The folded napkin … a trucker’s story

The owner of a restaurant tried not to be biased, but she had doubts about hiring Stevie, but his placement counselor assured her that he would be a good, reliable busboy.

But she never had a mentally handicapped employee and was not sure that she wanted one and was not sure how her customers would react to Stevie.

He was short, a little dumpy with smooth facial features and thick tongued speech of Downs Syndrome. She was not worried about most of her trucker customers, because they do not care about who buses tables as long as the meatloaf platter is good and the pies are homemade.

The four-wheel drivers were the ones that concerned her, the monthly college kids going to school, the yuppies who polish their silverware with their napkins for fear of catching some “truck-stop germ,” the white shirted men with expense accounts who think every waitress wants to be flirted with. She felt those people would be uncomfortable around Stevie, so she watched him for the first few weeks.

The owner should not have worried because after the first week Stevie had her staff wrapped around his little finger, and within a month her truck drivers had adopted him as their truck stop mascot.

After that, she did not care what the rest of the customers thought of him. He was like a 21-year-old kid in blue jeans eager to laugh and to please but fierce in his attention to his duties.

Every salt and pepper shaker was in place. Not a bread crumb or coffee spill was visible when Stevie finished with the table.

The only problem was getting him to clean the table after the customers were finished. He would wait in the background, shifting his weight from one foot to another until a table was empty. Then he would hurry to the table and carefully bus the dishes onto his cart and wipe the table with his rag.

He took pride in doing his job right and you had to love how hard he tried to please every person he met.

Stevie lived with his mother, a widow who was disabled after surgeries for cancer. They lived on Social Security benefits in public housing two miles from the truck stop. Their social worker who stopped by to check on him often said their money was tight and what he earned at the truck stop was the difference in them being able to live together rather than Stevie being sent to a group home.

Stevie missed work one morning for the first time in three years. He was at the Mayo Clinic having a new valve put in his heart. His social worker said that people like Stevie often have heart problems at an early age and there was a good chance he would be fine and back to work in a few months.

When word came later that he was doing fine, the staff was so pleased that Fannie, the head waitress, did a dance in the aisle. One of the regular truckers stared at this 50-year-old grandmother doing a shimmy beside his table and wanted to know what that was all about. She told him that Stevie was out of surgery but that she did not know how he and his mom would be able to pay the bills until he got back to work.

The waitress waited to clean the table where the truckers were seated until after they left. When she did clean it, folded and tucked under a napkin were three $20 bills and written on the napkin was: For Stevie. Later, another folded napkin was given to the head waitress with two $50 bills folded under it and a note reading: For Stevie.

Thanksgiving was three months later and was the first day Stevie was to be back at work. His social worker said he had been counting the days until the doctor said he could work. He called 10 times during the past week making sure they knew he was coming back, afraid that his job was in jeopardy.

Arrangements were made to have his mother bring him back to work and the owner met them in the parking lot. Stevie was thinner but could not stop grinning as he came through the door and headed for the room where his apron and busing cart were.

The owner told Stevie to wait just a minute; she took him and his mother to a large corner booth in the rear of the room with the staff following behind them. When they stopped in front of the big table, there were dozens of folded napkins on it. Stevie looked at the owner then at his mother, and when he pulled out one of the napkins it had ‘For Stevie’ printed on the outside and two $10 bills fell on the table.

Stevie stared at the money and all of the other napkins, and when they all were opened more than $10,000 in cash and checks fell on the table with notes written on them to Stevie.

While everyone else was busy shaking hands and hugging each other Stevie, with a big smile on his face, was busy clearing all the dishes from the table. “Best worker I ever hired” the restaurant owner said.

HHJ News