Top 10 Posters

Joke/Inspiration of the Day #2

Page 47 of 59 (879 items) « First ... < Previous 45 46 47 48 49 Next > ... Last » | RSS

rated by 0 users
This post has 878 Replies | 28 Followers

Top 50 Contributor
Female
Posts 1,971
Points 27,675
Ramona replied on Thu, Jan 31 2013 4:14 PM | Locked

Nana,

You and me both.....I can sooooo relate!

Rhonnie,

I am so sorry to cause you so much grief this morning.....LOL

 

  • | Post Points: 20
Top 10 Contributor
Female
Posts 13,286
Points 173,448
Marie replied on Thu, Jan 31 2013 4:55 PM | Locked

A Truckers Story - 
If this doesn't light your fire, your wood is wet! 

I try not to be biased, but I had my doubts about hiring Stevie. His placement counsellor assured me that he would be a good, reliable busboy. 

But I had never had a mentally handicapped employee and wasn't sure I wanted one. I wasn't sure how my customers would react to Stevie.

He was short, a little dumpy with the smooth facial features and thick-tongued speech of Downs Syndrome. I wasn't worried about most of my trucker customers because truckers don't generally care who buses tables as long as the meatloaf platter is good and the pies are homemade. 

The four-wheeler drivers were the ones who concerned me; the mouthy college kids traveling to school; the yuppie snobs who secretly polish their silverware with their napkins for fear of catching some dreaded "truck stop germ," the pairs of white-shirted businessmen on expense accounts who think every truck stop waitress wants to be flirted with. I knew those people would be uncomfortable around Stevie so I closely watched him for the first few weeks. 

I shouldn't have worried. After the first week, Stevie had my staff wrapped around his stubby little finger, and within a month my truck regulars had adopted him as their official truck stop mascot. 

After that, I really didn't care what the rest of the customers thought of him. He was like a 21-year-old kid in blue jeans and Nikes, eager to laugh and eager to please, but fierce in his attention to his duties.
Every salt and pepper shaker was exactly in its place, not a bread crumb or coffee spill was visible when Stevie got done with the table. Our only problem was persuading him to wait to clean a table until after the customers were finished.
He would hover in the background, shifting his weight from one foot to the other, scanning the dining room until a table was empty. Then he would scurry to the empty table and carefully bus dishes and glasses onto his cart and meticulously wipe the table up with a practiced flourish of his rag.
If he thought a customer was watching, his brow would pucker with added concentration. He took pride in doing his job exactly right, and you had to love how hard he tried to please each and every person he met.

Over time, we learned that he lived with his mother, a widow who was disabled after repeated surgeries for cancer. They lived on their Social Security benefits in public housing two miles from the truck stop. Their social worker, who stopped to check on him every so often, admitted they had fallen between the cracks. Money was tight, and what I paid him was probably the difference between them being able to live together and Stevie being sent to a group home.
That's why the restaurant was a gloomy place that morning last August, the first morning in three years that Stevie missed work. 

He was at the Mayo Clinic in Rochester getting a new valve or something put in his heart. His social worker said that people with Downs Syndrome often have heart problems at an early age so this wasn't unexpected, and there was a good chance he would come through the surgery in good shape and be back at work in a few months. 

A ripple of excitement ran through the staff later that morning when word came that he was out of surgery, in recovery, and doing fine.

Frannie, the head waitress, let out a war hoop and did a little dance in the aisle when she heard the good news. 

Marvin Ringers, one of our regular trucker customers, stared at the sight of this 50-year-old grandmother of four doing a victory shimmy beside his table. 

Frannie blushed, smoothed her apron and shot Marvin a withering look. 

He grinned. "OK, Frannie, what was that all about?" he asked. 

"We just got word that Stevie is out of surgery and going to be okay." 

"I was wondering where he was. I had a new joke to tell him. What was the surgery about?" 

Frannie quickly told Marvin and the two other drivers sitting at his booth about Stevie's surgery, then sighed: " Yeah, I'm glad he is going to be OK," she said. "But I don't know how he and his Mom are going to handle all the bills. >From what I hear, they're barely getting by as it is."
Marvin nodded thoughtfully, and Frannie hurried off to wait on the rest of her tables.
Since I hadn't had time to round up a busboy to replace Stevie and really didn't want to replace him, the girls were busing their own tables that day until we decided what to do. 

After the morning rush, Frannie walked into my office. She had a couple of paper napkins in her hand and a funny look on her face. 

"What's up?" I asked. 

"I didn't get that table where Marvin and his friends were sitting cleared off after they left, and Pete and Tony were sitting there when I got back to clean it off," she said. "This was folded and tucked under a coffee cup." 

She handed the napkin to me, and three $20 bills fell onto my desk when I opened it. On the outside, in big, bold letters, was printed "Something For Stevie." 

"Pete asked me what that was all about," she said, "so I told him about Stevie and his Mom and everything, and Pete looked at Tony and Tony looked at Pete, and they ended up giving me this." She handed me another paper napkin that had "Something For Stevie"scrawled on its outside. Two $50 bills were tucked within its folds. Frannie looked at me with wet, shiny eyes, shook her head and said simply: "truckers." 

That was three months ago. Today is Thanksgiving, the first day Stevie is supposed to be back to work. 

His placement worker said he's been counting the days until the doctor said he could work, and it didn't matter at all that it was a holiday. He called 10 times in the past week, making sure we knew he was coming, fearful that we had forgotten him or that his job was in jeopardy.
I arranged to have his mother bring him to work. I then met them in the parking lot and invited them both to celebrate his day back. 

Stevie was thinner and paler, but couldn't stop grinning as he pushed through the doors and headed for the back room where his apron and busing cart were waiting. 

"Hold up there, Stevie, not so fast," I said. I took him and his mother by their arms. "Work can wait for a minute. To celebrate your coming back, breakfast for you and your mother is on me!" I led them toward a large corner booth at the rear of the room. 

I could feel and hear the rest of the staff following behind as we marched through the dining room. Glancing over my shoulder, I saw booth after booth of grinning truckers empty and join the procession. We stopped in front of the big table.
Its surface was covered with coffee cups, saucers and dinner plates, all sitting slightly crooked on dozens of folded paper napkins. "First thing you have to do, Stevie, is clean up this mess," I said. I tried to sound stern. 

Stevie looked at me, and then at his mother, then pulled out one of the napkins. It had "Something for Stevie" printed on the outside. As he picked it up, two $10 bills fell onto the table. 

Stevie stared at the money, then at all the napkins peeking from beneath the tableware, each with his name printed or scrawled on it. I turned to his mother.
"There's more than $10,000 in cash and checks on that table, all from truckers and trucking companies that heard about your problems. "Happy Thanksgiving." 

Well, it got real noisy about that time, with everybody hollering and shouting, and there were a few tears, as well. 

But you know what's funny? While everybody else was busy shaking hands and hugging each other, Stevie, with a big smile on his face, was busy clearing all the cups and dishes from the table. 

"Best worker I ever hired."

~ Plant a seed and watch it grow. ~

At this point, you can bury this inspirational message or forward it fulfilling the need! 

If you shed a tear, hug yourself, because you are a compassionate person.


... Well, don't just sit there! Send this story on! Keep it going, this is a good one that's worth sending on...

Millbury, MA

  • | Post Points: 20
Top 10 Contributor
Female
Posts 13,286
Points 173,448
Marie replied on Thu, Jan 31 2013 5:01 PM | Locked

Ramona, I can certainly relate to that.  LOL

Millbury, MA

  • | Post Points: 5
Top 10 Contributor
Female
Posts 27,720
Points 436,825
Nana replied on Thu, Jan 31 2013 5:27 PM | Locked

Marie

I have read this before but it never fails to make me cry.  Such a beautiful and touching story.  Thanks for sharing.

Vinton, Virginia

  • | Post Points: 20
Top 75 Contributor
Female
Posts 1,121
Points 14,465
Dawn replied on Thu, Jan 31 2013 7:08 PM | Locked

Photo

  • | Post Points: 35
Top 10 Contributor
Female
Posts 13,286
Points 173,448
Marie replied on Fri, Feb 1 2013 3:27 PM | Locked


In a Detroit church one Sunday morning, a preacher said, "Anyone with 'special needs" who wants to be prayed over, please come forward to the front by the altar."

With that, Leroy got in line, and when it was his turn, the Preacher asked, "Leroy, what do you want me to pray about for you?"

Leroy replied, "Preacher, I need you to pray for help with my hearing."

The preacher put one finger of one hand in Leroy's ear, placed his other hand on top of Leroy's head, and then prayed and prayed and prayed. He prayed a "blue streak" for Leroy, and the whole congregation joined in with great enthusiasm.









After a few minutes, the preacher removed his hands, stood back and asked, "Leroy, how is your hearing now?"

Leroy answered, " I don't know. It ain't 'til Thursday.

Millbury, MA

  • | Post Points: 5
Top 10 Contributor
Female
Posts 24,485
Points 362,207
Kris replied on Fri, Feb 1 2013 9:52 PM | Locked

Good jokes Marie.

I've seen the one about "Stevie" before. A very good message. Thanks for sharing.

  • | Post Points: 5
Top 10 Contributor
Female
Posts 24,485
Points 362,207
Kris replied on Fri, Feb 1 2013 9:52 PM | Locked

Dawn, I love it. 

  • | Post Points: 5
Top 10 Contributor
Female
Posts 24,485
Points 362,207
Kris replied on Fri, Feb 1 2013 9:55 PM | Locked

Ramona:
> Should I Really Join Facebook? (Priceless)

I'm nowhere close to 70 but I can relate. I also joined Facebook under duress.

The "bi-sacksual" comment really did me in. LOL.

  • | Post Points: 35
Top 50 Contributor
Female
Posts 2,541
Points 46,765
Debbie-do replied on Sun, Feb 3 2013 9:21 AM | Locked

And that varies from day to day...
Shared with love
Carole <3

Southwest of San Antonio

  • | Post Points: 5
Top 50 Contributor
Posts 2,670
Points 37,665
ls2116 replied on Sun, Feb 3 2013 10:15 AM | Locked

I joined again if ifind the regs I'd use that site as backup when this is down.

Quilting My Rainbow

  • | Post Points: 20
Top 10 Contributor
Female
Posts 13,286
Points 173,448
Marie replied on Sun, Feb 3 2013 10:38 AM | Locked

 

You could have knocked me over with a feather when I saw who they were
talking about...I had no idea....wait till you see who it is. What a
simple but most sincere and moving acceptance speech. Loved his
recommendation for all our politicos.
Many people may have forgotten about his time in the U.S. Army. He is the son
of an Air Force General, and an accomplished Golden Gloves boxer, and
he graduated from Pomona College with a B.S. degree, and then became a
Rhodes Scholar from Oxford University .

He joined the U.S. Army at the prompting of his father. After
graduating from Officer Candidate School he attended and graduated
from both Army Airborne and Ranger training in the very top of each
class. He was selected for U. S. Army Special Forces Training, but
refused so that he could attend pilot training
where he earned his wings, and became an accomplished U.S. Army
helicopter (gunship) pilot, and achieved the rank of Captain.

He was about to be promoted to the rank of Major, and appointed to
teach at West Point when he resigned his commission from the Army to
go into music and acting. You can tell in this video that his time in
the military means a lot to him. I won't give away who it is. You
should just watch.I bet you will be surprised!

click: HERE <http://www.youtube.com/embed/PU-A7eqadho?rel=0>

Millbury, MA

  • | Post Points: 80
Top 75 Contributor
Female
Posts 1,538
Points 23,145
Susie replied on Sun, Feb 3 2013 11:52 AM | Locked

Darn it...I can't get it to open!

Chicagoland, Illinois

  • | Post Points: 5
Top 25 Contributor
Female
Posts 3,504
Points 50,725
Ginny replied on Sun, Feb 3 2013 11:57 AM | Locked

Thank you, Marie.  I am in awe.     Ginny

 

  • | Post Points: 20
Top 25 Contributor
Female
Posts 4,687
Points 66,025
Bonita replied on Sun, Feb 3 2013 1:39 PM | Locked

Wonderful story Marie. I've always been a fan of his.

  • | Post Points: 20
Page 47 of 59 (879 items) « First ... < Previous 45 46 47 48 49 Next > ... Last » | RSS
Have a Question? | About Us | Privacy Policy | Join Today © 2014 F+W All rights reserved.
By using this site, you agree to our Terms of Use