LD Resources

© 1983-2004 Dale Susan Brown

My First Job
The first day of my senior year in high school, I eagerly applied for jobs. A drugstore manager hired me as a waitress. I was very excited. Two dollars and sixty five cents an hour, which was the minimum wage at that time, seemed like a fortune to me. And I was thrilled to have my first job. I did not know at that time that I was “learning disabled.”

My first impression was of noise and brightness. Cash registers clattered. Dishes crashed. Silverware clanged. We picked up our large white aprons from a hook next to a steel steaming sink. To one side of a narrow aisle was a shiny counter where the customers ate. On the other side was the grill, the bins of food, the soda machines, and the silverware and dishes.

Pam, a slender, young woman explained the system. “First, you take the order.” She handed me a green pad. “Put it in your pocket. We’re each assigned a section. You can help me with my section today, because it’s a training day. Anyway, my section is here.” She gestured, but I didn’t know where she was pointing. “OK, just watch me.” She approached a customer and said, “May I take your order please?” The customer told her, and she wrote it down. I leaned over her shoulder to watch, but she gently pushed me away. I didn’t see what she did.

“One hamburger,” she shouted to the cook.

“Now we have to make the tuna salad. Here’s the scoop. You put the lettuce on the plate like this, then put the tuna on top. Then you put the tomato here.”

Pam and I had to lean close to the counter to avoid being hit by a man carrying trays and the other passing people. I tried to watch her, as she put the order together, but could barely follow.

“Show me how to do the tuna salad again?” I asked. “I don’t remember how to do it.”

“I can’t until we get another order for it. Now, we clean up the counters by putting the dishes down here. Roy takes them later…”

She spent the day talking to me and telling me detail after detail. I tried to listen to her, but the other conversations, the sizzling of the grill, and the rushing of water distracted me.

“How do you take an order again?” I asked.

It’s easy,” she replied. “All you have to do is to write down what they say and then get the prices.”

The next day, my own section was assigned to me. Fortunately, my shift began at 2 p.m., which was “off hours” and there were only two customers.

A man and a woman were waiting expectantly. The man asked for a hamburger and coke. The woman asked for a tuna salad and root beer.

I wrote down the order, but didn’t know the prices.

“How much is a hamburger?” I asked Pam.

“Eighty-five cents.”

“How about a Coke?”

“Was it large or small?”

“I didn’t ask.”

“Better find out.”

“How much is a tuna salad?”

“Forty-five cents. Look at the menu, next time. It has all of the prices.”

I went to make the tuna salad. I couldn’t find the scoop and had to ask Pam for it. The plates had disappeared. Again, I had to interrupt her. I laid down the lettuce, but it wouldn’t lie flat. Then I couldn’t scoop the tuna. I tugged into it with the rounded scoop, but didn’t know how to press the handle to let the tuna out in a ball. So I ended up spooning it on the lettuce and hoping it was enough. Then, I gave the woman her tuna salad.

I checked my list and brought their drinks, using the first paper cups my hands encountered. I couldn’t easily see the difference between large and small. And by now, I had forgotten Pam’s reminder.

“Where’s my hamburger?” asked the man.

“Oh, I’m sorry. I forgot to tell the cook.” I replied. “One hamburger,” I shouted to him. Fortunately, there was already a hamburger next to him, so I took it and gave it to my customer.

I was feeling quite proud of myself for serving my first order and relaxed for a moment.

“Listen, don’t steal my hamburger again,” said Pam.

“What do you mean?”

“You know what I mean!” The cook made that hamburger for my customer. Your hamburger is just now being made! Don’t do that again!”

I approached two other customers to take their order. They both ordered hotdogs and tea.”

“Where’s our check?” asked the first man I had served.

I gave him the check.

He looked at it thoughtfully. “How much are we supposed to pay?” he asked.

“I don’t know,” I said and took the check back. Panic hit. How much were the cokes? I made up a price of 30 cents, then concentrated on adding them up.

“You owe us $1.90,” I told him, handing him the check back.

“Where are our hotdogs?” asked one of my customers.

“And my order,” said another person.

I ignored them.

“You overcharged us for the cokes,” said the man. “They cost 25 cents.”

“O.K.,” I said.

“We owe you $1.80,” he said.

I approached the huge looking cash-register. I had forgotten how to work it.

“Pam, you need to show me how to work the cash register.”

“I showed you that yesterday.”

“Sorry, you need to show me again.”

She rang up my order, without telling me what she was doing.

When the numbers $1.90 came up, I said, “I’m sorry. I made a mistake. I overcharged them for the Cokes. They’re 25 cents, but I didn’t change it on my order form.

She glared at me. “Now, we have to make a void slip.” She turned on a small microphone. “Mr. Connors, please come to the counter. Mr. Connors, to the counter.”

I waited. “Dale, don’t you have any other orders to take?” she asked.

I nodded. I had lost the order slip. I checked my pad, my pockets, the floor around me. I would have to ask them again. But who were they? I couldn’t remember their faces!”

“Dale, come here,” said Pam. Mr. Connors was working at the cash register.

He looked at me sympathetically. “You’ll catch on soon,” he said. “It’s only your second day.” He showed me now to use the cash register and said, “Try not to make too many voids.”

I reached into my pocket and fortunately, the order slip was there.

“Dale, your customers are building up. I’m going to take care of those two and you finish your order,” said Pam.

“How did she do it?” I wondered. She moved efficiently and effortlessly, taking orders, preparing food, and ringing things up.

I brought the hotdogs to the next customer.

The first few days were a blur of confusion and errors. Other employees were kind to me at first, but rapidly grew impatient, as I constantly asked questions. I couldn’t memorize the prices, despite studying the menu during breaks and even, taking one home to work on it. I kept on forgetting where the plates, silverware, and tools were located.

“Where’s the scoop?” I asked Pam once.

“Right in front of your nose,” she replied. She pointed to it, and suddenly it appeared. Today, I know that this is a typical symptom of visual figure- ground problems, but then, I didn’t understand why things disappeared and then, suddenly reappeared.

Preparing food was difficult, even after learning how to do it. For example, to fix a coke, one took a paper cup, pushed it against a knob under the nozzle. It required a lot of seltzer water and a small amount of coke syrup. I couldn’t tell the difference between the knob for seltzer water and the knob for coke syrup. The left knob and the right knob seemed the same and so did the two labels. My only choice was to squirt a little bit of liquid into the cup, check and see which it was. Then if it was coke syrup, I had to remember to only put a little bit of it and a lot of seltzer water. Since the coke syrup looked like coke, it was easy to serve a lot of coke with a little bit of seltzer water. The customers would comment on my funny tasting cokes!

I never figured out the sequence of putting an order together. Now, it seems clear that you start with the cooked items and work on your other food while they are cooking. With my inability to conceive of time properly, it was not obvious, and nobody told me. So, I always served my customers their food at different times.

I had trouble walking back and forth in the small space between the counter and food preparation area. I often bumped into other workers or dropped things. Once, I dropped and broke a tray of glasses.

Because of difficulty in seeing and remembering faces clearly, I often confused their orders. I concentrated hard on each face. Sometimes, I would count and write the number of stools from one end. Unfortunately, I often miscounted or skipped one of the stools. Once, I wrote down “blonde hair and blue eyes.” The customer laughed when she saw that.

A few times, I went down the aisle and said, “Who ordered the hamburger and coke?” Someone always took it.

Gradually, I mastered the cash register, although I had a tendency to punch the wrong numbers and end up with $13.80 instead of $1.38. The tax table print was so small, that I sometimes guessed the tax or forgot it all together.

My favorite job was going to the stockroom to get ice. The other waitresses hated it. I loved it and got almost all of the ice. I would walk downstairs holding two buckets, one in each hand. Then, I’d sit on a carton for a few minutes to calm myself. Then I’d fill each bucket with a scoop, enjoying the rhythm of the ice hitting the bucket. When it was full, I took it upstairs and poured it into each ice bin.

I was cheerful and most of my customers were sympathetic. Whenever they pointed out my errors, I apologized and immediately corrected them, before going on to my next orders. I asked them to find prices on the menu. I’d often ask, “Have I forgotten anything? Can I do something else?”

Due to my cheerfulness, reliability about coming in on time, and obvious eagerness to please, the manager liked me. Sometimes, Mr. Conners kidded me about all of my void slips, but he was very patient. My coworkers, on the other hand, had to constantly answer my questions and correct my errors. Even though I took care of some of the unpopular jobs, they found me difficult and were undoubtedly glad when I had to leave, due to a change in bus schedule,

Later, I had many jobs. I was a salesgirl in a department store during Christmas rush. You can imagine the problems! At Pitzer College, I woke up at 6 AM to clean the dormitory kitchens. I loved that job, because I worked alone and at my own pace. After transferring to Antioch College, I became a cafeteria worker and served food, washed dishes, and helped the cooks. I did each job better than my last.

Discovering My Learning Disabilities
As I worked, I often wondered why I had to try so hard. Everyone else could do the work so easily. They picked it up quickly, not needing as much training and attention from the supervisor. If I concentrated hard and did everything correctly, I was accused of being too slow. On the other hand, when I went faster, I made errors. Other people could do the job correctly and at the right speed. No one else had to work during the breaks or worse, punch out then return to complete undone tasks.

The answer to that question came after working at an electronics factory during a work study quarter. There, I realized that I must have some kind of specific problem. My productivity was very low. For example, we had to strip wires, cutting one layer of wires with a razor blade, without cutting into the next layer of plastic. I had trouble using the right amount of pressure. Either, I’d cut into the next layer of wires or not cut through the first layer. Sometimes, the thin copper wires broke as I twisted them. I often cut my fingers.

One day, my supervisor asked me to strip “eighty” wires. I was doing that job, when she said, “Dale, it’s taking you an awfully long time to strip those eight wires.”

“You said 80 wires,” I replied surprised.

“I said eight!”

“I heard eighty,” I replied. What was it? Was it my hearing? It had been tested several times and was considered good. Yet, there was no question about the fact that I often misheard instructions. I knew about my clumsiness and difficulty in seeing correctly. But, I had assumed my hearing was fine.

After leaving that job, I visited a counselor, who told me that my mistakes were similar to those of children with something called learning disabilities. She sent me to the library to read about the topic. At that time, learning disabilities were assumed to be outgrown in early adulthood.

My research was revealing. My handicap had a name! There was a reason for all that extra hard work! Each problem was actually a symptom of a disability. If only someone had recognized all of that extra effort. For a few weeks, I felt sorry for myself and wished for the praise that was deserved, but never received.

Basically, however, information abut my learning disability was very useful. Weaknesses, I realized, could be worked on systematically. For example, many learning disabled people can’t use one side of their body well.

In my case, I dropped things, because the muscles of my right arm would suddenly relax. So I decided to carry items with the weight on my left arm. That solved that problem.

My knowledge of my learning disabilities was particularly essential during my first job after college graduation, working as a court reporter. Obviously, this was not the right job. However, during the recession of 1975, there were very few jobs, and I was lucky to get one, even as a court reporter.

I had been searching for 5 months, when I applied for the job. Helen, who directed the company, showed me a large black box, which came to my hip.

“Can you lift that?” she asked.

I picked it up, keeping a straight face, and hiding my breathlessness.

She nodded. “There will be two of these and you will have to carry them all over the place.” She told me that I would be responsible for taping the trials so that the typist could produce an accurate transcript. That meant correct spelling and good sound quality.

Listening to her, I wondered if I could do the job. Clearly, I’d go right up against my learning disabilities. With inaccurate hearing, vision, and touch, it would be a challenge to do the job correctly. But I needed a job! So I enthusiastically sold myself during the interview. They chose me.

On my first work day, they assigned Paul to show me how to use the equipment. Now that I could realize that it was impossible for me to learn it all the first time, I relaxed and absorbed as much as possible.

He showed me how to thread the tape, set up the microphones, attach them to the mixer box, and attach that to the tape recorder. After his explanation, I asked him how to thread the tape.

“I need to do it and have you watch me and let me know when I do it right,” He agreed.

When I threaded the tape correctly, we went on to the next step.

Knowledge of my learning disabilities kept me calm and matter-of-fact, although I knew my method of learning was unusual and slow. When Paul became impatient, I thanked him and convinced someone else to watch me do the other steps. Then I took the heavy equipment home and practiced using it.

When Paul took me to a trial, where he was recording, I watched carefully and asked questions. At the end of the day, I still did not understand what to do, although the major points were becoming clear.

“I’m sorry, but I still don’t feel ready to work on my own,” I said. “Can I spend tomorrow watching another reporter?” He asked Helen, who let me have several extra training days.

Our training paid off. While it took me longer to record trials, the transcribers told my boss that they liked to receive my work, because it was easy to follow. And, once, a judge requested me.

Meeting Other Learning Disabled People
But my hunt for a more appropriate job continued. Finally, a professional association hired me as an office manager. This job also required overcompensation. My work week was about 60 hours long. The business manager jokingly threatened to charge me rent, because I was there so often.

During this job, I often felt lonely. I had finally found a professional job in which I could succeed and advance. But the price was spending most of my time in the office. Was life only work? I decided to seek people with my disabilities. I hoped these disabilities could be coped with more efficiently.

Since the handicap is invisible, forming a self-help group seemed the only way to meet others. Thus, I started Association of Learning Disabled Adults (ALDA). Meeting other learning disabled people made me realize how severe our handicaps are. Many people in ALDA couldn’t even hold a job. Either they couldn’t find them or they were frequently fired.

We had no access to help from professionals, since we supposedly outgrew out disabilities. Our problems were considered minimal. We were told that we weren’t trying or that we were being careless. The help we could give each other was our only chance. But that should not have been. We deserved the help that people with visible handicaps received.

I decided to look for work in an organization that dealt with disabled people. There, I could learn about the field and tell other people about learning disabilities. Fortunately, my job, which was on a federal contract, was ending.

I read Richard Bolles’ What Color Is Your Parachute?, a well-known book on job-hunting. It suggests that you study the places you want to work, meet the people who can hire you, and interview them for information, rather than as an applicant. So I called on private and government agencies with programs for disabled people and talked about ALDA. The reception by these agencies was warm, welcoming, and interested. Sometimes, I spent so long on the topic of learning disabilities, we forgot about my job hunt!

One group that interested me was the President’s Committee on Employment of the Handicapped. I visited them and read a stack several feet of publications from their stockroom. One was by Bob Ruffner, their Director of Communications. I wrote to him and complimented him on his article. He responded by arranging to meet me and have me interviewed by the Committee’s magazine Disabled USA.

Before visiting him, I did my homework. I researched the agency in the Periodical Guide to Literature in my local library and read everything written about it. I obtained the Committee’s radio public service announcements from a friend at a local radio station. I asked people in other organizations about it.

A job opened up at the Committee. I filled out form after form, and after 5 months of being interviewed, of waiting, of refilling forms, of competing against many other qualified men and women, I got the job!

Today, I am on the Committee staff, promoting opportunities for disabled people through writing, public speaking, and special events. I enjoy the work, doing things that I’m good at. My job can be done in a reasonable amount of time.

It has not been easy for me to find my place in society as an LD adult. It took hard work, self-discipline, and positive thinking. I had to demand the training that was needed in each situation. The article titled “Learning To Work-Ten Employment Tips” describes “coping skills” which most helped me.

On the other hand, I was born with many advantages. My family was warm and supportive. They paid for my college education. It was always clear to me that blue-collar work was temporary.

What happens to people with disabilities who are raised in factory towns? Or those who cannot afford a college degree? Or those who are not intelligent or emotionally stable? What happens if you are not qualified to be a professional, but can’t do entry-level jobs either? These are the people that we must help. I hope this story gives some clues as to how.

Employment Tips
1. Be prepared to spend extra time learning the job, even if you are not paid extra. Bring price lists home to memorize. Practice filling out forms. If you are working at a chain of restaurants, go to a different restaurant within the chain and watch the workers. If you are slower, be willing to take extra time to finish your fair share of work.

2. Ask for help as you need it. Even though the other employees and supervisors may act impatient, it is better than making errors.

3. On the other hand, never ask for help if you don’t need it.

4. In most jobs, accuracy is more important than speed. Take the time to do it correctly, even if people pressure you to go faster.

5. Take full advantage of your first few days on the job. During this “honeymoon period”, you can ask questions. Try to find someone who will watch you do the job correctly. Repeat information. Say “Please listen to me tell you, so I can be sure I understand.” Don’t let them interrupt you to tell you what to do. Be sure they are listening to you. Some people like helping others. Try to find them.

6. Offer to do tasks which you can handle but that others consider unpopular. Then, you can ask others to assist you with jobs that you can’t do.

7. Develop ways of remembering important facts. Everyone has a particular technique. Write things down. Or, say them aloud when you are alone. Or ask your friends or parents to drill you.

8. When you make mistakes, apologize and correct them immediately.

9. Report on time. If you have trouble being on time, try to arrive an hour or two early.

10. Try hard and appear to make an effort. Sometimes, when one makes mistake after mistake, it gets tempting to act indifferent of as if you are doing it on purpose. That isn’t helpful. Make your effort obvious. That means:

• Appear to pay attention. Look everyone in the eye. Nod your head occasionally as they speak. Respond to what they have said.
• Look at your work as you do it. Don’t let your eyes or mind wander when you are on the job. Walk purposefully from place to place.
• Always work, except during lunch or breaks.
• As you improve, tell your supervisors and coworkers. Say “Thank you for your help. As you can see, I did it correctly this time.”

Author’s Note
“Learning to Work: A Story By A Learning Disabled Person” was published in American Rehabilitation in 1981. It was one of the first articles that highlighted a person with a learning disability who faced problems on the job. It was reprinted frequently. As today’s readers can see, the nature of work has changed in many ways, but the problems faced by people with learning disabilities have not. At the time I wrote this story, young people had very few services to help them transition from school to work. Fortunately, things have changed. Many school districts and rehabilitation departments help people obtain and keep employment.