(I’m on holiday and stop at a popular fast food restaurant for lunch. The dining room is pretty busy but I find a free table in an area with only a man and his five-year-old son. I sit down to eat as they get up to leave, but the father leaves his wallet behind. The wallet is clearly visible outside through the windows. I figure if they don’t come back I’ll hand it to staff when I leave. After a couple of minutes, they come back.)

Man: *picking up his wallet and looking inside* “You b****, you stole my money.”

Me: “Excuse me? I haven’t touched your wallet.”

Man: “Don’t lie, you little s***. I had $100 in here. Now it’s gone. Give me my money back.”

(His son pipes up.)

Son: “But Dad, you said I could only have some chips because you don’t have any money.”

Man: “Quiet, [Son]. Listen here, you b****. Give me my money back before I take it back.”

(By this point, a staff member has come to see what all the fuss is about. This employee has been cleaning tables outside the whole time the wallet was left on the table.)

Employee: “Sir, your wallet hasn’t been touched. I could see it the whole time. You need to leave.”

Man: “Listen here. Someone stole my money and I want it back.”

(He goes to grab my handbag when another customer steps in and restrains him, pulling him away.)

Customer: “[Man], you’ve been warned not to pull this stunt again.” *lets the man go* “Now, get out of here before you’re locked up.”

(The man ran out, leaving his son behind, who was now crying. It turned out the man had tried this in a few places and the other customer was a local off-duty cop. The cop called the station to get the boy’s mum’s information. I stayed with the boy until she came to get him. The staff got the boy a kids’ meal and threw in some extra toys. It turns out the father was a drug addict but the courts had given him access visits with the boy.)

(A man walks up to my register with an iTunes gift card. It’s worth noting that when I started work in retail, gift cards had to be manually activated by the cashiers during purchase, but at the time of this story, this hasn’t been the case for years. Now gift cards activate automatically when purchased.)

Customer: “Make sure you activate the card for me.”

Me: “Don’t worry; they activate automatically.”

Customer: *suddenly looking very annoyed, and talking to me like I’m a five-year-old* “No, you have to activate them; otherwise, they don’t work.”

Me: “I assure you that it’ll activate automatically. It’ll be good to go once you’ve paid for it.”

Customer: “Look. I came in here the other week and bought one of these, and when I got home, it wouldn’t work. I came all the way back to the store, and the lady told me it was because whoever sold it to me had forgotten to activate it for me, so she did it for me, instead.”

Me: “We had to activate them manually once, but that was years ago.“

Customer: “Well, this was just the other week.”

Me: “I don’t know what to tell you, sir. I know for a fact that it’s automatic now. I’ve sold hundreds without complaint. I’ve even bought them for myself and never had an issue using them.”

Customer: “Okay, fine, sell it to me. Just tell me your name.”

Me: *pointing to my name badge* “I’m [My Name].”

Customer: “Okay, [My Name], here’s what’s going to happen. I’m going to purchase this gift card. Then, I’m going to go all the way home and try using it. When it doesn’t work, I’m going to come all the way back and get someone else to activate it. I’m going to explain to them how, despite my constantly telling you otherwise, you refused to activate it. Then, I’m going to make sure you get fired for your incompetence, okay?”

Me: “Sounds good.”

Customer: “Well, okay. I’ll take it, then.”

(He pays for the gift card and it activates. It even prints off the second receipt that says as much, which I show to him.)

Customer: “Thank you. I’ll be back soon; don’t you worry about that.”

(I never saw that customer again, and years later, still have my job.)

I was a young adult dining with my parents at a small Classique French-style fine-dining restaurant. The restaurant seemed to have fallen out of favour. When we arrived, there were only two other tables, both well into their meals. By the time we had finished our mains, we were the only table in the restaurant. We discussed quietly if we should order dessert; we felt guilty keeping the staff there for longer.

Just then, our waiter, who could not have overheard our conversation but had presumably guessed at it, came over with the dessert menus and offered us a complimentary glass each of “noble rot” wine to accompany it if we ordered. There couldn’t have been a nicer way to say “we want you to stay for dessert and continue to enjoy your meal.” We, of course, accepted it, and took our leisurely time over it, as the wine offer implied. The meal was excellent, the service impeccable.

Sadly, fashion had moved on, and the restaurant closed a short while later. 

Salut to the hard-working front of house staff, and the chef and his underlings. I hope they went on to bigger and better things.

(In high school, I catch a bus once from school to a friend’s house, a bus I have never taken before. The moment I get on the bus, a young man — who I recognise immediately has an intellectual disability — smiles at me.)

Man: *loudly* “Hello!” 

Me: *smiling back* “Hello!”

(I take my seat on the bus as the man turns to me.)

Man: “You’re very beautiful!”

Me: *breaking into a grin* “Aww, thank you!”

(I could tell the guy was harmless and just meant to put smiles on other people’s faces, and to that end, he was succeeding. But I worried that other people on the bus might get annoyed at him or worse, start bullying him for his disability. But it never happened. I watched as he loudly said, “Hello!” to everyone that got on the bus, and even to people who had been sitting on the bus for some time that he’d already greeted before, and everyone cheerfully said, “Hello!” back. He told many passengers they were beautiful; they all smiled and thanked him. He cracked “jokes” with punchlines that didn’t make sense, but everyone still laughed and cheered for him. Every time a new passenger got on the bus, I worried that this would be the person who would be intolerant or nasty, but everyone — schoolkids, young adults, the middle-aged, the elderly — EVERYONE seemed delighted with him. The entire half-hour trip to my friend’s house, I don’t think there was a single frown on that bus. When I got to my friend’s house, I asked her about him, and she confirmed that he was a regular on that route and everyone loves him. Sadly, I never got the chance to take that bus route again, but that memory remains as one of the sweetest moments between strangers that I was lucky enough to be a part of.)

(A customer orders a meatball sandwich as usual. I begin placing meatballs on the sandwich.)

Customer: “No! Not like that!”

Me: “I’m sorry, sir. What wrong?”

Customer: “You’re doing it wrong.”

Me: “Doing what wrong?”

Customer: “Never mind.”

(I’m almost done with his sub when he demands I remake the sandwich.)

Customer: “Now, put them on there the right way.”

Me: “Like this?”

(I proceed to place the meatballs on the sub a different way than I was trained to do.)

Customer: “NO! Are you stupid? Where did you learn how to make a meatball sandwich?!”

Me: “Can you please explain what I’m doing wrong, sir?”

Customer: “Put them on the flat part!”

(Assuming he meant the meatballs, I remade the sandwich again and he paid and left with it. A few minutes later, he returned from the parking lot with the sandwich unwrapped and nibbled on and proceeded to lob it over the counter at me, getting meatballs everywhere, and then left again.)