You, handling customer calls for a satellite-dish network, took a service call from my mother. She wanted a technician to come out to her house in the middle of the desert. But you had experience with stroke victims, and you convinced her to gather her many remote controls, park in front of the screen, and do her best to follow your directions and get service restored without a tech visit. For 45 minutes you guided her, taught her, talked to her. You offered her the kindness and patience that many people who have known her for decades have abandoned because they are too busy, this world moves too quickly, and her thoughts and words are now too slow for them to deal with. She read words, pressed numbered buttons in specific sequences, and navigated through remotes and screens until finally all was right in the TV world again—but only with your help. She floored my stepfather, who believed her recovery had all but stopped dead in its tracks. This woman—who, one year ago, lost all concept of time, dates, numbers, and names—was given a renewed sense of hope and the best day she has had in a long time because of your kindness. Thank you from the bottom of my heart, from a very faraway daughter.
Commiserate with commenters and complain about the dust in your eye at I, Anonymous.