Re: [MOL] Stevie [03185] Medicine On Line


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Re: [MOL] Stevie



Since I work with handicapped people, I could really relate to this. Thank you Pam.
Love Mam
-----Original Message-----
From: deerfork <deerfork@chalkbuttes.com>
To: deerforks ranch middleton <deerfork@chalkbuttes.com>; Terry Wills <dowilcat@coffey.com>; Cheryl Hirst - <CHirst1121@AOL.COM>; mol-cancer@lists.meds.com <mol-cancer@lists.meds.com>
Date: Friday, 29 January 1999 18:03
Subject: [MOL] Stevie

A wonderful story!  I am still wiping my eyes!
 
 
>
> > > I tried not to be biased in hiring a handicapped person, but his
> > > placement counselor 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 Down 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 "truckstop germ;" the pairs of white shirted business men
on
> > > expense accounts who think every truckstop 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 truckstop mascot.
> > >
> > > After that, I really didn't care what the rest of the customers
> > > thought of him.  He was like a 21-year-old 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 convincing 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 the dishes and glasses onto 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
> > > truckstop.
> > >
> > > Their social worker, which stopped to check on him every so
> > > often, admitted they had fallen between the cracks.  Money was
> tight,
> > > and what I paid him was the 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 Down syndrome
> > > often had heart problems at a 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, my head waitress, let out a war hoop and did a
little
> > > dance the aisle when she heard the good news.  Belle Ringer, one
of
> our
>
> > > regular trucker customers, stared at the sight of the 50-year-old
> > > grandmother of four doing a victory shimmy beside his table.
> Frannie
> > blushed,
> > > smoothed her apron and shot Belle Ringer 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 Belle Ringer and the other two 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."
> > >
> > > Belle Ringer 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 a funny look on her face.
> > > "What's up?" I asked.
> > >
> > > "I didn't get that table where Belle Ringer and his friends were
> > > sitting cleared off after they left, and Pony Pete and Tony Tipper
> 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 fell onto my desk
> > > when I opened it.  On the outside, in big, bold letters, was
printed
> > > "Something For Stevie".
> > >
> > > "Pony 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, 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
> you
> > > 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 possession.
> > >
> > > 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 s> crawled 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 sh> outing, 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, big smile on his face, was busy
> > > clearing all the cups and dishes from the table.  Best worker I
ever
> > hired.
> > >
> > > Author Unknown
> > >
> > > Plant a seed and watch it grow.  At this point, you can bury
> > > this inspirational message or forward it fullfilling the need!
> > >