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Please read the story... I have person comment on the bottom- Kim

" Something For Stevie "

I try not to be biased, but I had my doubts about hiring Stevie. 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 costomers 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 businessmen 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 trucker 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 the cart and meticulously wipe the table 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 whoop and did a little dance in

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 wasthe

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 bills 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 in 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 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 was 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

Hi all..

Well, it is 2 am and I am sitting her crying my eyes out. Let me explain

before you all think that I have gone completely nuts.

I just walked in from work, I have been in the office since 7:45 am this

morning and will return in 4 hours for another day of the same. Many of

you know I work with 156 " Steve's " and in 5 days our biggest fund raiser

will be happening.

I was almost feeling bad for myself because today I broke my toes at work,

2 nails, sun burn is killing me and I am over tired. SHIT .. I sound like

my grand mother because everyone of those 'problems' are worth the outsome

of the event.

I am so thankful for my 156 Stevies, I really do not care if the whole week

is like this.

All I know is that we are still $3,500 from goal and I swear I am going to

make it happen...I am not sure I could live with myself if I did not.

Thank you to the person some where in cyber land for reminding me why I

love my job so much and everyone thanks for letting me cry with happiness

and share my love for my clients.

Kim