The Blind Job Application

- All Men Are Created Equal

So this black transgender female over 40 in a wheelchair rolls into a mosque…you get the picture. Turn on NPR or your tribal TV news outlet or boot up your smartphone at any time and you’ll catch a story on the “ism” du jour: sexism, racism, ageism, identityism or ableism.

It seems that every day there is some news item or a story about “diversity” – a word that has become a semantic tsunami that washes over us daily and, at least in this country, represents anyone and everyone who isn’t a non-disabled straight white man.

I recently caught a story about the people who did the important math calculations for NASA during the early days of the space program, from the late 50s through the Apollo missions to the moon. This was at a time when “computers” were people, not machines. They used slide rules, solved differential equations and did the calculus that sent Alan Shepard up and down and John Glenn orbiting the earth and enabled Neil Armstrong to step onto the lunar surface.

- Neil Armstrong

These computers were black women. You saw newsreel images of white men with crewcuts and chunky glasses in NASA control rooms while these women were hidden in segregated buildings with segregated bathrooms and drinking from separate water fountains. These women were crunching the numbers for the trajectories, orbits and splashdowns that made our space program possible while steeped in a Jim Crow system that told them they were free but not equal.

Why are we so surprised to find out that these complicated calculations were being made by black women? After all, it’s ability that counts, right?

Any contrary language, belief or action that targets a “group” is the product of small-minded people (hello, Donald, are you listening?) and shines a powerful spotlight on the disturbing ambiguity of the human mind. And there appears to be no shortage of those minds sloshing and squishing around in the heads of many these days.

If our inherent nature wasn’t to discriminate against others there would have been no need for civil rights legislation and the passing of the Americans with Disabilities Act and heck, even the need to write down “…all men are created equal…”, the Founding Fathers ironically displaying their prejudice against women! Proof positive of who we are.

As once a sighted person and now totally blind, I can report that blindness has kept some of my prejudicial tendencies at bay. I stopped making those snap judgements that skin color or cultural clothing or body shape prompted in my behavior. All I get are the words coming out of a person’s mouth.

Yes. I do discriminate on the essence of a person – what they can bring to my table or what I might bring to their plate – and accept or dismiss them accordingly. We do need to judge what and who is good or bad for us, but we are all served well to make those decisions based on essence and keep all the isms in check. There is hardly an advantage in dismissing the better candidate.

Hiring and promoting based on ability and performance. What a concept!

Imagine a blind job application. If any and every person applying for a position could apply with their gender, ethnicity, age, identity and disability somehow hidden, what would our workplaces look like? And more importantly, what would be the level of productivity?

Of course, employers should not be asked to hire a person before meeting them. But imagine a completely objective metric being assigned to an application for employment before the boss meets the job-seeker face to face. And if that metric included not only work experience but a measure of intuition by some means as well, it would offer employers a competitive edge by hiring someone who intuits with the best of ‘em.

If we could strip away all the superficial stuff that taints the decision making process, who would we hire? Who would we promote? Alas! Who would we love?

There’s a short overweight Latin woman cleaning houses who would make an excellent CEO if we could just find her…or if she could find us.

And equal pay for equal work? Besides being a no-brainer, another stunning example of how deep discrimination runs like rich red blood through our veins. Certainly as ridiculous as drinking from separate water fountains.

Indeed. All people are created equal. Now if we could just get that woven into the fabric of humanity somehow.

Steve Gladstone

The Blind Dude

Blind Lives Matter

The disproportionate discrimination heaped onto the Afro-American community has inspired the Black Lives Matter movement, campaigning against violence toward black people, and to the broader issues of racial discrimination. Certainly the color of skin prompting bias before you have even said “hello” or exchanged a minute of conversation is absurd, disturbing and diminishes who we are as a species. Yet there it is: if you’re a person of color in a white society, the judging kicks in with amazing speed.

Whether discrimination is learned or baked into our DNA, it seems clear that religious, ethnic, age and gender prejudice is thriving around the planet with no signs of easing up anytime soon. Discrimination, and the fear, rage and violence that broils up from it, continues to be a pox on all our houses.

Prejudgment also applies to the largest minority in our country. Over 64 million, or 1 out of every 5 Americans, live with a disability. However, the prejudice against disabled folks generally takes the form of assumption, dismissal and pity rather than rage.

The most mysterious thing about prejudice is that when it kicks in, it seems to assign a complete set of negative traits to the targeted person. Knee-jerk reactions take hold, and individual personality doesn’t stand a chance. Unless a brief conversation with the prejudger and the prejudged occurs, the whole prejudged person is marginalized and dismissed as unproductive or nefarious.

I felt it myself when I met Danny, a fellow, who at the age of 19, severed his spinal cord when he dove off the mast of a sailing ship into a coral reef. When we first met, I stuck out my hand to shake his. It was limp and without any strength. He was quadriplegic and I immediately figured he was pooched with no ability. Then he invited me out on his sailboat which was rigged so that he could manage the boat himself. Good thing – I’m useless when it comes to trimming sails. He moved to L.A. to pursue a career in acting, appeared in several films, and started up an enterprise helping businesses to become ADA compliant. Danny and I would sometimes step out together – I’d grab the handles of his wheelchair and he would tell me “left and right and stop.” We were a motley crew and remained lifelong friends.

People who casually meet me for the first time generally resort to some blind man stereotype or worse, pity. They will quickly grab my bag of groceries as if my hands are broken or tell me how sorry they are for me. People who do get to know me are at first surprised that I’m a professional actor, president of my local actor’s union, have been a VP of Sales and Human Resources, a playwright, a poet, a songwriter, have two kids and do my own grocery shopping. To them it’s “amazing.” To me, it’s just what I do.

It’s important to make a distinction between having a disability and being disabled. Having a disability means having only one broken something; being disabled suggests you are entirely broken. As I often say, “I’m not disabled, I’m just blind.” I get stuff done by other means.

Like most of the disabled folks I know, their particular disability tends to “disappear” to people who spend time with them, and their abilities emerge, dominate and defy the preconceptions.

Disability isn’t a tragedy. It’s just another way of living. And it matters.

Certainly a world without prejudgment is desired by most people, but people who experience discrimination of any kind don’t live in that sort of kumbaya bubble. I figure it will take several more turns of evolution before our species enlightens to a more inclusive mentality, where tendencies toward stereotype and bias are eliminated from the gene pool.

Until then, we must strive mightily to embrace the notion that there are better ways to deal with the ire that boils up from dated assumptions that marginalize the groups of people who breathe and dream outside our tribes.

For now, we might just try saying “hello” when we first meet someone who appears ‘different.’ And we may find out just how similarly we all dream.

Steve Gladstone

The Blind Dude

Gettin’ it done by other means.

Eating Ants

The other day my daughter came over for a visit. I was in my den when I heard her calling out to me from the kitchen: “Hey dad, there are ants all over your chocolate candy.”

Yikes! I had a flash memory from the night before, eating a couple of pieces from my box of Valentine chocolates which I had been rationing and now was almost empty…except for the ants.

I quickly got to thinking about any weird science I might have swallowed in the past and recalled how I thought the sliced ham I had for lunch earlier tasted a little tangy. When you’re a blind dude, bad strawberries and sour milk are simple to detect, but ant-covered chocolates, not so easy.

I started wondering why I was still alive.

I suppose at their most basic level, ants are protein.

Then I remembered Steve McQueen’s character in the film Papillon, mashing up and eating insects while detained in a French Guiana prison. It didn’t kill him but rather helped sustain him for two years while being held in solitary confinement. I was starting to feel better.

Certainly in some parts of the world, local cuisine includes beetles, grasshoppers and other insects which are dried, fried and covered with seasonings. Desserts include tasty tidbits like Chocolate Covered Scorpion and Chile-Lime Crickets.

According to one source: “…80% of the world views insects as normal food; it's only nations in Europe, Canada and the USA who balk at the idea.”

Was I ahead of the curve?

A quick surf on Google will bring you to organizations that promote the eating of those creepy little critters. One such association boasts: “Eat Bugs, Save the Planet.” There are ‘Bug Festivals’ dedicated to educating us about the nutritional benefits of edible insects.

Notwithstanding the challenges of world hunger, the rising demand for meat, overfishing, current farming practices damaging the environment, polluting the water and air and contributing to the rise in infectious diseases, it may be time to change the way we view food.

Back to what we eat.

I thought about a nice steak – cooked cow, really? Who’d want to eat such an odd looking animal? And sushi…? Hmm, raw fish. Then it hit me: maybe as long as what we eat is dead, it works. Or at least is more appetizing.

We don’t eat living stuff. But lots of other creatures do. Snakes eat live rats, lions eat zebra, lizards eat flies, cats eat lizards, and blind dudes eat ants. No big whoop, eh?

Good thing those big bug movies like “Them!” (a nest of gigantic irradiated ants storming L.A.) and “The Fly” (a scientist mutating into a human fly) are just Sci-Fi. Otherwise, we might also be on the menu.

Dead or alive, food is necessary for survival. And eating responsibly is a worthwhile consideration.

Perhaps someday we’ll hear public service announcements like: “Promote healthy eating and sustainable farming with tasty & edible insects. Eat a bug!”

Until then, I won’t be dusting my chocolates with little ants anytime soon, but won’t freak out if I munch a few along the way.

Steve Gladstone The Blind Dude

Arriving a Day Early

(photos courtesy of George Schiavone) I’m traveling for an organization which recently issued a bulletin indicating the specific travel dates to all participants. This prompted the following email thread. The names have been altered to preserve the identity of the questionable.

Sarah is an administrative Executive for the organization. She knows I am blind.

From: Steve Gladstone

Sent: Thu September 26, 2013 1:52 AM

To: Sarah Wood

Subject: Atlanta travel

Hi Sarah,

I’ve been authorized in the past to travel a day earlier than posted. I wanted to verify this with and through you that I will be traveling to Atlanta on Thursday October 24 instead of Friday October 25, 2013. Please confirm.

Thanks,

Steve Gladstone

From: Sarah Wood

Sent: Thu September 26, 2013 7:50 AM

To: Steve Gladstone

Subject: Re: Atlanta travel

Hi, Steve. Your first engagement is 7:00 pm on Friday and you are traveling in the same time zone on a relatively short flight. For this and future reference, do you mind providing detail as to necessity for coming in a day early? Thanks.

Sarah

Sent from my iPhone 

From: Steve Gladstone

Sent: Thu September 26, 2013 5:28 PM

To: Sarah Wood

Subject: RE: Atlanta travel

Sure. When I'm traveling to a new environment, there is a process I go through to orient myself. For example, when a person can't see, finding a shuttle or taxi from an unfamiliar airport to an unfamiliar hotel, takes time. Gotta talk to a lot of strangers, who are always most helpful, even though there is always a fair amount of backtracking to do.

Once at the hotel, I go through the following routine:

1. Find a hotel person who can escort me to my room and show me:

1. How to unlock the door – if The card key goes into the slot vertically or horizontally, the rhythm of how slow or fast to pull it out of that slot... then I have to mark the bottom left corner of the card with a piece of tape so I know where the top is so I can position it correctly. Gotta practice this a few times.
2. Tour the bathroom to find the soap and distinguish between the little bottles (once I washed my hair with body lotion), learn how the shower works, where to find the toilet, the toilet paper, the sink, the towels and the trash cans, then onto the bed, the drawers, the closet and the do not disturb sign.
3. Where the thermostat is and how to work it. Some of them can be very tricky as they might move in 1/2 degree steps (I think that was Detroit), some are digital, some have knobs, some have all the controls inside a panel, etc.
4. Next is the desk, how to operate the hotel phone, where outlets are so I can plug in my devices, how to work the TV remote control (that alone takes a good 10 minutes and I don't even watch much TV but I use it to fall asleep at night and that sleep mode is tricky to operate).

2. Once I have memorized all the above, I then ask my hotel employee helper to show me the way from my room door to the elevator so I can count the number of steps it is from those 2 points. Unfortunately I must do this a few times with my helper to set it in my guide dog’s mind. What is cool though is that my dog Billy, once he learns this route, gets me from my room to the elevator fairly quickly on subsequent trips. He’s pretty impressive!

3. Now I must learn the elevator. Oops, I forgot, I first have to learn where to find the up and down elevator buttons. If there is a plant or framed picture near the buttons, that helps. Invariably they are on a wall and may be between the first and second or the second and third elevator, and when there are 2 banks of 3 elevators facing each other, it gets real tricky. I need to mark whether or not I turn left or right depending on which elevator I exit to get back to my room. (I think it was also Detroit where the elevator buttons weren’t even on the wall but on a pillar in the middle of the room in front of a bank of elevators. I'm certain the person who designed this lobby didn't have any blind relatives or friends, though maybe possessed an abnormal sense of humor.)

Now to the elevators. When there are 6 elevators operating, you gotta listen real closely to catch the one that is opening. Some of them are pretty quiet. Billy does a good job getting me inside once I give him the command to “find the door.” Each panel in each elevator in each different hotel takes time to learn. It sometimes annoys folks because I ask the hotel employee helper to push the "hold door" button while I learn the panel. But I do learn it fairly quickly. BTW, some panels have Braille on them but the panels tend to be waist high and I’m a tall guy so I prefer not dropping to a knee to read the Braille and I just count buttons. It’s a little quicker that way.

4. Once I'm on the ground floor…  Oops, I forgot to mention that the last hotel in New York where I had to take 2 elevators to get to the ground floor took extra time... we count steps again to get outside and now we have to find an area where I can relieve my dog. In Chicago it was very tricky as there was no grass anywhere. We had to use an alleyway. Again we have to walk this route several times so my dog and I could do it alone. Of course, we need to identify a strategic trash-can along the way for Billy’s scooper bags.

5. The rest of the orientation like finding the hotel restaurant, snack store, etc. requires the step counting thing. You might be saying, “Wow! There are several routes that all have different step configurations to memorize,” and while this is true, after walking them all a few times it gets easier. It's the initial patterning and learning that take the time up front and that is why I appreciate coming in a day early. Oh yeah, when I get back to my room, it takes a little time to plug my stuff into the electrical outlets. I have to use my fingers to find the slots where the prongs go and... well, this is a very slow process as you can imagine.

Could I do this all on same day to attend an evening meeting? Sure. It is taxing to do it same day and I appreciate the low stress option of coming in a day early to orient myself.

No one has ever questioned the necessity for me to come in the day before. They always just said o-k when I requested it. Thanks for taking the interest. And if you need any further clarification, don't hesitate to ask me.

Steve

 From: Sarah Wood

Sent: Fri September 27, 2013 6:12 PM

To: Steve Gladstone

Subject: RE: Atlanta travel 

I hope I didn’t offend you with the question and really I was not looking for such a thorough explanation, just something to put in a file so that next year we remember to budget for this since it’s the first time I’ve learned of the extra night request for you.  Now that I have the information and it will be in the file, my hope is to not pester you with further questions about it.

 And yes, the buttons in Detroit were quite frustrating, even for one with decent eyesight – I turned circles before I figured out those darn pedestals had the up and down buttons on them.   

Have a good weekend.

Sarah

Sent from my iPhone

When “The Best, Nothing Less” Ain’t the Best

ice cream

Photo by George Schiavone

Blind folks run a little bit late just like sighted folks.

Yesterday I received an important call at 10:45 a.m. for which I had been waiting for 3 days. It was a productive call. It was 11:15 a.m. when I hung up.

My county transportation was scheduled to pick me up between 11:28 and 11:58 for my dentist appointment so I hopped like a bunny into the shower, hopped out with bunny-like intensity, and started dressing at an impressive clip. The doorbell rang and still in bunny mode, I opened the door and there was my driver announcing that he was here to pick me up. I told him I needed 5 minutes; he growled but said, “Ok.” I asked him what time he had and he replied, “11:31.” Stay with me on this one. I finished up, grabbed my dog and my backpack, and on my way out the door I punched the button on my talking watch and the voice announced, “It’s 11:36.” Yep, you’re one step ahead of me – he was gone.

The Rules

When you rely on public transportation, you gotta make your reservation by 5 p.m. the day before you ride. No same day reservations. This does help you get organized but kills spontaneity. Like, you get a headache tonight and have no aspirin. You’re pooched for a day and a half before you can get to the aspirin store.

When you do make your reservation for the next day, Central Office Command gives you a half hour pickup window. This means that in a perfect world the driver will pick you up anytime within that window and deliver you to your destination on time. The driver is required to wait for you for 5 minutes from the time he arrives before he can leave without you.

The Facts Your Honor

My pickup window today was 11:28 to 11:58. The driver arrived at 11:28, rings my doorbell at 11:31. I say I’ll be out in 5 minutes. He says ok. I’m out at 11:36 and he’s gone.

The Verdict

The driver didn’t break any rule. He was allowed to leave at 11:33.

I called the county transportation company to have a meaningful conversation about the real world, The Golden Rule, and reasonable flexibility, which are generally meaningless except when you are adversely affected. I reached 3 different message machines of various official company people, all of whom say in their voice message that “we are committed to providing our best, nothing less.”

When a county rep called me back, I suggested that the company’s “best” needed some rehab and introduced the concept that “I’m not a PIN, I’m a person.” He appeared to listen, mentioned processes in the works to avoid problems like mine in the future, and wanted me to have a nice day. The last part was hard to do with a throbbing tooth.

Summation

There was actually one rule (besides The Golden One) that the driver did break. It was the rule that states: Be a standup guy and when you know a client is inside their house and is definitely coming out very very soon, don’t leave without them you big serious major-league a**hole.

Conclusion

When sighted folks run late, they hop into their car and take off. When blind folks run late, they go nowhere – stuck, stranded, grounded, trapped, marooned.

In all fairness, many drivers go that extra mile and bend the rules where they can be bent. But it always seems for that one real important appointment, you get that driver with GRIS (Golden Rule Impairment Syndrome).

When a company adopts a motto, they ought to take great care to see if it can be followed in the real world. Otherwise they start to look silly to their customers. This public transportation company is more accurately committed to: “The Best Most of the Time, Nothing Less We Hope.”

Getting around town without a car can be a bit inconvenient – hells bells, actually a lot inconvenient. Say you want to pick up some fish to cook for dinner tonight. Without a pal to schlep you to the nearby super market you're pooched.

Speaking of pooches, after 7 years living across a very busy street from Publix, I’m now attempting to cross it with Billy the Dog. He’s reliable. I’ve learned not to buy ice-cream when I take public transportation because they are too often late picking me up. But they’re allowed to be. Where’s the justice!