My husband found out the other day from his sister that several of his siblings had presented their parents with a memorial plaque for their anniversary. My husband was never asked to contribute, which is unusual for this group; typically everyone is asked to pass the hat.

He asked [Sister-In-Law] how much the plaque cost and said that he wanted to contribute to it after the fact. This is when [Sister-In-Law] started getting cagey, dodging the question, and finally telling my husband to “pay it forward.”

Husband: “‘Pay it forward’ is for drive-thrus. How much did the plaque cost?”

Again, she refused to say. She finally told him:

Sister-In-Law: “Just pay me $25 to $30.”

Husband: “No, I’ll determine what my share is after knowing the final amount.”

Again, she refused to answer, insisting that he should pay her $25 to $30 to “pay it forward”.

I contacted another in-law of mine, who is married to my husband’s brother, and told her the situation. She asked her husband and found out that [Sister-In-Law] had nothing to do with the plaque and hadn’t spent any money on it at all. Another sibling had bought the plaque without any outside contribution.

So, basically, [Sister-In-Law] had seized the opportunity to try to grift off my husband.

[Sister-In-Law] is an anti-vaxxer, so in response, my husband made a donation in her name to a pro-vaccine charity and sent her a text to let her know exactly how he’d “paid it forward”. She’s now also signed up for multiple vaccine charity mailing lists.

One very hot summer afternoon, I was driving south on a major interstate highway. About forty miles from home, ten miles from the intersection with another interstate, I saw a car with flashers on, and a few hundred yards beyond it was a man walking.

I pulled over to see if there was anything I could do to help.

Stranger: “I ran out of gas. I’m from [Other State], but I saw on a map that [Town] is close to where [Interstate #1] and [Interstate #2] intersect. I’m heading there to get a can of gas.”

Me: “Get in. It’s too far to be walking in this heat. I’m going that way anyway.”

I took him to a truck stop where he bought a two-gallon gas can and filled it. I sat off from the pumps to see what he was going to do next.

Just as I thought, he started off on foot with the gas.

Me: “Get in and I will take you back to your car.”

Stranger: “No. You don’t need to do that. You have helped enough already.”

Me: “You have any idea how heavy that can is going to get, shortly? And it is too hot to be walking that far. Get in.”

I took him the ten miles back to his car. Before he poured the gas into the tank, he offered to pay me for my trouble.

Me: “I won’t take your money. This is a ‘pay-it-forward’ moment. Besides, I already got paid.”

Stanger: “How is that?”

Me: “The satisfaction of helping another person.”

And with that, I waited until he got the car started before I took off home.

I work in a gas station. A bunch of little kids are outside pooling money together near the gas pumps where I am working. The gas station also sells pizza. I overhear that they’re buying slices of pizza, and they all agree to just use a pocket knife and eat a third of a piece each.

One kid needs some sort of part for his bike he’s been saving for and only needs another $20. He offers to buy everyone a piece if they try and get their parents to let him mow their yards for the money he needs.

I go in and grab a bunch of pizza, and they come in just as I am putting on the counter.

Me: “I saw you all trying to share your money.”

I leave $20 on the counter for the kid’s bike.

Me: “You get to divide it up and get your bike fixed because you offered to use your savings.”

I’ve never seen a happier group of kids. Since then, I try a few times a month or so to do something nice for someone.

About thirteen years later, I have moved on, but I swing into the same gas station as a customer to grab snacks for myself and some friends heading to the zoo. The Internet is apparently down all over town, so credit cards aren’t working, and we have almost no cash. I am pretty bummed, but stuff happens.

As I am putting stuff away, a guy offers to just pay for it all. When I politely decline, he starts laughing.

Guy: “Dude, you’re the guy!”

Me: “I’m what?”

Guy: “You’re the guy that bought us all pizza!”

It was the bike kid from years ago. He paid for the snacks, got his own, and followed us to the zoo on his motorcycle. He has a motorcycle shop now and has a spot out back where he gets junk bicycles donated to clean up and give away. He swears he’ll never have a vehicle with four wheels.

I guess he got his bike fixed. And now he has a pretty good life running a motorcycle shop and fixing/donating other kid’s bikes!

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CONTENT WARNING: Armed Robbery, Injury

When I was eighteen, I was working my first full-time job after high school in a little corner shop. The owner was a sweet old guy who believed the best in people. We were all under instruction that if the homeless guy that hung out nearby came in, no matter how little money he had, we were always to give him two sandwiches and a drink. If it was hot, we were meant to give him two big bottles of water, also. The homeless guy was a sweet man who barely spoke.

One night, as my coworker had called in sick, I was in the shop alone for about four hours before closing. The homeless guy popped in with his gentle little smile, and I was excited because I knew I had his favourite sandwiches in the case. I handed them over along with his drink, and he gave me a $10 bill — much more than the small change he usually had.

Me: “Oh, come into some cash today, [Guy]? Did you want a hot pie to go with your dinner? I’ve got a couple left!”

He grinned and nodded excitedly, pointing to the chicken pie in the warmer and happily hopping from foot to foot. I asked him if he wanted anything else.

Guy: “No. Keep it for [Owner] to make up for the days when I don’t have any money and he still feeds me. He’s a good man.”

Me: “He sure is, mate. All right, you’re all set. Enjoy your dinner!”

I went back to cleaning and filling fridges.

About an hour later, I heard the bell go off for the door. I came back up front to serve the customer, but as I rounded the corner to greet them, I found a gun being waved in my face. I was a tiny little eighteen-year-old girl and froze entirely.

Robber: “OPEN THE REGISTER RIGHT NOW AND GIVE ME EVERYTHING IN IT!”

Our owner had always told us to comply with anything robbers said; he had insurance for stuff like this, and no amount of money was worth us getting hurt. But again, I was young and terrified, and I remained frozen to the spot. The robber smashed the gun into the side of my head and I stumbled sideways into a shelf, knocking everything down. My vision went black, and my ears were ringing. I heard the gun go off twice and thought, “Oh, he’s shot me. I’m dying.”

That was the last thing I remember before coming to, being loaded into the ambulance.

Paramedic: “Hey, there she is! Do you know what happened, love? What day is it?”

I stammered my way through answering his questions before asking my own.

Me: “What happened? Did he shoot me? I can’t feel anything.”

Paramedic: “Nah, love, looks like he knocked you out cold. He was trying to shoot old mate that came in to save you, though. Scruffy older guy got the girl at the pub to call for help when he heard the shots and ran in there. He was kicking the s*** out of the guy when the coppers got here.”

The owner showed me the security video on his phone when he came to visit me in the hospital. Our homeless friend was sitting in the alcove around the corner when he heard the robber start screaming at me to open the register, and he ran in. I was already on the ground mostly unconscious by the time he got inside. Our friend jumped on the robber’s back and started absolutely wailing on him. The gun had gone off a couple of times while he wrestled it out of the robber’s hand. Apart from my bonk on the head, the only other injuries were a couple of holes on the floor, and the would-be-burglar was now short a dozen teeth.

Our homeless friend was in the paper and touted as a local hero. He got job offers, and within a few months, he was living in a little house of his own with a steady income.

This was almost ten years ago now. The corner store has long closed up shop, and the owner is enjoying his retirement, but I still see my hero at the grocery store shopping and living his life with his partner and their two little kids. I tried to thank him once and he got embarrassed and waved me off, but every time I look down at my own kids, I wonder if any of us would be here without him.

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This takes place in 2002 when I am a college student working part-time at a small video rental store. We have multiple customers who return their video tapes late and get late fees added to their accounts.

On Valentine’s Day, a gentleman comes in only ten minutes before closing.

Customer #1: “I want to rent a movie, but I have late fees that my ex-wife made on my account and I can’t afford to pay them. Is there anything you can do?”

Before I can answer him, the other customer in the store says:

Customer #2: “No problem, let me cover that for you. Us ex-husbands have to stick up for each other.”

The fees are paid by the other customer, and both men get the movies they want and leave.

About a week later, the other customer comes in again.

Customer #2: “Can we go through the outstanding accounts and pay as many late fees off as possible with this?”

He then handed me $500! It took $376 of that $500, but every single late fee was paid off, and all customer accounts were returned to good standing. Seeing the delight on customers’ faces as they came in over the next couple of months expecting to pay late fees on top of their current rental and learning their fees were paid was delightful.