Extraordinary cashiers and other customer service people are everywhere. Musicians or other artists, writers, master gardeners, creative parents – they find all manner of creative outlet.
I’m at the City Bakery on Biltmore Ave., waiting for my car to be done at Toney’s Car and Truck, my current favorite mechanic who got three votes on my recent informal Facebook poll of local mechanics. What I brought to them today was not heavy-duty mechanical challenges for them, but maybe challenges nonetheless. My dome light burned out and I absolutely cannot see a way to get at it. People tell me there will certainly be a step-by-step video on YouTube about how to do this, but I not only am not handy but I have a real block around stuff like this. Someday maybe my personal growth will move in this direction, but right now I’m happy to pay for stuff like this – and celebrate that I do have enough little financial cushion to pay for it. Now when the transmission goes out I’m gonna look it up on YouTube.
Pretty much everywhere I go, I’m telling cashiers about this blog and, when I get the chance, interviewing them about their work and lives – and hearing so much great stuff. Here at City Bakery, Mike just took care of me. He gave me great service: my coffee routine includes that when I put all my half-and-half in my coffee it becomes not hot enough for me, so I ask baristas to either microwave it for me after I have doctored it up or, if they have no microwave, to steam some cream for me – the latter of which Mike did for me very cheerfully. Great service, good tip and good feelings all around. I tend to tip cashiers, restaurant servers, etc. well. Hey, we do hard work – largely unrecognized or misunderstood by people who think it’s easy or mindless – and for shit wages.
So I told Mike about the blog. (“I’m a cashier too, at x grocery store – and I’m also a writer. I write this blog about cashiering, which is also about customer service more generally – but it’s also about bipolar disorder, which I’ve got, and about mindfulness and human relations and Tae Kwon Do and lots of other stuff.”) Mike did what most cashiers do when I give them this spiel – he got excited, as did his coworker Joe, who was listening in from behind. “Hey, sounds like fun – I’m definitely going to check it out.” I think they always mean that when they say it, even if they don’t always end up doing it.
Then, because Mike was steaming my half-and-half and there was no line, we got a couple of minutes to talk. Mike said, “You gave me your card – I’ve got one too.” As he struggled a bit to pull his card out of his wallet (sometimes my cards don’t always ease their way out of my wallet), I noticed that his left hand and arm were dramatically misshapen. His card read: “Mike Anderson – pianist”. There was a really nice open vibe between us – I was liking him a lot – so I made bold to ask him about the arm.
“How does it work for you playing the piano with that arm?” Mike did not blink, acted not at all surprised or put out by my directness.
“I hold my arm at this angle. I mostly improvise, so I don’t use these fingers very much and it works out fine overall.”
“How did it happen?”
“I was in my 20’s, driving too sleepy, fell asleep and went under a semi.”
“You’re lucky to still be alive.”
“Big time.” Charming, warm, friendly, smart – physically wounded but personally very intact.
“Could I write a post about you?” “Sure.”
“Can I use your name?” “Yeah.” “Maybe I’ll include your contact info – you might get some business.” “Great.”
“Can I get a photo?” “Sure.” “Can I include your bad arm in the photo?” “Let’s not. I don’t want it to be shtick about the handicapped guy or for sympathy or anything like that.” Got it.
So here he is: Mike Andersen. Cashier, barista, pianist, composer – cool guy. Yes a barista – and good at it. But so much more. Patronize him at City Bakery and get great, warm, real service. Book him for an event.