by Patricia Kepler
Hello, I am a houseplant.
I am not just any houseplant, though. I am an exceptional houseplant. I have been to college. I have an IQ of 145. I have three children, and I have volunteered in their schools and clubs. Yet I am merely a houseplant. I am attractive and add a bit of personality to a room, but as far as society is concerned, relatively useless.
Let me clear things up a bit. All of the above-mentioned qualities do belong to me; the problem is I am blind. I personally don’t consider this to be a problem, but it seems others do. My children range in age from 11 through 19. Five years ago I began looking for employment. All of my children were in school full-time and there was just not much for me to do around the house. I wasn’t looking for anything too ambitious. Just entry-level customer service work. One would think it would be easy for a woman who has gone to college, can boast of a 145 IQ, has been told by many that she is attractive and has a very pleasant personality, and can be tolerant and patient on the phone for hours, would have no problem finding work. I have interviewed for several positions. It seems, however, once they discover that I can’t see it all just becomes too impossible. It doesn’t matter that I have excellent computer skills and that there is adequate adaptive technology out there to make it possible for me to use almost any computer. It doesn’t matter that I would be an eager long-term employee in a field where there is typically very high turnover. All that seems to matter is that I make things a little difficult. They might need to alter their training manual.
For the last two years I have been negotiating with the same company. Two years ago I entered their offices, was interviewed by a very nice person and was told that if the technology could be worked out I could have a part-time day job with their company. Unfortunately, before the final details could be worked out, the human resources person I spoke with was replaced. The second one asked if I could come in for a new interview, since she was totally unfamiliar with me. I agreed.
Then the real fun began. Excuse after excuse came in to explain why I couldn’t start my simple minimum wage job. They would be changing software in six months and would rather I wait so they wouldn’t have to train me twice. This did not keep them from hiring other new employees during this time.
“We don’t know if we can afford to purchase the equipment you would need.” (The company in question is a rather large bank, and equipment can be provided “free” by state agencies in cases where it would be a financial hardship for the employer.)
Keeping this in mind, here is my favorite: “We have not worked out problems with the Y2K bug.” The last excuse was enough to get the EEOC involved. In a conference call with the EEOC, the bank, of course, became quite agreeable. However, they did find a loophole. They agreed to hire me immediately and provide me with the necessary equipment, but apparently they have dropped the part-time customer service position. Furthermore, they now schedule by seniority. Being new, I would be at the bottom of the list and most likely would only be able to get a graveyard position.
As they already knew, I wanted a daytime position. I could not possibly work a graveyard shift and effectively take care of my children. After further discussion with the human resource person, I was informed that the individual who said that I would most likely work a graveyard position was wrong. This bank did not offer graveyard positions. I was told that I would likely have to work an evening shift, though. After a discussion with my husband, I agreed to work an evening shift. I needed to get work experience somewhere, and I would likely be able to switch to a better shift in six months.
The Commission for the Blind began working on assembling the adaptive equipment I would need to perform my duties. I, along with two representatives from the commission, met with the human resource representative and two trainers. We demonstrated screen readers and discussed other changes that would need to be made. I was once again told that this would need to be put off because of system changes. And this was in April 2000. I was last told that they would be available to look into adaptive technology in May. My attempt to get this entry-level job began in the spring of 1998.
I fought the bank as long as I have because I can afford the time. So many others like me have to give up and move on or they would starve. These employers know that in the long run they could stall long enough to rid themselves of us who might make things a little difficult for a while. It looks like this particular bank is planning on continuing this waiting game with me. The majority of all blind people are unemployed. It is not because we are not capable; it is because many people find us undesirable. I could sit at home and be the beautifully decorative houseplant forever. I want, need and deserve more than that.
Blind people tend to get one of two reactions. We are either superhuman because we are able to get up in the morning, feed and clothe ourselves correctly, tie our shoes, and walk down a city block without getting lost. Or we are something to be pitied, someone who should be kept at home so that we don’t make others feel uncomfortable.
How many sighted people have waitresses asking their children what their parents will be ordering? How many of you realize that a disabled person is not allowed to be simply average? We can’t simply follow a daily routine like the rest of the world. Society insists that we provide them with proof of our superhuman accomplishments to prove ourselves worthy of acceptance. The most commonly asked questions I get when meeting someone new are, “What musical instrument do you play? You must have perfect pitch.” Or, “What is it like to have extra-sensitive hearing?”
Of course, merely by offering some critical observations I have set myself up to be dismissed as another disabled stereotype: the bitter self-pitying whiner. Disabled people must be cheerful and inspiring, or silent and invisible.
So once again I have been told that I should not aspire to be anything more than what I am, a beautifully adorned and well-loved houseplant. Stay safe in my little pot and others will be glad to feed and water me. They will take good care of me and make sure nothing bad happens.
My resignation will not last. I will build up my courage again, and perhaps I will show up at your office. Are you hiring college-educated office plants?
Almost three years have passed since I wrote these words. The bank did eventually win. For the sake of my own peace of mind, I did give up the fight. I have devoted this time to rebuilding my self-confidence and self-esteem. I recently shared this story with someone who is now feeling what I was feeling then. She started to cry and told me that it was a relief to learn that someone had found a way to put words to her feelings. I had originally written this more for personal therapeutic reasons than for an audience. After seeing how my story affected this woman, however, I have decided to publish it. I hope it not only serves to help someone currently struggling for acceptance to feel less alone, but I hope my story strikes a chord with those in the position of making hiring decisions.
I am once again a confident person. I know what I want and I have faith that I will get where I want to go.