LJ Idol Week 4
As a person who has been blind since birth, I have countless examples of a back that gets bent, but does not break. It gets quite a bit of riding, but straightens up again, only to repeat the entire process again and again ad nauseam. It is a large part of what life is made of if you are a woman with a disability. Below, I give you one such example.
I changed my major from music to Social work in the middle of my sophomore year at my university. This meant I would be on the five-year plan, but when I thought of what awaited me after graduation: convincing prospective employer after prospective employer that I could walk, talk, breathe, go to the bathroom, and, very likely, perform any job duties they would expect of me if hired, I was not bothered by the extra year in college. Even in college, I almost immediately got a taste of what I have described above.
About two weeks into the term, there was a welcoming event for all of the new Bachelor’s students. It was a chance to meet some of the professors we would be working with and also a few representatives from local agencies we would later choose from when it was time to do internships during our senior year.
I listened with limited attention to all the introductory words about how we had all made an altruistic choice to serve our fellow human beings and so on. I was interested in what the reps from the agencies would say. I was roughly two years from my internship, but I was eager to begin the information-gathering process.
One of the women who spoke was from our local crisis intervention center, Gryphon Place. The first thing I liked was the fact that the name was spelled like the bird. The other thing that caught my ear was that they desperately needed volunteers for a spring training that was coming up in a couple of months. She pointed out that the empathy training Gryphon provided was well-known and quite incredible. It would be very beneficial for us at any time, and would also provide them with potential volunteers. It was very part-time and shouldn’t interfere with our work load, especially since summer was not a busy time for us.
Once you went through training, you answered phones and talked to the callers and, if necessary, gave them referrals to services in the community that could be helpful to them. There was always a supervisor and, at least, one other veteran staff on a shift with new volunteers. No new volunteers ever worked overnights, nor did they ever talk with a drop-in client unless a staff person was present.
All of this sounded great to me and I was thrilled by this unexpected opportunity. I was very excited and thought I would apply and see if I could get accepted.
After the program I shook hands with her, but did not give her my name, nor did I say anything about my interest in the center’s volunteer program. For her part, she was pleasant and said she hoped I enjoyed a very successful time in the social work department.
The next day I called her and set up an interview. As I often do, I waited until the end of the call to let her know that I was blind, so that if she had particular questions or issues that might be relevant, we could discuss them at the interview. It’s never good to start out with the mention of the B word because then you often do not get the interview. However, if you fail to mention it, it is a surprise, and that definitely does not work in your favor. Once you have been given an interview time, it is harder for them to refuse you with any believability.
After sitting down in her office, she started by explaining to me that she was sorry to have gotten me there under false pretenses, but that she needed to be honest and inform me that at the time there were no vacancies in the volunteer staff and she did not foresee any in the next year.
I told her that was quite interesting since, when she spoke at the university, she almost begged people to apply for the spring training because there was a great need for new volunteers. Perhaps, she had no spaces for people who were blind?
She assured me this was not the issue and that she must have misspoken. I asked her if she had misspoken at the university or here in her office.
After a quick shuffle of papers, she said that there actually were a few open spaces, but there were other issues. She said it would be impossible for me to do the job, because I would not see the lights on the phone lines. With immense pride and satisfaction, I showed her a nifty, small device that could be held over the buttons and it would vibrate when it saw they various indicator lights. It had a different vibration pattern for hold, for incoming calls, and for ongoing calls. This was 1981, so it was quite high-tech. I think under other circumstances, she may have been impressed, but certainly not under these.
She sounded quite sorrowful when she told me that she was very sorry, but the job was not only phone coverage. She told me that since I could not see, the guidelines of the agency would not allow me to see drop-in clients by myself and would not allow me to stay overnight. She said that both of these were requirements of the position.
I asked her if the rules had changed in the last week, because, and then I reminded her, word for word what she had said when she spoke at the meeting. I said that it felt very much that she either did not like the idea of a volunteer who was blind, or that perhaps she was not as familiar with the job descriptions of her agency as she should be. I helpfully suggested she may want to review them so that this sort of unpleasantness did not occur with other want-to-be volunteers.
After a long silence, she commented that I was certainly an attentive listener. I agreed and pointed out what an important skill that was to possess when doing this particular job.
Lastly, she showed me the information and referral volume and said she truly did not see how I could get that information when I did not read print. With my calm amazingly still intact, I explained to her that I would gladly put that information into braille on my own time, and since it was publicly available, there were no confidentiality issues and anyone could read it to me.
I attended the training and I loved it. During the training, matters of confidentiality were discuss and the staff and new trainees were eager to come up with ways of dealing with these that were within the boundaries of the agency. All but one person in the agency seemed very excited about a new challenge and offered various ways of being helpful.
I must say that the back was bent a few more times during my first few weeks on the phones. Two calls are very memorable to me. After each one I thought my career as a crisis center volunteer would come to a grinding halt. Fortunately it did not.
The second call I took was from a man who was extremely upset and who said he was unable to stay in his home alone. He wanted to get into crisis housing. While I was talking to him, the staff around me wasengaged in a rollicking discussion of a popular new movie just out at the time. It was, “The best Little Whorehouse In Texas”. Totally oblivious to the fact that a brand new person was on the phone, they became louder and louder. Finally, after hearing the title of this movie so many times, and trying to listen to my client, who was in need of my help, I almost screamed at them that they needed to be quiet so I could concentrate.
“This man needs to get into the crisis whorehouse!” I exclaimed.
Stunned silence followed, broken finally by bits of laughter and someone saying that he imagined a lot of people would like to get in there. Finally, a supervisor thought to ask me the all-important question,
“Is that line on hold?”
Fortunately for all of us, it was. I did go forward with the call and helped him get into the right place. I was a bit afraid of the phone for qwhile after that call.
Some time later, with myself and one other man present, I took another call which would prove educational for me. This call was from a man who seemed very much in need and he said,
"Do you mind if I come?"
I was a rather innocent young woman at that time. The only thing I could think of was that people either come home, come to a conclusion, or come unhinged. I decided he must mean the last of these and in that case, I was glad to tell him that he certainly could come because we took drop-Ins until midnight and we would be glad to help him with whatever his problem was. He quickly hung up; as did I.
My fellow staffer commented on the duration of the call. I explained the content of the conversation to him and, not for the first time after I spoke about a call, there was total silence. He then began to laugh. He actually howled. I was puzzled. He asked me if I had done that on purpose because it was a wonderful answer for a call such as that and he thought I should patent it. I became more puzzled. He finally figured out that I truly did not know what the man really wanted. I told him I did not know that particular word had more than one meaning. He said it depended on the spelling. He never did explain it to me that night.
No! I do not need any comments attempting an explanation. I have had it figured out now for many, many years, but thanks for the offer!
I changed my major from music to Social work in the middle of my sophomore year at my university. This meant I would be on the five-year plan, but when I thought of what awaited me after graduation: convincing prospective employer after prospective employer that I could walk, talk, breathe, go to the bathroom, and, very likely, perform any job duties they would expect of me if hired, I was not bothered by the extra year in college. Even in college, I almost immediately got a taste of what I have described above.
About two weeks into the term, there was a welcoming event for all of the new Bachelor’s students. It was a chance to meet some of the professors we would be working with and also a few representatives from local agencies we would later choose from when it was time to do internships during our senior year.
I listened with limited attention to all the introductory words about how we had all made an altruistic choice to serve our fellow human beings and so on. I was interested in what the reps from the agencies would say. I was roughly two years from my internship, but I was eager to begin the information-gathering process.
One of the women who spoke was from our local crisis intervention center, Gryphon Place. The first thing I liked was the fact that the name was spelled like the bird. The other thing that caught my ear was that they desperately needed volunteers for a spring training that was coming up in a couple of months. She pointed out that the empathy training Gryphon provided was well-known and quite incredible. It would be very beneficial for us at any time, and would also provide them with potential volunteers. It was very part-time and shouldn’t interfere with our work load, especially since summer was not a busy time for us.
Once you went through training, you answered phones and talked to the callers and, if necessary, gave them referrals to services in the community that could be helpful to them. There was always a supervisor and, at least, one other veteran staff on a shift with new volunteers. No new volunteers ever worked overnights, nor did they ever talk with a drop-in client unless a staff person was present.
All of this sounded great to me and I was thrilled by this unexpected opportunity. I was very excited and thought I would apply and see if I could get accepted.
After the program I shook hands with her, but did not give her my name, nor did I say anything about my interest in the center’s volunteer program. For her part, she was pleasant and said she hoped I enjoyed a very successful time in the social work department.
The next day I called her and set up an interview. As I often do, I waited until the end of the call to let her know that I was blind, so that if she had particular questions or issues that might be relevant, we could discuss them at the interview. It’s never good to start out with the mention of the B word because then you often do not get the interview. However, if you fail to mention it, it is a surprise, and that definitely does not work in your favor. Once you have been given an interview time, it is harder for them to refuse you with any believability.
After sitting down in her office, she started by explaining to me that she was sorry to have gotten me there under false pretenses, but that she needed to be honest and inform me that at the time there were no vacancies in the volunteer staff and she did not foresee any in the next year.
I told her that was quite interesting since, when she spoke at the university, she almost begged people to apply for the spring training because there was a great need for new volunteers. Perhaps, she had no spaces for people who were blind?
She assured me this was not the issue and that she must have misspoken. I asked her if she had misspoken at the university or here in her office.
After a quick shuffle of papers, she said that there actually were a few open spaces, but there were other issues. She said it would be impossible for me to do the job, because I would not see the lights on the phone lines. With immense pride and satisfaction, I showed her a nifty, small device that could be held over the buttons and it would vibrate when it saw they various indicator lights. It had a different vibration pattern for hold, for incoming calls, and for ongoing calls. This was 1981, so it was quite high-tech. I think under other circumstances, she may have been impressed, but certainly not under these.
She sounded quite sorrowful when she told me that she was very sorry, but the job was not only phone coverage. She told me that since I could not see, the guidelines of the agency would not allow me to see drop-in clients by myself and would not allow me to stay overnight. She said that both of these were requirements of the position.
I asked her if the rules had changed in the last week, because, and then I reminded her, word for word what she had said when she spoke at the meeting. I said that it felt very much that she either did not like the idea of a volunteer who was blind, or that perhaps she was not as familiar with the job descriptions of her agency as she should be. I helpfully suggested she may want to review them so that this sort of unpleasantness did not occur with other want-to-be volunteers.
After a long silence, she commented that I was certainly an attentive listener. I agreed and pointed out what an important skill that was to possess when doing this particular job.
Lastly, she showed me the information and referral volume and said she truly did not see how I could get that information when I did not read print. With my calm amazingly still intact, I explained to her that I would gladly put that information into braille on my own time, and since it was publicly available, there were no confidentiality issues and anyone could read it to me.
I attended the training and I loved it. During the training, matters of confidentiality were discuss and the staff and new trainees were eager to come up with ways of dealing with these that were within the boundaries of the agency. All but one person in the agency seemed very excited about a new challenge and offered various ways of being helpful.
I must say that the back was bent a few more times during my first few weeks on the phones. Two calls are very memorable to me. After each one I thought my career as a crisis center volunteer would come to a grinding halt. Fortunately it did not.
The second call I took was from a man who was extremely upset and who said he was unable to stay in his home alone. He wanted to get into crisis housing. While I was talking to him, the staff around me wasengaged in a rollicking discussion of a popular new movie just out at the time. It was, “The best Little Whorehouse In Texas”. Totally oblivious to the fact that a brand new person was on the phone, they became louder and louder. Finally, after hearing the title of this movie so many times, and trying to listen to my client, who was in need of my help, I almost screamed at them that they needed to be quiet so I could concentrate.
“This man needs to get into the crisis whorehouse!” I exclaimed.
Stunned silence followed, broken finally by bits of laughter and someone saying that he imagined a lot of people would like to get in there. Finally, a supervisor thought to ask me the all-important question,
“Is that line on hold?”
Fortunately for all of us, it was. I did go forward with the call and helped him get into the right place. I was a bit afraid of the phone for qwhile after that call.
Some time later, with myself and one other man present, I took another call which would prove educational for me. This call was from a man who seemed very much in need and he said,
"Do you mind if I come?"
I was a rather innocent young woman at that time. The only thing I could think of was that people either come home, come to a conclusion, or come unhinged. I decided he must mean the last of these and in that case, I was glad to tell him that he certainly could come because we took drop-Ins until midnight and we would be glad to help him with whatever his problem was. He quickly hung up; as did I.
My fellow staffer commented on the duration of the call. I explained the content of the conversation to him and, not for the first time after I spoke about a call, there was total silence. He then began to laugh. He actually howled. I was puzzled. He asked me if I had done that on purpose because it was a wonderful answer for a call such as that and he thought I should patent it. I became more puzzled. He finally figured out that I truly did not know what the man really wanted. I told him I did not know that particular word had more than one meaning. He said it depended on the spelling. He never did explain it to me that night.
No! I do not need any comments attempting an explanation. I have had it figured out now for many, many years, but thanks for the offer!