This is a simple story. It doesn’t rely on soundbites, on spin, on testimonials, or on a brand agency that costs six grand a day. It was just one of those things that happened, coming out of nowhere to leave me standing on a platform on Swindon Railway Station staring vaguely into space, and half smile on my face, and a tatty piece of paper in one hand.

Sometimes, to my excruciating embarrassment, I’m described as a “motivational speaker”. I find this horrendous to be honest, summoning up visions of a chap dancing round the stage, wearing a lapel mike, getting quite sweaty, and making uncomfortable executives high-five and hug each other. He, or she, will probably get quite shouty, and there’s every chance they’ll be American. We don’t really do hugging, us Brits, or whooping. The most you can hope for at a British conference is a stirring round of applause, and perhaps a drunk person approaching you in the bar to ask you about your dog (I have a very famous dog by the way. I’m not even the most well known mammal in my own house).

So you do begin to ask yourself about the motivational tag. Having done this for many years now, I feel all you can do is research your audience well, make sure you deliver a mightily entertaining and relevant talk, and perhaps bring a smile into the working day. There’ll be one or two little gems in there as well – this is a distinctly un-British statement, but dare I say I’m bloody good at what I do – but I can’t revolutionize a company in forty minutes, or boost morale en masse (and anyone who says that they can do this every time, to anyone, anywhere, is talking through their hat).

I love speaking though, and enjoy sharing life experiences I’ve had with leaders and teams in all sorts of strange places doing all sorts of strange things over the last few decades. You don’t stand there and pretend you know all the answers, or that you’re perfect. Of course I’ve got the same problems we all face too, the same issues  – I wonder where the hell all my money goes, I stress about being a good dad, I spend too much time on my mobile, and my house is falling down as I never get round to doing enough / any DIY. Too much to do, not enough me to do it. Same same, and so you look hard at your own motivation (as we all should every now and then of course). But then, a bolt out of the blue, and something truly wonderful happens.

Yesterday I was on a train, approaching Swindon at great speed, which is an alarming position to be in on a number of levels. As I gathered my things together to get off, an immaculately dressed Indian gentleman tapped me on the shoulder. He was impeccably polite, a Sikh (now there’s a great warrior clan by the way, fighting for Britain in both World Wars with extraordinary valour), and had a half smile on his face. He was holding out a small piece of paper.

“I’m so sorry to disturb you,” he said, “but would you mind taking a moment to look at this. Thank you so much.”

And with that, he handed me the note, and turned on a highly polished heel to make his way back to his seat.

I pocketed it, and jumped off the train (which had stopped at the platform I hasten to add, although who hasn’t wanted to roll down a bank having just jumped off a speeding train. Just me? Ah, okay then).

Mad with curiosity, I had only taken a couple of steps before I put down my bags to rummage for the note. Opening it, I saw it was covered on one side by small, very beautiful, neat handwriting. Here’s what it said:

“Sir,

Firstly I sincerely hope you are Monty Halls, otherwise I really will have made an idiot of myself. Secondly please excuse this rather odd approach…..

I wanted to express my appreciation of the motivational speaking you do. After hearing you speak at an event for young people a few years ago, a close friend was inspired to turn around a life all but destroyed by drugs and bad company. Your talk inspired the start of a long but so far successful transformation, which continues to this day. Thank you for showing others what can be achieved.

Best of luck in your on-going endeavours”

And there was his name at the bottom, which I’m not going to reveal for obvious reasons.

That’s the end of the story, but with that small gesture he made much of my working life mean something. Well, mean a lot actually. It was lovely.

So, should you hire a motivational speaker (shall we just settle on calling them “A Speaker” instead?). Do you know, perhaps you should.

P.S. It always helps if they’ve got a famous dog by the way.