Cashier Number Eight

The Ross store at 4th and Market in downtown San Francisco gets kind of busy. This is why they have 12 cashiers on duty at the same time, all serving a line of about 150 people laden with shoes, shirts, underwear, socks, and pants.

We got into line with a bit of apprehension but I noticed that it clipped along pretty good. This was mainly because all 12 cashiers were servicing this one line, and when someone would get to the head of it an electronic lady would announce, “Cashier number eight will now serve you.”

The person would head to cashier number eight and then the next person would stand there for a few seconds before the next announcement,

“Cashier number four will now serve you.”

The thing is, we noticed that cashier number eight seemed to be coming up more frequently than the others, so we started to watch her.

She was fast.

The electronic lady would call out cashier number six, then eight, then five, then seven, then eight, then eleven, then eight, then two, then three, then eight.

Cashier number eight was whizzing right along.

One, then eight, then four again, then eight, then twelve, then nine, then eight.

On and on.

So we got up to the head of the line and the electronic lady told us, “Cashier number two will now serve you.”

I didn’t want cashier number two. I wanted cashier number eight. She was fast and efficient and seemed friendly.

So I told the guy behind us to go to cashier number two because we were waiting for eight. He didn’t seem too disappointed that he didn’t get eight, so he must have not been paying attention.

The electronic lady spoke up again about thirty seconds later,

“Cashier number..”

Yes? YES??

“..EIGHT will now serve you.”


But wait a minute. Maybe she was so fast and efficient because she didn’t engage in any small talk, and just shoved her customers through. Wham, BAM, and getdafuckouddahere!

But we quickly found that wasn’t the case at all. She could just multitask really well. She talked to us and smiled a really pretty smile and scanned our stuff all at the same time. She didn’t even get overly flustered when  I explained to her that I have a silly blog and that I’d be writing something about her if she didn’t mind.

She didn’t. But she was a *little* flustered.

She probably wondered why anyone would write about a Ross cashier on a blog since all they do is scan clothes all day.

But there’s something about Myiah. Something different, and special. By the way, it’s pronounced MY-UH. If you try to say something like ME-EYE-UH she will smile that smile and correct you.

But she won’t poke fun at you, even though she could.

So if you’re in downtown San Francisco someday and have a sudden need for socks and there’s that Ross store at 4th and Market, go in and get your socks, then send the guy behind you to cashier number two, because the cashier you REALLY want is number eight.

“Cashier number eight will now brighten your day.”

It’s those little moments in life, isn’t it?

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