(When my daughter is very young — around two years old or so — she sometimes has trouble sleeping. Her dad will hold her in one arm, rocking her gently, while using his other hand to play a computer game — “Knights of the Old Republic” is a favorite at the time. She usually goes off to sleep fairly quickly… but not always. One night, my husband has just encountered an enemy in his game. As he prepares to act, a little voice suddenly pipes up:)

Daughter: *with bloodthirsty enthusiasm* “Kill it, Daddy, kill it!”

(My husband switched to reading while rocking her to sleep after that.)

(While I am normally a cashier, at my store everyone works everywhere. I could be in the back, I could be a stock girl, I could be a cashier, I could work guest service counter, etc. Today I am working in the back because we got a HUGE delivery. Because it is always cold in the back, we are allowed to wear non-company sweaters over our uniforms. I get paged to get on cash so I grab my company jacket and get on a cash register.)

Me: “I can help whoever is next.”

Woman: “Are you wearing your uniform?”

(I look down and notice I forgot to zip up my uniform.)

Me: “Oh, yeah, sorry, I was in the back and—”

Woman: “Does your manager know you aren’t following company procedure?”

Me: “Well, yeah, she gave me permission to—”

Woman: “You know, when I worked here, I had respect for the store and its policies. Teenagers nowadays…”

(She droned on for so long that the rest of the line was dealt with by other cashiers. She eventually went and complained about me to guest services. I didn’t realize wearing a university sweater could be so insulting.)

(I work at a place where we seat people according to coloured cards that they receive, which also have table numbers on them. The number of times I have had this exchange:)

Me: “What colour is your card?”

Customer: “Uh… fourteen?”

Our family went out for dinner one evening. As the waitress came to take our order, we could see that she looked like she was having a terrible day. She looked like she was completely exhausted and worn out. She took our orders and left, returning to the table shortly with our drinks orders. My nine-year-old son looked up, gave her a big smile, and said, “Awesome service!”

Her whole face lit up. From then on, we received VIP treatment, everything was perfect, she couldn’t do enough for us. We asked for her name and told her manager the service was great. Every time we went after that, we asked for her, and every time, we got amazing service and big smiles.

Sometimes just a kind word or two can make such a difference.

Related:
From The Mouth Of Babes, Part 12
From The Mouth Of Babes, Part 11
From The Mouth Of Babes, Part 10
From The Mouth Of Babes, Part 9
From The Mouth Of Babes, Part 8

(I am on break when this happens but my manager tells me about this. She and a coworker are working in the backroom, organizing and labelling boxes. A child opens the door and throws a mug at them.)

Mother Of Child: “Did the mug break?”

Manager: “No, but—”

Mother Of Child: “Oh, good. We don’t have to pay for it, then. Come along, [Child].”