I walked into a clothing store the other day, to exchange an item I had bought earlier. I got to the front desk and was standing in a line up, but I could see one of the cashiers from where I stood. He was moving at super speed- taking off security tags, ringing up a purchase, folding the shirt that his customer was buying, and bagging it. He was so quick that the woman in front of him hadn’t even pulled out her card yet to pay. I swear he had what seemed like a few seconds at least to wait for HER. And it wasn’t as if she too a long time to get into her purse and fish out her card.
I was so amazed, and when I got to the cashiers lined up in front of me, I was kind of excited to see that this same guy would be my cashier as well. I told him how impressed I was by his efficiency. He said thank you, looked me in the eyes while he did it, but was still able to wrap, bag, and ring up my sale at the same time. I laughed and just blatantly admitted that he was too fast for me.
I was fishing around for my card in my purse, and he just waited, patiently. And while I was searching, I asked him about a shirt that was hanging on a display way too high for me to reach. He actually got out from behind the desk, which was way at the back of the store, and reached the front of the store in lightning speed. He found me two sizes as I had requested. It was strange how fast he got there, because he didn’t appear to be running at all. He seemed pretty calm actually. But he just appeared, behind the desk again, like he had never left.
I couldn’t decide between the small or extra small, and he gave me a quick and subtle look up and down, and very confidently told me to get the extra small. “But what if it hugs me too much?” I asked. “I don’t want it to show off parts that I don’t need emphasizing. And isn’t it supposed to be loose anyway?”
“Yes, it is supposed to be loose,” he told me, “but you don’t want it to be so loose that it looks boxy. It should still give you some shape. Get the extra small.”
And just like that, I listened. Thankfully, I got a quick look at his name tag– Ron. Ron with glasses and blue hair. He definitely left an impression. And as I walked away, I noticed he was still at it, fast, not a second wasted.
I remember thinking, as he was packing up my stuff for me, that I wish I could give him a tip. This is the kind of service that deserves a tip. And I guess the idea was still in my head as I left.
Because something compelled me to search for the nearest Starbucks, once I was outside again. It’s not like I have money to burn on other people, especially strangers. And sometimes, I find it hard to tip at places where tips are usually expected. But I walked straight up to the cash desk at the coffee shop to ask for a gift card. It was only for five dollars, but it was definitely five dollars more than I was expecting to add to a clothing purchase, and hopefully, it was five dollars more than Ron was expecting to receive that day. If nothing else, at least he could buy himself his favorite drink.
I went back to the store that Ron worked at, waited again in a shorter line up for a cashier. Luckily, Ron was the one who I got again this time. And though he was on the phone, he looked up, and motioned to me that he was available for help. But he look a little confused, as if he wanted to say, “Where is your purchase?” I just smiled and plopped the gift card in its little envelope on the desk in front of him, and said, “I think you should get a drink.”
It was the first time I saw Ron stop for more than a few seconds, like really stop. He looked up, and his mouth opened but for the first moment, he didn’t make a sound. And then he gave me the best and biggest smile I could have asked for, and he said, “You’re awesome.”
Funny, because that’s exactly what I wrote to him on the gift card.
And as if I were the one who was given a surprise gift that day, I went on my way, skipping across the streets, feeling extremely lucky that day.
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