(It’s been less than a year since I moved roughly 1550 miles to my new home. When mosquito season comes around I have a pretty bad reaction to the bites. Since I can’t just go to work covered in calamine, I put adhesive bandages over them. There are a lot. And the only bandages I have are neon. Because of this, at work, it’s pretty much impossible to avoid questions from customers about what happened. I tell dramatic lies and almost everyone plays along.)

Young Girl: “What happened to your arms?”

Me: “I fought a bear...”

Young Girl: *blandly* “Oh.”

Me: “…and won.”

Young Girl: “Okay.”

(She paid for her items and left without another word. The next customer began asking questions about my fierce battle. It still amuses me that out of all the stories I made up that day, the only person who wouldn’t play along was a little kid.)

(The store I work in is small and quiet, sometimes not getting customers for an hour or more. Naturally, most of us spend a lot of time on our phones. I try to be professional about it and only be on my phone if there are no customers around. Even a single customer anywhere in the store, and my phone stays off, no matter how bored I get. None of my coworkers are that cautious, even though I keep reminding them that management can spy on us through the cameras at any time. One day, we’ve just opened, and the only people around are me at the register and the owner in the office. An hour later, he comes out and sees me sitting there playing with my phone. Worried he might disapprove, I immediately start defending myself.)

Me: “Sir, I swear I’m never on my phone when there are any customers around.”

Owner: “You know what? That’s what they all say… and you’re the only one I believe. You’re fine.”

(It’s an interesting feeling when you realize your paranoia was completely justified.)

(I have been receiving government benefits for a little while after leaving a violent relationship and being homeless. I finally get my own place and inform the agency responsible for the benefits; they tell me will send a rent certificate out so my landlord can sign it so I’ll receive assistance in paying rent. Fast forward a month: despite asking numerous times for it, it never arrives. I’m just managing to pay my rent but have very little left for food, bills, and essential medication. I go into an office to get one so my landlord can sign it before leaving the country for three months. I spend an hour and a half waiting for two pieces of paper, run and get my landlord to sign what he needs to, and then head back to the office. I wait another hour for a lady to take the papers.)

Lady #1: “It will be in your next pay.” *starts to walk off*

Me: “Excuse me, but I’ve waited for a month for the rent certificate. I really need the money. Shouldn’t I get back paid?”

Lady #1: “It will be with your next pay.”

Me: “I’m sorry, but I was told it could be done immediately. I would also like to know how much the assistance will be.”

Lady #1: “Fine, take a seat and I’ll find out.”

(I wait another twenty minutes.)

Lady #1: “It will be [amount that’s $50 less than should be] and will be with your next pay. If you want money now, you have to get on the phone.” *walks away*

(I get on the phone to a department that is notorious for keeping people waiting and then not helping. I am extremely lucky to get a woman who goes above and beyond. She messages the lady I originally dealt with to actually upload the paperwork — which she hasn’t done — and gets the amount I am to receive corrected. Because the office I am in is closing, the lady I originally dealt with tells me I have to leave. The second lady promises to call me on my mobile once she has everything sorted out. Twenty minutes later, [Lady #2] calls me and verifies who I am.)

Lady #2: “I have some good news: [correct amount] will be in your account overnight. I’m sorry for what happened today at the office but I’ve had four people working on it and it has been escalated to a supervisor.”

Me: “Thank you so much. Everyone else I’ve dealt with didn’t care, but you’ve been amazing. I really appreciate it.”

Lady #2: “Not a problem; I’m glad I could help. Now you mentioned you need medication; is there anything else you need tonight? I won’t be able to give a lot right now as the money will be in your account tomorrow, but I can see what I can do.”

Me: “Just my meds, which will be about [amount], and something for dinner.”

Lady #2: “What about getting home? It’s too hot to be walking long distances.”

Me: “I have enough on [travel card] to get home. Thank you.”

Lady #2: “Okay, I’ve just put [amount] on your account, which means you’ll get [amount] tomorrow. Things will get better; keep your head up.”

Me: *now crying* “Thank you so much. You’ve been amazing. No one else I’ve talked to has cared. Thank you, have an amazing rest of your day.”

(This might not seem like a lot, but the second lady I spoke too really went above and beyond to get it sorted and make me feel better. So, to the lady, if you’re reading this, thank you; your kind words and going the extra mile to fix others’ mistakes for someone on the end of the phone really made a difference.)

(I’ve pulled up to the speaker to order my dinner from a fast food restaurant.)

Me: “Can I have a number three with a Coke, medium-sized?”

Employee: “Okay, so that’s a medium number three with a Coke, anything else?”

Me: “Nope, that’s it.”

Employee: “Okay, please pull ahead, your total will be… a bad number.”

(On the screen, it shows the total to be $6.66. I pull ahead to the window and give him my card.)

Employee: “I won’t say the number because it’s a bad one, but you know what it is. Do you want your receipt?”

Me: “No, thank you.”

Employee: “Good choice. Don’t want the devil chasing you down.”

(I don’t actually work at the pizza place involved in this story. I am just a part of a weird chain of events that starts with my order being given to someone else, and ends with the receiver of my order calling me.)

Me: “Hello?”

Caller: “My husband was just in there, and we got the wrong pizza. We ordered a pepperoni and what we got was an original meat. We live too far away to come and get another one. I was wondering if you could give me a coupon or something.”

Me: “Well, I would, but this is somebody’s house, not [Pizza Chain].”

Caller: “Oh, is this… [My Number], is that you?”

Me: “Yeah.”

Caller: “Well, this must be your order, then.”

Me: “Yeah, they remade our pizza.”

Caller: “Okay, I can’t find their number, then, sorry.”

Me: “No problem.”