We didn't have Malibu, so you ordered a sweet tea. You ordered a small and medium pizza. I brought you two small pizzas. It was my second true-blue mistake on the job. I felt like an idiot. You were wonderful and understanding, professing that it was okay. You'd order another if need be. But the pizza's came out burnt. You explained how you had been a server, completely understood it was my second week, and that I didn't make the pizza. My manager ran you through two, new, correct-sized pizzas. They came out perfect. And you asked if tips went to me directly... I said yes.

You tipped me $13 on $27 after all that. I almost cried. I've been feeling so out of place. And stressed. You were so kind. Thank you. I needed your understanding. I wish I could hug you. You helped me more than you know today.