Our company supplies and fits windows. A client calls us, screaming on the phone.

Client: “That man you sent over is incompetent!”

Me: “Our sales representative? How so, madam?”

Client: “He won’t grant my simple little request! I just need a new window in my bathroom that overlooks the back garden!”

Me: “I see. Is our representative still there?”

Client: “No I sent him away! You need to send one who actually knows what they’re doing!”

Me: “I’ll check in with our representative when he gets back, and I will call you back with an update.”

Our sales representative returns, and I ask him what happened.

Sales Rep: “Well, she was correct in that she asked for a new window in her bathroom that overlooks the back garden.”

Me: “So what was the problem?”

Sales Rep: “Did she tell you that said bathroom is at the front of the house?”

Me: “Ah, yes, she neglected to mention that part.”

It was not a fun phone call trying to get her to understand. She decided not to go with us and find someone who “knew what they were talking about.” Good luck finding house-rotators, madam!

I work in an upholstery factory located on a very busy main road. Shop floor staff start at 7 AM and work until 4:30 PM, four days a week, with a half-day on Fridays finishing at 11 AM. On those first four days, we have two fifteen-minute breaks and a half-hour for dinner. As you can imagine, after getting up that early and working basically nonstop for three hours, breakfast is something of a necessity.

Unfortunately, the nearest town is a ten-minute drive away, and at the time of this story, I am an apprentice, with no car or driver’s license.

As a result, the petrol station across the road, which has a little branch of a certain well-known bakery inside, was a hotspot for us factory workers come the first break.

I got that breakfast routine down to an art: two minutes walk across the road, five minutes to queue, order, and pay, three minutes back so as not to spill my fresh coffee, and five minutes to sit and eat my well-deserved bacon roll.

On this particular day, something went slightly wrong before break, making me slightly late out, and when it comes time to pay, I realise that my debit card is not in my wallet, but in my phone case, which is back in the factory across the road, and I have no cash since I don’t like to carry it.

I deliberate and panic, then, with a heavy and hungry heart, apologise to the staff for the inconvenience, and turn to abandon my food. Then I hear this from a greying man in the queue behind me:

Customer: “How much is it?”

Staff: “[Nominal amount].”

I turn as I realise what’s about to happen, and do my best to be polite, since there’s little to no chance of me seeing this kind stranger ever again to return the favour.

Me: “Oh, it’s fine, honestly—”

Too late. He’s counted his change and covered my order before I can finish my sentence, and I’m left to stutter out a meek “thank you” as he waves a hand to dismiss me and make his own order.

I savoured every bite of that bacon roll, when I got back, and ever since then, I try to pay such kindness forward wherever I can.

It’s been over a year now and I haven’t seen that man again, but if this story ever reaches you, sir, know that your simple kindness has made a lasting impact on me, and made me a kinder person as a result.

Related:
With Great Bacon, Comes Great Responsibility, Part 24
With Great Bacon, Comes Great Responsibility, Part 23
With Great Bacon, Comes Great Responsibility, Part 22 
With Great Bacon, Comes Great Responsibility, Part 21
With Great Bacon, Comes Great Responsibility, Part 20

An older gentleman comes up to me at the store brandishing a smartphone.

Customer: “Help! My wife has sent me a shopping list and I don’t know what this is!”

He points out an item on the list: ‘Temporal Lining.’

Me: “I… don’t know what that is either, sir. Is she after some form of lining for storage? Or food prep?”

Customer: “Well, I don’t know! That’s why I am asking you!”

Me: “Can you call her to find out?”

Customer: “No, she gets very cross with me when I call her and ask these things. She says I need to learn how to do the shopping.”

Me: “Let me ask some colleagues.”

I ask my colleagues over the store radio, who are – like me – a bit of a nerdy bunch.

Colleague #1: “Are they trying to fold spacetime without the fractures in the timeline affecting their spacecraft? They might need the lining for that.”

Colleague #2: “If that’s the case try aisle five next to the inertial dampener field generators.”

Colleague #3: “Unless they have a Tachyon Converter grid installed, in which case they don’t need the temporal lining.”

Colleague #4: “True, but if they plan on using transwarp conduits then it’s a must.”

I shut off my radio as my colleagues are obviously having too much fun at me and my poor customer’s expense, not to mention he’s listening in with great earnest.

Customer: “Why did you shut that off?! They were trying to help!”

Me: “I… I don’t think your wife was asking for any of those things, sir.”

The customer ended up having to call his wife. Apparently ‘temporal lining’ was an autocorrect. She wanted some Tempranillo wine.

My father told me this story about a colleague of his during World War II. Their work was based at Supreme Headquarters, so their security passes were clearly marked “SHAEF” (Supreme Headquarters Allied Expeditionary Force).

UK trains then had compartments seating eight people, joined by a corridor running the length of the carriage. [Colleague] was in a compartment along with several civilians and a Colonel. The Colonel was complaining loudly and at length that he couldn’t stand bloody civilians, that he hated bloody civilians, and that he would be glad to go back to France next week with [Regiment] and get away from all these bloody civilians.

Colleague: “Excuse me, Colonel. Could I have a word with you in private in the corridor? It’s very important.”

[Colonel] blustered a lot but eventually agreed. Once in the corridor, [Colleague] produced a security pass.

Colleague: “I’m from Supreme Headquarters, Colonel. Do you have anything to say that I can put forward in mitigation when I report you for revealing troop movements to civilians?”

Cue the total blubbering, pleading collapse of the Colonel.

Me: “Hello, emergency service operator, which service do you require? Fire, Police, or Ambulance?”

Caller: “I think… the police? It’s an emergency.”

Me: “Tell me about the emergency and I will direct you to the correct service.”

Caller: “Well, my phone company shut off my phone. You’re the only people I can call now.”

Me: “Alright, well you can still call us to report an emergency, like you’re doing right now, so how can we help you?”

Caller: “I just told you! I need to be able to make calls again!

Me: “Are you calling to say your emergency is that your phone company shut off your phone?”

Caller: “Yes! I’m only a month or two behind on payments, but I need to make calls! You need to get them to turn my phone on again!”

Me: “Sir, that is not an emergency for 999. You need to hang up and pay your phone bill.”

Caller: “But it is an emergency to me!”

Me: “Not to us, sir.”

Caller: “What a waste of taxes you are! I pay your salary!”

Me: “But not your phone bill. I am hanging up now, sir. Please only call if there is a real emergency.”

I hang up. I heard he called again a few times that night hoping someone would be able to help him. We ended up sending him to the Police for his emergency, who spoke to him about wasting emergency services resources.