I wanted to start therapy to try to talk through some things that I’ve been dealing with. I found someone who took my insurance and had an opening in the next week.

On the morning of my appointment, someone from the office called. 

Office: “We need to reschedule your appointment for today. [Doctor] is overbooked and can’t take any new patients this week. We have [date two weeks from now].”

Me: “Oh. Yeah, okay, I understand.”

Office: “Great! See you then!”

Two weeks went by without a word. Then, on the morning of my appointment, they called again. 

Office: “We need to reschedule your appointment for today. [Doctor] is overbooked and can’t take any new patients this week. We have [date three weeks from now].”

Me: “Oh. Well, is anyone else available sooner? I—”

Office: “No, only [Doctor] is taking new patients. Do you want that appointment?”

Me: “Yeah, I’ll take it.”

Office: “Okay, sounds good. See you then!”

If you’re guessing what happened on the morning of my third first-appointment, you’re right. They called again.

Office: “We need to reschedule your appointment for today. [Doctor] is overbooked and can’t take any new patients this week. We have [date one month from now].”

Me: “You know, I’m just going to cancel.”

Office: “We really don’t advise that. We—”

Me: “You have cancelled my intake appointment three times because [Doctor] is overbooked. It’s clear that you’re overwhelmed and I’m just not going to be seen anytime soon. Thank you for your time, but I will not be rescheduling.”

Office: “Okay, good luck getting care somewhere else when you act like that.”

Me: “Excuse me? Who—”

She hung up without answering. I received an email saying I was dismissed from the practice for my behavior and lack of cooperation with the office staff. I feel like I’m better off looking elsewhere.

Customer: “I need [several electrical department items].”

Me: “Okay, [items] will be on aisles five, six, seven, and forty-eight.”

I add clear locations for each item within the aisles.

Customer: “But this is the electrical department, right?”

She points to a large hanging sign above aisle five where we are standing.

Me: “Yes.”

Customer: *Growing agitated* “So, why isn’t everything I need on the electrical aisle?”

Me: “Ma’am, what you need is within the electrical department.”

Customer: “So, why do I have to go to all those aisles? If this is the electrical department, why should I go somewhere else?”

Me: “Because electrical has roughly nine aisles total.”

Customer: “Well, that’s stupid, and your sign is misleading! Don’t send me away somewhere else! I want everything I need to be in the electrical aisle, and since I’m in the electrical aisle, tell me where everything is!”

Me: “Again, your items are on [reiterates locations within the electrical department].”

Customer: “Why don’t you want to help me? This is the electrical department and I demand that everything be on this aisle since that sign—” *points above* “—says ‘ELECTRICAL’.”

Me: *Throwing my hands up* “I can’t help you, ma’am. Have a good day.”

I smiled, turned, and walked away.

Sorry, I’m not rearranging a whole store for someone who doesn’t know the difference between an aisle and a department.

Reading this story reminded me of an event that happened to me some years ago now.

I was twenty-four with two young sons, living with my grandmother. We were in a serious mess, all of us, thanks to the antics of my very controlling and habitually lying husband. Every day, he would leave the house to go to work and come home telling us it was just a few more days until our apartment was ready.

Come payday, there would be a problem with the bank holding up his paycheck, so no money, and an emergency at the complex that was pushing things back, so no apartment. I was trusting of the man I married and bore children with and felt powerless to do anything about the situation anyway.

On the day of this story, there was no food in the house. I was often begging my husband for money to go to the grocery store, dealing with his outrage that I was standing up to him even a little bit, but today, he was all smiles as he left for work.

Husband: “I made a call-head order at [Pizza Place]. Come eleven o’clock, you’ll have a pizza and soda, no problem.”

I love pizza, and so did my grandma and boys, so I recall feeling very relieved that he was thinking about us and thanking him before he went out for the day.

Eleven o’clock came and went, and nothing showed up. My two- and four-year-olds were expressing how hungry they were, and even my grandma was beginning to wonder when food would show up. Keep in mind, I wasn’t kidding about not having food; the week before, I had reached the point of desperation to drag a wagon to the grocery store (as I didn’t have access to a car) and exchange canned goods for other fresher items I could feed my little family with. This pizza was likely the only food we were going to get today, and while I was worried about what we would do tomorrow, I was more worried about what I would do today.

So, I called [Pizza Place]. The worker who answered was polite sounding and took my details in a respectful way, but they quickly became confused.

Worker: “There haven’t been any call-ahead orders. Are you sure? Do you have the details of the order right?”

Upon finding out what the order was supposed to be and why I was so concerned about its absence, they became extremely apologetic.

Worker: “I’m so sorry, but no such order has been called in. And unfortunately, that’s far over the amount that we could give away for free.”

Me: “I’m sorry for the trouble. I know you can’t do anything about it; it’s not your fault the order was never made. I appreciate your time.”

They were sorry, I was sorry, and just as politely as they had treated me, I hung up.

I was sitting in the living room with my grandma a little while later, trying to figure out what to do, when there was a knock at the door. Curious, and knowing Grandma couldn’t easily answer herself, I went to see who it was.

It was a pizza delivery driver. Smiling, this person, who didn’t know me and had no reason to believe my story, handed me a box.

Driver: “I have a large cheese pizza and a two-liter of orange soda for you, your sons, and your grandmother!”

I can’t remember now what exactly was said or how the food was comped or paid for. I just remember sobbing joyful tears in full view of this stranger as my young boys celebrated. I recall the driver gently waving and walking off. I couldn’t believe their kindness.

Friends, as I said, it’s been years. My grandmother has passed on and my sons are taller than me, and I have long since divorced that horrible man that told me bold-faced lies, uncaring that his family was being left without food.

But to this day, especially when I hear people badmouth “uncaring employees from big-name corporations”, I think about the time those same overworked and underpaid big-name pizza workers cared more about me than I ever would have imagined and certainly would have expected. I learned that day that some people really do care about other people and that no matter how some jerks may act, I am always worth it. I learned that day that I matter enough for a stranger to buy me a pizza when I’m hungry, and I’m grateful that every time I feel anxious and frightened, I can remember that fact.

Related:
A Hot Slice Of Kindness, Part 5
A Hot Slice Of Kindness, Part 4
A Hot Slice Of Kindness, Part 3
A Hot Slice Of Kindness, Part 2

I’m getting ready to start my shift. As I’m heading inside, a haggard-looking couple is sitting on the patio and the lady turns to me.

Customer: “Hey, I just wanted to let you know, if you can learn the animal language, you can learn anything.”

Me: “Umm… okay… Thanks for that.”

I just walk inside and clock in.

Me: “So, it’s gonna be one of those nights…”

The general manager later informed me that this couple comes in on a semi-regular basis while pretty strung out and that he’s cutting them off.

Related:
When You Start Each Customer Interaction With “Please Be Normal, Please Be Normal…”

I am a paralegal. We have a new lawyer in the office on a trial basis. His common sense isn’t always there.

One day, my boss tells me that, for a case, we have to send out letters to several companies. The business we represent has already compiled all of the information, including the names, the addresses, and a list of payments and dates of invoices. All we have to do is take the same letter template, input the names and addresses, and change the numbers to reflect the amounts for each business. Then, we are to add one attachment to the letter: an Excel spreadsheet that contains the payment history.

[New Lawyer] already has a head start on me. My boss shows me what I’m doing and then gives me five letters to start on. I finish in probably fifteen minutes.

Me: “Hey, I’m ready for more. Which companies do you want me to do next?”

Boss: “Wait. You’re done already? That was surprisingly fast.”

Me: “It’s not that hard — just a lot of copying and pasting and using the ‘find and replace’ option.”

Boss: “Hey, [New Lawyer], are you almost done with your batch?”

New Lawyer: “Almost done. This one company has so many payments; it’s taking me a while.”

Boss: “Please tell me you’re not hand-typing it all in.”

Sure enough, he was retyping every entry and retyping every letter. My boss had to teach him how to use copy and paste. It’s not like this lawyer was old and not used to the technology; he was in his early thirties.

Later, when I was entering our billing time, I saw that it had taken him two and a half hours to complete six letters. For comparison, it took me an hour and a half to do fourteen.