Affecting the lives of others

[Guest guest]

I manage a forum for about 450 Melaleuca customers. A lady from

Chicago, who's a member of this forum, sent the following story because it

fits the Melaleuca company culture. The story contains nothing about

Melaleuca or Melaleuca people. This is what you'd call a nice, gentle story.

So if nice stories are not your thing, you may wish to skip this story. The

story is about two pages long.

 

Rich Putman

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Information Please

 

When I was quite young, my father had one of the first telephones in

our neighborhood. I remember well the polished, old case fastened to

the wall. The shiny receiver hung on the side of the box. I was too

little to reach the telephone, but used to listen with fascination

when my mother used to talk to it.

 

Then I discovered that somewhere inside the wonderful device lived an

amazing person - her name was information Please " and there was

nothing she did not know. " Information Please " could supply anybody's

number and the correct time.

 

My first personal experience with this genie-in-the-bottle came one

day while my mother was visiting a neighbor. Amusing myself at the

tool bench in the basement, I whacked my finger with a hammer. The

pain was terrible, but there didn't seem to be any reason in crying

because there was no one home to give sympathy. I walked around the

house sucking my throbbing finger, finally arriving at the stairway.

The telephone! Quickly, I ran for the footstool in the parlor and

dragged it to the landing.

 

Climbing up, I unhooked the receiver in the parlor and held it to my

ear. " Information Please, " I said into the mouthpiece just above my

head. A click or two and a small clear voice spoke into my ear.

" Information " " I hurt my finger... " I wailed into the phone. The tears

came readily enough now that I had an audience. " Isn't your mother

home? " came the question. " Nobody's home but me, " I blubbered. Are

you bleeding? " the voice asked. " No, " I replied. " I hit my finger with

the hammer and it hurts. " " Can you open your icebox? " she asked. I

said I could. " Then chip off a little piece of ice and hold it to

your finger, " said the voice.

 

After that, I called " Information Please " for everything. I asked her

for help with my geography and she told me where Philadelphia

was. She helped me with my math. She told me my pet chipmunk that I

had caught in the park just the day before, would eat fruit and nuts.

 

Then, there was the time Petey, our pet canary died. I called

" Information Please " and told her the sad story. She listened, then

said the usual things grown-ups say to soothe a child. But I was

consoled. I asked her, " Why is it that birds should sing so

beautifully and bring joy to all families, only to end up as a heap of

feathers on the bottom of a cage? "

 

She must have sensed my deep concern, for she said quietly, " Paul,

always remember that there are other worlds to sing in. "

Somehow I felt better.

 

Another day I was on the telephone. " Information Please. "

" Information, " said the now familiar voice. " How do you spell fix? " I

asked. All this took place in a small town in the Pacific Northwest.

When I was nine years old, we moved across the country to Boston; I

missed my friend very much. " Information Please " belonged in that old

wooden box back home and I somehow never thought of trying the tall,

shiny new phone that sat on the table in the hall. As I grew into my

teens, the memories of those childhood conversations never really left

me. Often, in moments of doubt and perplexity I would recall the

serene sense of security I had then. I appreciated now how patient,

understanding, and kind she was to have spent her time on a little

boy.

 

A few years later, on my way west to college, my plane put down in

Seattle I had about half-an-hour or so between planes. I spent 15

minutes or so on the phone with my sister, who lived there now. Then,

without thinking what I was doing, I dialed my hometown

operator and said, " Information, please. "

 

Miraculously, I heard the small, clear voice I knew so well.

" Information. " I hadn't planned this, but I heard myself saying,

" Could you please tell me how to spell fix? " There was a long pause.

Then came the soft spoken answer, " I guess your finger must have

healed by now. " I laughed, " So it's really still you, " I said. " I

wonder if you have any idea how much you meant to me during that

time. "

 

" I wonder, " she said " if you know how much your calls meant to me. I

never had any children and I used to look forward to your calls. " I

told her how often I had thought of her over the years and I asked if

I could call her again when I came back to visit my sister. Please

do, " she said. " Just ask for Sally. "

 

Three months later I was back in Seattle. A different voice answered,

" Information. " I asked for Sally. " Are you a friend? " she said. " Yes,

a very old friend, " I answered. " I'm sorry to have to tell you this, "

she said. " Sally had been working part time the last few years because

she was sick. She died five weeks ago. " Before I could hang up she

said, " Wait a minute. Did you say your name was Paul? "

 

" Yes. "

 

" Well, Sally left a message for you. She wrote it down in case you

called. Let me read it to you. The note said, " Tell him I still say

there are other worlds to sing in. He'll know what I mean. " I thanked

her and hung up. I knew what Sally meant. Never underestimate the

impression you may make on others.

 

Whose life have you touched today?

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