I had picked up a friend, and we were on our way to another friend’s house for a day of playing assorted board games. Neither of us had had lunch, so we decided to stop at a popular sandwich place that specializes in subs to grab something.

We get in, it’s a little crowded, no big. I let my friend go first, and then I order mine.

Me: “Foot long pastrami, easy on the mayo, extra mustard, and that’s it.”

Worker: “Just meat and condiments?”

Me: “Yup. Oh, toasted, please.”

So he is fixing my sandwich. He pulls it out of the toaster oven, then goes to put the condiments on.

Me: “Easy on the mayo, heavy on the mustard.”

Worker: “Sure thing—”

As he squeezes the mustard bottle, the cap pops off, and a bottle of mustard is now coating my sandwich. The two workers are staring at it in horror. My friend and the people in line behind me are staring. Then I start laughing.

Me: “Well, I said extra mustard, and it looked like the bottle wanted to oblige! That’s a little bit much, though. Can we scrape some off?”

Woman Behind Me: “Oh, thank God, I thought you were about to go nuclear.”

Me: “Nah, it was an accident. And it was a funny accident that they can fix easily, so it’s no big deal. I used to work in food service. It sucked. You get blamed for things that aren’t your fault. I’m not doing that over some spilled mustard.”

They fixed my sandwich and then gave me a free cookie for being so chill about the entire thing. So, a pastrami sandwich and a cookie! Win for me!

CORRECTION: A typo in the story title has been corrected.

At my best friend’s birthday party, we’re playing board games and having a lively conversation. Some of the attendees are making jokes critical of the Catholic Church, but each time, my friend shushes them and gives a pointed look towards a certain woman.

Woman: “Wait, what’s up?”

My Friend: “Oh, I’m sorry, I just didn’t want them to offend you.”

Woman: “Why would that offend me?”

My Friend: “Because you’re Catholic?”

Woman: “… I’m not Catholic.”

My Friend: “But you have all that Catholic stuff in your house! You have that big painting of Jesus holding the Sacred Heart!”

The woman pauses for a very long time.

Woman: “…That’s not Jesus! That’s Carrie Fisher!”

The entire party erupts into laughter. Just when we’re finally recovering…

Woman: “…And she’s not holding a heart, it’s a French bulldog!”

Another round of laughter. And right on cue, when everyone’s catching their breath…

Woman: “…And she’s giving you the finger!”

Cue laughter, round three.

I’m driving a bus through a particular part of town known for… The oldest profession. I pull up to a bus stop, and a woman, roughly seventy, in a house dress, is getting on board, when a much younger woman wearing very little walks by.

Old Woman: *Eyeing the younger woman.* “That’s TERRIBLE! TERRIBLE! Isn’t that TERRIBLE?!”

Me: “I mean… I don’t know?”

Old Woman: “She could be at HOME making two hundred dollars a day on [adult website]! Girl, it’s DANGEROUS on these streets! Go home! Get you a webcam!”

Me: “…”

Old Woman: “Just for not agreeing with me, you don’t get any candy!”

I’m driving a regional transit bus. I pull up to a stop, and a mother and her kids get on, with the youngest in front. She’s maybe five or six, with a very serious look on her face.

The child steps up to the fare box, which is significantly taller than she, and holds up a transfer card. It’s expired and beaten up and clearly trash.

Mom: “Oh, she grabbed that off the bench, go ahead and ignore that.”

I take her transfer and stick it in the machine. The machine gives the beep that means it can’t read the card. I give her a thumbs up and say:

Me: “You did it!”

The child solemnly nods and walks to a seat.

The mom thanked me for humoring her, but what was I gonna do? Refuse? No way!

I’m somewhat below average height for a man. I’m 5’5” (165 cm), and at this time, I’m twenty-eight years old. I’m browsing a [Video Game Store] that has high shelves, but if I stand on my toes, I can stretch just high enough to both get games from the top and put them back. While I am in the process of stretching to reach a game, a nearby teenage girl sees me and grabs it to put into my hand.

Girl: “Here you go!”

Me: “Thanks.”

The girl is several inches taller than me but looks no older than fourteen. I spend a moment studying the game and then reach to put it back. Before I can reach high enough to replace the game, the girl has taken the game from my hand and put it back for me.

Girl: “Oh, here!”

Me: “Thank you.”

But then, it kept happening. Every time I reached for a high-shelf item, she got it for me, as well as taking my returns from my hand to replace them. She wasn’t even browsing for herself anymore. She was just watching me with a grin on her face and helping me reach for stuff. It got a little awkward, but she seemed like a sweet kid, so I let her keep doing it.

There were no words spoken between us besides her saying, “Here!”, and me thanking her. I made my selections, said goodbye to her, and checked out.

I don’t know if she had recently gone through a growth spurt and was enjoying the newfound utility of her height or if she just liked being in the service of helping short people, but it seemed like getting games off of shelves made her day.

Thank you, tall girl.