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WITandWISDOM(tm) - March 5, 2003
"Have regular hours for work and play; make each day both useful and pleasant, and prove that you understand the worth of time by employing it well. Then youth will be delightful, old age will bring few regrets, and life will become a beautiful success." - Louisa May Alcott, American novelist
Source: Nybble Weekly Newsletter, http://groups.yahoo.com/group/nybble
~~~~~~~ SPECIAL THOUGHTS:
By Jim Rohn
Many years ago my lady friend and I were on a trip to Carmel, California for some shopping and exploring. On the way we stopped at a service station. As soon as we parked our car in front of the pumps, a young man, about eighteen or nineteen, came bouncing out to the car and with a big smile said, "Can I help you?"
"Yes," I answered. "A full tank of gas, please." I wasn't prepared for what followed. In this day and age of self-service and deteriorating customer treatment, this young man checked every tire, washed every window - even the sunroof - singing and whistling the whole time. We couldn't believe both the quality of service and his upbeat attitude about his work.
When he brought the bill I said to the young man, "Hey, you really have taken good care of us. I appreciate it."
He replied, "I really enjoy working. It's fun for me and I get to meet nice people like you."
This kid was really something!
I said, "We're on our way to Carmel and we want to get some milkshakes. Can you tell us where we can find the nearest Baskin-Robbins?"
"Baskin-Robbins is just a few blocks away," he said as he gave us exact directions. Then he added, "Don't park out front - park around to the side so your car won't get sideswiped."
What a kid!
As we got to the ice cream store we ordered milkshakes, except that instead of two, we ordered three. Then we drove back to the station. Our young friend dashed out to greet us. "Hey, I see you got your milkshakes."
"Yes, and this one is for you!"
His mouth fell open. "For me?"
"Sure. With all the fantastic service you gave us, I couldn't leave you out of the milkshake deal."
"Wow!" was his astonished reply.
As we drove off I could see him in my rear-view mirror just standing there, grinning from ear to ear.
Now, what did this little act of generosity cost me? Only about two dollars - you see, it's not the money, it's the style.
Well, I must have been feeling especially creative that day, so on our arrival in Carmel I drove directly to a flower shop. As we walked inside I said to the florist, "I need a long-stemmed rose for my lady to carry while we go shopping in Carmel."
The florist, a rather unromantic type, replied, "We sell them by the dozen."
"I don't need a dozen," I said, "just one."
"Well," he replied haughtily, "it will cost you two dollars."
"Wonderful," I exclaimed. "There's nothing worse than a cheap rose."
Selecting the rose with some deliberation, I handed it to my friend. She was so impressed! And the cost? Two dollars. Just two dollars. A bit later she looked up and said, "Jim, I must be the only woman in Carmel today carrying a rose." And I believe she probably was.
Can you imagine the opportunity to create magic with those around you, and all for the cost of a few dollars, some imagination and care.
Remember, it is not the amount that matters but the thought and care that often has the greatest impact upon those you love.
To Your Success,
This article is by Jim Rohn, America's Foremost Business Philosopher. To subscribe to the Free Jim Rohn Weekly E-zine go to http://www.jimrohn.com and also receive 20-60% off on all audios, books and tapes.
~~~~~~~ THIS & THAT:
"Oh, No!" he gasped as he surveyed the disaster before him. Never in his 40 years of life had he seen anything like it. How anyone could have survived he did not know.
He could only hope that somewhere amid the overwhelming destruction he would find his 16-year-old son. Only the slim hope of finding Danny kept him from turning and fleeing the scene. He took a deep breath and proceeded.
Walking was virtually impossible with so many things strewn across his path. He moved ahead slowly.
"Danny! Danny!" he whispered to himself. He tripped and almost fell several times. He heard someone, or something, move. At least he thought he did. Perhaps, he was just hoping he did. He shook his head and felt his gut tighten.
He couldn't understand how this could have happened. There was some light but not enough to see very much. Something cold and wet brushed against his hand. He jerked it away.
In desperation, he took another step then cried out, "Danny!".
From a nearby pile of unidentified material, he heard his son. "Yes, Dad," he said, in a voice so weak it could hardly be heard.
"It's time to get up and get ready for school," the man sighed, "and, for heaven's sake, clean up this room."
Source: Colorado Comments, http://coloradocomments.com/
~~~~~~~ KEEP SMILING:
About a year ago my sister, who lives in Virginia, was talking with her four year old son, Brent. He was asking her why all their relatives from Wisconsin talk funny and sound like their noses are plugged up.
"They think we have an accent," she replied.
"But they have an accent, right?", Brent asked. "They talk funny?"
"Everybody talks in different ways" she tried to explain. "To them, we sound like we talk very slow and all our words are d-r-a-w-n out."
His eyes got big, and he whispered seriously, "Oh, no. You mean they hear funny too?"
Source: Clean Hewmor, http://associate.com/lists.shtml
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