[stylist] to tell or not to tell

[Applebutter Hill]

Good point, Bridgit, and I'm with snarky Bridgit on this one. There is a
right and wrong way to ask, and it comes down to whether a person is
relating to us as equals or not. If they're too amazed at ordinary things,
they will not accept that we have any marketable skills. I find that kind of
questioning offensive, and I'm likely to say something similar to what you
said, turning it back on them. I've even been known to say, "Don't you
worry, now; you'll be able to do it all by yourself one day too
Donna.

-----Original Message-----
From: stylist [mailto:stylist-bounces at nfbnet.org] On Behalf Of Bridgit
Pollpeter
Sent: Saturday, March 22, 2014 11:13 PM
To: 'Writer's Division Mailing List'
Subject: Re: [stylist] to tell or not to tell

I respond with a particular tone depending on the person and presentation of
the question. There's a correct way in which to ask a question. No such
thing as a stupid question, but a stupid way in which to ask a question.

I also hate the exceptional blind person thing too. Like when I'm affirmed
for walking or dressing myself. I mean, again, it's all about presentation.
If you ask, "I'm curious, how do you know what you're picking out when
dressing?" or, "Do you have a way of knowing what clothes you wear each
day?" But, if you ask, "That's really good you dressed yourself," or, "It's
amazing you can pick your clothes out and dress yourself," you are likely to
meet snarky Bridgit or get a really weird look, or my hubby and mine's
favorite, to respond by saying, "It's amazing you dressed yourself too."

The other day, a person asked Ross how he crosses a street, and Ross
responded by saying, "On my feet," grin. He was answering the question,
smile.

Bridgit

-----Original Message-----
From: stylist [mailto:stylist-bounces at nfbnet.org] On Behalf Of William L
Houts
Sent: Friday, March 21, 2014 4:44 PM
To: stylist at nfbnet.org
Subject: Re: [stylist] to tell or not to tell







HI Bridgit and All,

Your story here reminds me of something I've considered for a long time,

something I've noticed.  And that is that many of us blinks have evolved

a certain kind of crankiness because we're so used to the more ignorant sort
of sighted person treating us like we're blind because we can't think very
well, rather than because our seeing apprati are malfunctional in one way or
another.  It's a weird thing, because this sort of reflexive disregard for
blind folks is often paired with a kind of smarmy hero worship:  Oh you
dear, dear blind sap, you're so brave and so heroic and I could never deal
with the stuff you deal with everyday, yadda yadda yadda.  And all that is
so sticky to get your head

around because they're trying to be nice and they're trying to be hip and
aware and liberal and god knows what else, instead of dealing with human
beings who lack a certain ability but have usually acquired other abilities
and techniques in order to equip themselves for life.  I mean,

sighted dunderheads make me just so wild sometimes that I could just lay

about myself and bonk some sighted heads with my white cane if I only used
one, LOL.


--Bill






On 3/21/2014 2:27 PM, Bridgit Pollpeter wrote:
> Unfortunately, we all seem to have stories like this. People often
> don't believe me, that this kind of attitude doesn't exist, but it
> does.
>
> While at university, I wanted to take a stage make-up class for extra
> credit. The instructor had been my intro to theatre teacher, and I
> wasn't thrilled at the prospect of having her again. As a final
> project for intro to theatre, everyone wrote a skit, then the class
> read all of them and voted on so many that would be performed. We were

> put into groups, each having actors, stage/prop people and a director.

> I was selected to direct the skit I wrote, which was one of the skits
> chosen by the class. Because I'm blind though, the instructor insisted

> I needed an assistant director, and then she proceeded to treat my
> assistant as the director. I had to really fight for this, and the
> girl who was my assistant got it and just let me do my thing, but my
> instructor was such a bitch about it.
>
> So when she learned I had registered for stage make-up, she contacted
> me and wanted to meet. She then proceeded to not ask me questions of
> how I would do things, but point-blank informed me there was no way a
> blind person could take the class.
>
> I told her that I wear make-up on a regular basis, so I already have
> the fundamentals of make-up down. I also had done several performances

> where we had to put on our own make-up, and I hadn't forgot how to do
> that. I also use to be sighted, so I actually have a visual
> understanding of how things should look, how to hold brushes and other

> tools and etc.
>
> She told me I had no point of reference, which I have no idea what she

> meant by that. After I kept insisting, she finally told me that I had
> to take the class as an audit because she would have to fail me
> because she wasn't going to give an unfair advantage to me just
> because I was blind. That I would be graded the same as everyone else.
>
> I told her I wouldn't expect anything less.
>
> She said she would be forced to request I audit the class as opposed
> to formally enroll, to which I asked what would be the point? I
> wouldn't have it show up as an official class on my transcript. To
> which she once again brought up how I would have a failing grade
> showing up on my transcript.
>
> Her point was that a blind person had no way of passing the class. And

> even though I demonstrated some ideas that might be employed to help
> me, she wouldn't budge on her position.
>
> Clearly I had the right to get the DSO involved and take the class,
> but it would have been an extra fine arts credit and not a class I was

> required to take for my major, so I opted for another class. But I
> still regret backing down in this situation. I had no doubts about my
> ability to take and pass the class, and I should have done it anyway
> and told her to suck on that, LOL! I know we have to pick and choose
> our battles, but this probably was a battle I should have marched
> into. I was in my final semester before graduating, and I just needed
> a few FA credits, oddly enough not fullfilled by my previous round at
> university as a vocal and theatre major. Anyway, So I dropped the
> class, but I wish I would have stuck it out.
>
> This has probably been the most blatant display of discrimination I've

> faced since becoming blind. Oh, with the exception of our Gladys
> Kravitz neighbor lady who was worried when we moved into our house
> with two blind people living on their own, and I was pregnant at the
> time, so she was equally worried about two blind people having a
> child. She thought she should call someone. Then when my grandparents
> told her we were college educated, employed, blah, blah, blah, she
> said, and I quote, "Oh, I didn't think you were intelligent enough for

> that." We've since run into her when out and about in the
> neighborhood, and she seems less terrified of our plight, but this is
> something I will equally never forget.
>
> Bridgit
>
> -----Original Message-----
> From: stylist [mailto:stylist-bounces at nfbnet.org] On Behalf Of Chris
> Kuell
> Sent: Friday, March 21, 2014 10:03 AM
> To: Writer's Division Mailing List
> Subject: [stylist] to tell or not to tell
>
>
> a 1700 word story loosely related to the recent discussions on this
> list.
>
>
> Maybe Next Time
>
> Chris Kuell
>
> The pleasant receptionist tapped lightly three times on the office
> door,
>
> opened it a few inches and said, "Excuse me, Mrs. Carlisle. Your nine
> o'clock interview, Robin Simms, is here."
>
> Robin detected no response from within the office, but the
> receptionist told her to go on in.
> "Thank you," Robin replied, and then said in a lower voice, "Forward."
A
> few steps inside the small room, Robin stopped next to a large desk.
> Taking a deep breath, she smiled and said, "Hello, I'm Robin Simms."
>
> No sound indicated the presence of Mrs. Carlisle. Robin subconsciously

> checked the top buttons on her blouse. All OK.  Then she ran her
> fingers
>
> through her hair, which seemed perfectly in place.
> "Hello?" she tried again.
>
> A pensive, two-pack a day voice a few feet in front of her said, "I'm
> Nancy Carlisle."
>
> Robin stepped forward, hitting her thigh lightly on the wooden desk.
> She put out her hand and Nancy Carlisle accepted it weakly, as if
> touching a dead
> fish. An awkward few seconds followed.
>
> Robin said, "Pleasure to meet you." In a lower voice, she said, "Sid,
>   chair."
> Her dog walked her two feet to the left and stopped. Robin's probing
> fingertips encountered the rough cloth of an office chair. She sat
> while
>
> commanding Sid to lay down, and pressed her skirt neatly across her
> lap.
>
> Another painful pause ensued. The tick, tick, tick of a clock was
> clearly audible.
>
> "Are you blind?" asked Mrs. Carlisle. The woman's voice was on the
> verge of incredulity.
>
> "Yes I am," Robin answered matter-of-factly.
>
> "You didn't say in your cover letter or resume that you were blind."
>
> Now the tone was moving towards aggressive. Less than sixty seconds,
> Robin thought, a new world record.
>
> "I didn't mention I was five foot four, or a Methodist either. With
> only one page, I prefer to just list my skills and qualifications."
> The words spilled out before Robin could stop them. She clamped her
> teeth
> shut to extinguish any more sarcastic comments.
>
> "Well, don't you think it would be appropriate?" Mrs. Carlisle spat
> back at her. "Not only have you caught me unprepared, I just, ahh, we,

> ahh, don't
> have any jobs here that would be appropriate for a, ah, visually
> handicapped
> person."
>
> The old human resources training was kicking in, ever careful to be
> politically correct. Robin unclenched her jaw and said, "I'm blind.
> Let's just say it like it is.
> I apologize for catching you off guard, it wasn't my intent to put you
> off
> balance. If you have my resume, you can see that I have a perfect
> background
> for the financial analyst position you advertised in the paper. My
> blindness
> is not an issue; my skills and work ethic are."
> She took a breath, hoping that had come out all right.
>
> "Is that a guide dog?"
>
> Oh boy, here we go with the amazing dog questions. Let's change the
> topic from my skills to the puppy.
>
> "Yes, this is Sid. He helps me get around."
>
> "Where did you get him--one of them guide dog schools?"
>
> At least the woman was curious. Maybe things would lighten up and then

> they could proceed.
>
> "Yes, I got him at a school in New York," Robin replied.
>
> "How much did he cost?"
>
> Well, she scores two points for directness.
>
> "I didn't have to pay for him. The school has endowments and grants to

> pay for the dogs and training. From what I understand, they cost about
> twenty
> thousand dollars."
>
> "Tax payers money?" Mrs. Carlisle snorted, followed by a short
> rumbling cough.
>
> Robin didn't take the bait. She said, "I don't know," and left it at
> that.
>
> Another awkward pause filled the room with tension. Robin felt a
> droplet of perspiration rolling down her back. It was hot in this
> suit. This wasn't
>
> going well, and part of her just wanted to runaway. Yet, she really
> needed this job, hell, any job at this point. This one was perfect
> though. The position was for an assistant financial analyst, for which

> Robin was actually over qualified. She had a bachelors degree in
> business, with a minor in accounting. Their office was only a block
> from the bus line, so at
> least transportation would be manageable. She crossed her fingers,
which
>
> were folded in her lap, and silently prayed the interview would
> improve.
>
> A rustling of papers came from Mrs. Carlisle's desk. More silence,
> tick,
>
> tick, tick.
> "Who did your resume for you?"
>
> Irritation, like tinder as it first begins to ignite, began to burn
> inside Robin.
> "I did it myself."
>
> "How? Shouldn't it be in Braille or something?"
>
> Robin gave a short chuckle, her turn to be amazed.  "I have a computer

> equipped with speech software at home. It allows me to do word
> processing, surf the Internet, use spreadsheet programs--most anything

> a sighted person
> could do."
>
> More shuffling of papers. Sid got up, panting and wagging into Robin's

> leg, indicating that he had to go. Oh, not now, Robin thought. Soft
> but firm she
> commanded, "Sid, down." The obedient lab complied.
>
> "I'm impressed to see that you graduated college Ms. Simms, and I'm
> all in favor of the disadvantaged matriculating into society. I'm sure

> you are an
> intelligent woman. But realistically, this is a small firm, and each
of
> our
> employees is expected to contribute a hundred and ten percent. We
don't
> have
> the time or the manpower to have people helping you to do whatever
> amount of
> work you might be able to accomplish."
>
> With those words, despair settled in on the young blind woman. That
> was it, she had no hope. She was being dismissed, without an ounce of
> consideration.
> This whole trip was going to be a waste of time.
>
> "Listen, Mrs. Carlisle. I graduated from college with a 3.6 GPA. All
> regular classes, I didn't get any breaks. I've interned in the finance
> department at
> Shultz and Sons for six months, and they will give me a glowing
> recommendation. I have great computer skills, I won't need anyone to
> help
> me. If I get this job, I can get adaptive computer software and
training
> in
> where things and how things are done. It won't take much, I can learn
> everything in no time." Robin felt like her voice was a little more
> pleading
> toward the end than she would have wished.
>
> "Who's going to take you to the bathroom?" Mrs. Carlisle asked.
>
> Robin sat, completely dumbfounded. Mrs. Carlisle couldn't have shocked

> her any more if she said she was the love child of Elvis. Was this for

> real? Do
> people like this really exist in the world? Unfortunately, Robin knew
> all
> too well they did.
>
> "I've been going to the bathroom without any help since I was three.
> Who
>
> helps you?" Robin wished she could see the agitation that she could
> sense in Mrs. Carlisle's face.
>
> Mrs. Carlisle, however, was a trained professional and wasn't about to

> let this blind woman get the better of her. She moved on.
>
> "We have our own computers here, with special software. What makes you

> think your computer will work with it?" Her tone was as flat and cold
> as a parking
> lot in winter.
>
> "I would use your computers, equipped with speech software either
> provided by the state, your company or me. The software might have to
> be customized
> to work with your programs, but if you are using either Axapta or
> Navision,
> I already have the scripts and could be working in a few hours." These
> were the programs Robin used at Shultz. Amy Lopez, the woman that
> installed JAWS and updated the appropriate scripts on her computer for
> her
> internship could also do it here.
>
> Without losing a stride, the interviewer came in with her next
> question.
>
> "How you going to read mail and paperwork?"
>
> Robin couldn't tell for sure, but she imagined Mrs. Carlisle was
> sneering. Sid was up again, rubbing against her and wiggling his
> backside. Robin patted him on the head and said, "Sit for a little
> while longer boy, good
> boy." This was not the time for him to "Park". He'd just have to hold
> it.
>
> She focused her attention on the hopeless Mrs. Carlisle. "That
> depends. Of course, e mail is a great medium for a blind person, and
> as an added benefit it saves paper."
>
> A noticeable exhale came from Mrs. Carlisle, but Robin continued.
> "Printed text can usually be scanned, and then I can use the computer
> to
>
> read it. I have a PDA with speech for my personal notes, and I can use

> Braille for a variety of other note taking tasks."
>
> "I suppose that is all well and good," Mrs. Carlisle interrupted, "but

> what about a handwritten memo? What if I write you a note to redo the
> Smith calculations for 1994? How could you read it?"
>
> Now the bitch was just being confrontational. "You wouldn't have to
> leave me a note. You could send me an e mail, or better yet, just
> leave me a phone
> mail. It's not a problem that is insurmountable."
>
> Mrs. Carlisle made some sort of exasperated sound, which was followed
> by
>
> three light knocks on the closed office door. It opened, and a cheery
> voice said, "Mrs. Carlisle, Mr. Pastor needs to see you in the
> managers meeting.
> He said it was important."
>
> Without excusing herself, or even acknowledging the existence of the
> person in her office, Mrs. Carlisle got up from her desk and scurried
> out the door.
>
> Robin was overcome with a feeling of depression and insignificance.
> This was painful, and there was no point in continuing the charade.
> She got out of
> her chair, and on an impulse reached out and felt the cool, smooth
> surface
> of Nancy Carlisle's desk. She tapped it, a heavy, solid sound. Feeling
> like
> a kid with their hand in the cookie jar, Robin walked around the desk
> and
> sat in the comfy leather high backed chair.  She leaned forward and
ran
> her
> fingertips over the blotter, keyboard, Rolodex and flat screen
monitor.
> How
> could an idiot like Nancy Carlisle ever get such a magnificent desk?
> What
> could she possibly do any better than Robin could do, except see? And
> what
> gave her the right to treat Robin with such disrespect, like a turd on
> the
> sidewalk?
>
> A devious smile crept across Robin's face.
> "Sid, come," she said. "Park."
>
> A minute later, Robin bid the friendly receptionist a good day as she
> left the front of the building. What she had hoped would be her first
> real job
> wasn't going to be happening here. Oh, well, she thought. Maybe next
> time.
>
>
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--
"Let's drink a toast now to who we really are."

           --Jane Siberry


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