I am in the hospital, knowing I’ll be here for at least a week and possibly more. I am sick of hospital food, so I go downstairs to go across the street to a sandwich store chain that’s in the hospital.

I am pretty far back in the hospital, at the backside of a building, behind a labyrinth of staircases and hallways to get out to the front door. The walk from my ward to the sandwich store takes almost fifteen minutes.

I wait in line, get up to the counter to order, and realize I’ve left my wallet in my room. I ordinarily keep my wallet in my back pocket, but there was no need to in the hospital since I was in my room most of the time.

I am exhausted mentally by this point from my hospital stay. I tell them I’ve forgotten my wallet and turn to make the trek all the way there and back again.

All of a sudden, a nurse behind me swoops in and buys my food for me, saving me the trip (and the money). I thank him profusely, asking him for his name or to tell me where he works in the hospital so I can pay him back. He just smiles and tells me to focus on getting better.

That was years ago, but I will never forget that act of kindness. 

Related:
Why Nurses Should Rule The World, Part 17
Why Nurses Should Rule The World, Part 16
Why Nurses Should Rule The World, Part 15
Why Nurses Should Rule The World, Part 14
Why Nurses Should Rule The World, Part 13

I worked at a popular pet chain for six and a half years. One of the selling points and a major reason people shopped there was because of the excellent no-frills return policy. A lady came in one day with a reflective dog collar to return.

Lady: “I’d like to return this collar.”

Me: “Of course! Anything wrong with it?”

Lady: “Well… Do you need a light source for a reflective collar to light up?”

Me: “Pardon?”

Lady: “Because I was running my dog in our field the other night, and it was pitch black, and I couldn’t see him!”

Me: “…let me show you our light-up collars.”

When I was a kid, we didn’t have a lot of money, so we often shopped at thrift stores. What I loved about it was that you could get five books for a dollar, so I would plant myself in front of the book section and make piles of which ones I wanted to get and then decide after I’d gone through them all.

The older lady owner of the store saw me sitting with my piles.

Owner: “Do you like to read?”

Me: “I do!”

I showed her a few of the books I’d found that I liked. She smiled and then pulled a dollar out of her purse and handed it to me.

Owner: “Have some more on me. Promise me that you’ll keep reading.”

I was so happy and immediately stood up and said that I would. She smiled and walked away, and I went back to my piles, able to pick out an extra five books to take home. 

It was just a small act of kindness for her, but for me, having the store owner encourage my love of reading and making me promise to never stop definitely had a lot to do with my continued love of reading. This was probably twenty or so years ago, but I still think of her whenever I buy a new book.

I was between jobs when I got an offer for an interview offering $25 an hour. Curious, but cautious, I went in. I learned that it was a group interview with several workers. But it was a catered interview, and I like a good tiny sandwich, so… whatever.

The first thing that our interviewer did was ask if any of us had researched his company on the Better Business Bureau. A few people raised their hands, and he went to talk to them in private. He came back. They didn’t.

Then, he launched into a very emotional story about how he had been in a hard place and this job had saved his life, and he didn’t understand why so many people thought it was a scam. He literally started sobbing gigantic crocodile tears and had to be ushered out of the room by his assistants.

The assistants then told their own stories. I ate some more sandwiches.

Finally, the guy said he’d interview us one on one. In the one-on-one, he said that I had “great potential”. To get the job, we needed to put down a deposit of $600, but we’d soon be making $100,000 a year.

I laughed in his face and told him he could take his obvious scam and shove it up his a**. As I walked out, I tried to grab another sandwich for the road, but his assistants physically interposed themselves between me and the snack table. So, I left.

My family attended a work-related party. My husband’s coworkers had not yet met me or our children, so I was asked many questions. Some were invasive rather than curious.

One woman glared at my husband on and off while we spoke. Finally, she started to ask questions about my age, which I deftly sidelined. Then, she gave up on subtlety.

Woman: “You seem too young to have children this old.” 

My husband is only four years older than I am; I just look young.

I could see what she was implying and thought, “Game on!”

Me: *Blandly* “Oh, these are my husband’s kids with his first wife.”

Confusion played across her face.

Oldest Son: “Mom, you are Dad’s first wife!”

The woman left our group even more confused. I did have to explain to my kids that I said that to stop her probing and, frankly, insulting questions.