Elizabeth Joyce: It's the little things that can make a big impact

Are they going to tell me, in minute detail, about their dispute with the local housing association over a leaky tap?

Negative all round.

"Err, yes, yes it is."

"You reviewed a school play about five years ago."

Oh cripes, they're going to ask me to come back and do it again. "Mhmm."

"Well you mentioned my son in it. You said that he was one to watch in the future, he was only a young lad at the time, and I'm just calling to let you know he's now making a living as an actor in New York. He's doing really well and has just got the lead in a new show."

Ding, ding, ding: there goes the local-lad-done-good story alarm.

"Anyway, I just wanted to let you know that he's kept that review all these years – it was the first bit of press he received – and we just wanted to say thank you, you didn't have to say that."

Ahh, made me go as warm and gooey as treacle pudding and custard. Funny how you can touch someone and not even know it (and I mean that in a sweet and innocent emotional way, not like some rainmac-ed perv on a crowded bus).

And the moral of this little story?

No, not that everything I write is spot-on. Although, obviously it is and you should all pay very close attention to every single word.

The lesson is much simpler than that, namely: if you can do good, you should.

If you can speak up and say something nice, do it; if you've got the chance to make someone's life a bit easier, carrying an old dear's bags up the stairs or letting someone into the traffic with a smile, grasp it – chances are you'll make their day.

In these times of silent train journeys, road rage and Twitter trolling, it's all too easy to underestimate the impact of a good deed.

But, the truth is, they are rarely forgotten.

My friend went to Tokyo to celebrate her 30th birthday. It was the proverbial once-in-a-lifetime trip and she documented every moment, every memory, on her camera. A camera she then left in a taxi and, blinking back heartbroken tears, believed she would never see again. After all, this was a city of more than 100,000 taxis and 13 million people.

But then, in the 3am still of her hotel room, the phone rang to say she had a visitor in reception. There stood her tiny 70-something taxi driver with the camera in hand. He wouldn't take any money for it, he didn't even think it was that big a deal but she will never ever forget it.

So we're not talking huge, earth-shattering things here, just little acts of kindness that lighten and brighten another person's life. It all boils down to the most important – not to mention succinct – life lesson there is: be nice.

I'm going to start by not being so suspicious each time I answer my work phone.

Unless it's the corned beef people again.