A Friend of mine sent me this Truly Inspirational Story this morning,
it brought a tear to me eye and so I am sending it to you to look at
as I think it is also a great lesson for Hypnotists (as I’ll explain at the
Dr. Jonathan Royle – Hypnotist – Circa 1990
Oh and before I share this story with you, be sure to READ
TO THE END as afterwards I will explain what A GREAT LESSON
THIS STORY IS TO HYPNOTIST’S
and what you can learn from it..
The Folded Napkin … A Truckers Story
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 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 business men 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 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
Then he would scurry to the empty table and carefully bus
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 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
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.
Bell Ringer, 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 Belle Ringer
a withering look.
He grinned. “OK, Frannie, what was that all about?”
“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 Bell 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
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 Bell 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
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. 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 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
“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 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,
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
HYPNOTIST’S CAN LEARN TON’S OF STUFF FROM THIS STORY….
Whilst I understand that this is a completely true story, it
does illustrate many of the key components to successful
*Its Captures the Attention and Imagination of the Reader
*It Draws you in emotionally and makes you focus on what
is going to come next..
*By the end of it you almost feel as though you are there
watching like a fly on the wall, arguably it changes your
perception of reality for a short time..
*It makes you feel warm and fuzzy inside…
I could go on and on but “Magic Stories” and how to use
them to have a deeply profound and positive emotional
impact on people for change work is something that is
covered in the NLP Training Section of our amazing
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When you’ve clicked that “buy now” button pat yourself on
the back and feel all warm and fuzzy inside as when you’ve
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THAN YOU EVER DREAMED POSSIBLE
in so many Positive ways..
And whats more you’ll be able to start earning more from
your Hypnosis Skills than you ever dreamed possible and so
when you meet your own “Stevie” in life, you’ll be in a
position to truly help out and feel warm and fuzzy inside
Thats why I always say you’ve got be Selfish first in order
to be able to be totally selfless later…
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People Just Like Stevie from the story above are waiting
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Have A Great Day