn’t actually ordered.)

Me: “Have you decided which flavour you would like?”

Customer: “I think I will get the sugar-free vanilla.”

Me: “Great, let me get that for you.”

(I try to pass her to go behind the counter.)

Customer: “Are you required to try everything in the store?”

Me: “It’s recommended that we sample the ice cream and the chocolates that are on display; that way we can best recommend or give an accurate description of the flavours.”

Customer: *smirks, reaches out to touch me, and places her hand on my stomach* “I can tell you have; looks like someone has been indulging while working here.” *proceeds to jiggle my stomach*

Me: *smile quickly fades away* “I’ll get your ice cream.”

(I got her ice cream and said goodnight as she happily skipped out the store with her cone. I happily never saw her again.)