I work in an ice cream shop. A middle-aged couple comes in. The husband comes right to the register while the wife lingers at the case looking at the ice cream. No big deal; they’re the only people there at the moment. The husband orders and then turns to his wife snappishly.

Husband: “Honey. Come on, it’s time to order. She’s waiting.”

The wife starts telling me what she wants. The husband speaks to me as soon as she starts speaking.

Husband: “Don’t do it. Don’t give to her.”

I ignore him and ring up their order.

Wife: “Do you ever have [random brand flavor]?”

The husband speaks again as soon as she speaks.

Husband: “Ignore her, just ignore her. She’ll never shut up if you acknowledge her!”

She and I talked about it for about a minute, because we do take customer requests on occasion. The entire time, he continued his inane little commentary about his wife’s perfectly reasonable question. Had I not been working, I may have asked if he would shut up eventually.

Keep in mind that this display of human awesomeness occurs in an upper-middle-class suburban area, where new homes start at a quarter of a million dollars. The phone rings.

Me: “Thank you for calling [Bagel Shop]. My name is [My Name]; how can I help you?”

Customer: *angry* “I need to speak to someone that can help me!”

Me: “Well, our manager doesn’t come on for another two hours; what can I do for you, sir?”

Customer: “I don’t know! Can you help me?!”

Me: “Yes, sir. What seems to be the problem?”

Customer: “I don’t know! Can you help me?”

Me: *Internal sigh* “Yes, sir. I can help you.”

Customer: “Good!”

There is a long pause.

Me: “What seems to be the problem, sir?”

Customer: “Well, I came in and bought a dozen bagels!”

I am suppressing the desire to comment, “Well, this is a bagel store.”

Me: “Yes, sir?”

Customer: “And when I got home, I only had twelve bagels!”

It is this store’s policy to sell bagels as a baker’s dozen, which is thirteen, while only charging for twelve.

Me: “Ah, yes, sir. Well, I’m sure there was some mistake—”

Customer: “You’re d*** right, there was a mistake! I need someone to help me!”

Me: “Well, sir, if you would like, we’ll give you a free dozen bagels—”

Customer: “You’re useless! I already have a dozen bagels!” *Hangs up*

Me: “…”

A customer drives up to the speaker in the drive-thru.

Customer: “Is this the Colonel Restaurant?”

I clearly am not expecting that question.

Me: “Excuse me? 

Customer: “Is this KFC?”

Me: “Um… yeah?!”

Customer: “What kind of chicken do you guys have?”

I cut off the mic for a second.

Me: “This is gonna be a long night.”

I am a math teacher at an elementary school. In the late 1980s, I had this one fourth-grader who was very brilliant but sometimes took directions a little too literally. One day, I had the class do a special math problem together after the lesson, where they not only had to show their work as usual but also provide a written explanation on the back of the worksheet detailing the purpose of each step taken to solve the problem.

While the class was working, I noticed that the brilliant kid took a little longer to solve the problem than usual. When he turned it in at the end of class, I saw why.

He had written an overly-detailed explanation explaining literally everything he had done. It was so long and detailed that he actually took up not only the whole backside of the worksheet — most students needed only little more than half — but also about a dozen lines on a sheet of notebook paper.

I laughed to myself and gave him a four — the highest score possible — because he had solved the problem correctly and, while very long, his explanation was ”technically” correct. I told him that the next time I gave him a similar problem, he only needed to explain the solution the same way that his math book explained how to solve example problems.

It’s been over thirty years, and he has since graduated from a nearby Ivy League college and gotten a career in statistics. His son now attends my school and will be in my class for the 2020-21 school year.

Last week, we received word that the local shelter had been running low on food and supplies to feed the animals there, as many had turned to the shelter for help feeling their pets during quarantine. This takes place in our local grocery store.

Old Lady: “Run me over, why don’t you! My, that’s a lot of pet stuff. I’m guessing you guys have a bunch of pets.”

We have a cart full of bags of food and litter, as well as wet food.

Me: “It’s not for us. The humane society is running low on food, so we’re donating.”

Old Lady: “Oh, well, good for you.”

Her phone rings and she wanders off.

Me: “Huh. Weird.”

A few minutes later, the lady hunts us down in the dog food aisle and shoves a $20 bill into my mom’s hand. She refuses to take it back no matter what.

Old Lady: “I have pets, too, you know.”

We used that extra money to buy kitten formula and food, as it is kitten season. Faith in humanity: restored.

This story was included in our May 2020 Inspirational Roundup.

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