I have unintentionally offended many people, but the opposite also happens.
When I was in elementary school, my parents moved me from a public school to a Christian one. Not because of the religion, but because I had a friend there and the Christian school had a better reputation.
Anyway, there I am, and I notice that in the Christian school every days start with a certain prayer, the Our Father. I didn’t know the words to that prayer, and I felt stupid mumbling along. So, after school I shyly ask my teacher if he would teach me the words to the Our Father. I didn’t quite understand the look on his face as he eagerly did what I asked. In retrospect, I realised he looked thrilled and moved. I guess that was one of the moments he became a religious teacher for.
A few months back, I had rented a popular movie from Redbox, and was returning it. One lady was hopping between the two booths looking for a particular movie. Turns out it was the one I had.
When she asked what movie I had just put in and found out it was the one I was returning, you’d think I had just given her a winning lottery ticket. She squeeed, hugged me, and did a little dance. Both of which totally made my day, as women tend to get nervous of me whenever I’m close.
So yea, I unintentionally pleased her. Wouldn’t mind one bit if something like that occurred on a daily basis.
A couple of years ago I was giving my roomie a shoulder massage, and because of the way she was sitting against me, the movement of my elbow made the massage a little more pleasing to her than either of us expected. :eek:
I did intend to please someone, just not the teacher.
My 10th-grade class was pretty weird: take the students who were just waiting to be old enough to get a job, clump them together, fill in the rest of the spots with people whose grades were considered “immune to the environment” (maybe good, maybe bad, but in any case independent of what kind of classmates we had).
The guy who sat on my right was as much of a bookworm as I was; we’d lend each other books and read them during class, keeping them crushed between our knees and the desks. We were perfectly capable to do that while taking notes and tracking where we were in the textbook at the same time. One day the Lit teacher, who liked walking around during class, stopped between our desks and said “ok, you two, show me those.” Oops… :o
We show him. I had a volume with two Lope de Vega comedies which Michel had lent me, he had a Guareschi I’d lent him. The teacher looked at both books, sighed at the ceiling and said “this is Literature class! How am I supposed to berate them for reading good books in Literature class!” and returned them to us saying “please keep them on top of the desk, you’re hurting your spines.”
Another day the Chemistry teacher saw one of the Lucky Strike books Michel had just returned to me and laughed; the next day he brought us Bicentennial Man and I, Robot
I was on my way to teach a class and I was running late and out of gas. I jumped out, pumped $40 into the tank and sped off without paying.
When I later realized what I did, I returned to the gas station and confessed and offered to pay up. The woman behind the counter actually broke down and cried. Apparently her boss had yelled at her the previous day because someone had drove off without paying. She sobbed that money was really tight and she really needed that job and was about to take $40 out of her own pocket to balance her drawer…
So I made her day by correcting for the fact that I had screwed her over.
Elbows don’t bend that way! Unless she was sitting with her back against him, and he had his arms under her armpits, massging from the front…is confused.
I accidently made the school librarian really happy as a kid- was browsing the shelves, and found a copy of Jack London’s Call of the Wild and White Fang in one volume, my mum had a copy with really nice illustrations, so I pulled it out to see if it did too, and the librarian spotted me, and was utterly thrilled!
Apparently no-one had taken it out in over 4 years, and it was pretty much her favourite book in the whole place; she spent several minutes telling me how awesome it was, and how annoying it was that no-one ever wanted to read it. I wound up taking it out anyway, even though I’d very recently read my mum’s much nicer copy. It would have been like kicking a puppy to tell her I only wanted to look at the pictures.
Once when I was in high school around Xmastime I’d bought a scarf as a gift for someone at a Target-type store. (I want to say it was a Venture…definitely one that’s been out of business for a while.)
So I get home and I’m refolding the scarf to put it into a box and another scarf dropped out that had been stuck to it. I checked my receipt and I hadn’t been charged for it so the next day I went back to the store, stood in the returns line and when I got to the front handed it to the worker and explained I’d bought a scarf and when I got it home there was another scarf tangled with it and I wanted to bring back the one that I hadn’t paid for. A senior citizen couple standing beside me exclaimed “BLESS YOUR HEART!” and “WELL, MERRY CHRISTMAS!” like I’d given a million dollars to charity or something.
I have, just by doing my job. I take the very sick, the elderly, the young from one hospital to the next. I am told I make my patients feel like people because I have a way of putting them at ease while we transport them.
Trust is a huge issue when you have peoples lives in your care. I’m not the best at what I do, but i am very good at it.
At the grocery store, the cashier asked “How are you doing today?” I responded, as I usually do, “I’m doing well, thank you.” A passing manager stopped and felt compelled to shake my hand for having responded in what he felt was a grammatically appropriate way.
I actually did just this morning. Our firewood guy was delivering wood and I brought him a cup of coffee. I’m pretty good at remembering how people like their coffee, if I made it even once. I have only made him a cup once and it was nearly two years ago. But, I remembered how he liked it and it seemed to make his day. Of course then he made my day by telling me I make the best coffee.
When my father died I inherited* my mother’s silver dollar collection (begun at a slot machine in Meaderville, Montana on their honeymoon). A couple of years later the first of the grandchilluns — my niece — got married, and on an impulse/whim I took ten of the silver dollars, put them in a plastic bag, and gave them to her outside the reception with a remark something like “these are from your grandmother.” Then promptly forgot about it.
A week or so later I got a call from my brother to the effect that my niece was extraordinarily touched by the gift. She was born after her grandmother died, so never knew her; and receiving something of hers, particularly something with an unusual backstory, meant a lot to her.
(Of course, now I’m stuck handing out silver dollars as wedding presents whenever one of my nieces/nephews gets hitched. But that was implicit in giving them once, wasn’t it?)
*In the sense of becoming their custodian. I regard them as a family heirloom, and have no more right to sell them than QEII has to hock the Crown Jewels.
A couple of years ago, on a country highway, I hit a very unexpected icy patch. In order to avoid hitting the idiot in front of me (who slammed on his brakes and was busy fishtailing all over the road), I deliberately put my car into the snowy ditch. I chose a nice spot free of obstructions.
Unfortunately, I didn’t have my cell phone with me. As I got out of the car, the man in the farm house on the opposite side of the street came out to see if I was OK. He told me that everyone crashes there, because of the way the snow blows across the road at that point.
Then he realized that his mailbox was still standing. He was tickled pink. “I can’t believe you didn’t hit my mailbox!” I was nonplussed. “Of course not. I picked the nice empty snowy spot.” And he said, “You don’t understand. EVERYONE hits my mailbox. I have to replace the stupid thing about five times every winter.”
He was so excited that he brought me into the house, let me call my parents, the tow truck, and my insurance company, and made me cocoa while we waited.
Unless she was sitting with her back against him, and he had his arms under her armpits, massging from the front…is confused.
