On-the-Job Training

by Dean Kramer
April, 2004

Three days each week I leave Cripple Creek and travel to my job in a large city. I got the job through a buddy who is also a former employer. These days she is in charge of the art department at a small manufacturing company and she needed an assistant. Last year I lost my financial wherewithal through the death of a close friend and I needed a job. For the past 8 months I have been working as a designer and printer, which is, more or less, what I used to do when I worked for this woman 2 decades ago.

These days the work is all done on computers. That’s terrific because my hands are beginning to lose sensation and strength. I could never hold a pen or pencil to produce the kind of precision drawings I used to do, nor have I the ability or the strength to stand while managing large presses, plate burners, cameras, cutters, and all the old mechanical tools of the design and printing craft. I had some serious catching up to do when it came to learning the software programs used in the field today. In fact I am still catching up, taking tutorials, hitting the books and CD-ROMs, and going to conferences. MS has had some (fortunately, small) effect on my ability to take in and organize new information. It takes longer to get stuff than it used to. My employer is very patient and encouraging, however, and we are both pleased with my progress.

It is my good fortune, then, to have found a sit-down job that requires, for the most part, my brain rather than my brawn. There is still some brawn involved though. I have to walk out into a warehouse to fetch supplies for the printer and to deliver printed jobs to the production staff. The restroom is a fair distance from my office, as is the lunchroom, so there is an amount of walking to be done each day. Enjoying my work and not wanting to give it up, I began noticing that after 3 full days despite being mostly seated I was very tired and uncoordinated. I started to worry that I wouldn’t be able to fulfill my responsibilities. People had offered to help me with some of these things and, while I appreciated the offers, I wanted to do as much as possible on my own without special arrangements. In addition, there are some things no one can do for me. No-one can go to the restroom for me and while someone could go to the lunchroom and eat my lunch for me, I wouldn’t much enjoy that. Then I discovered the wonderful Office of Vocational Rehabilitation run by our state government and the Department of Labor. They help people with disabilities find and keep jobs by offering a variety of programs and material incentives. After an evaluation it was determined that a power wheelchair might make my tasks at work easier.

Several months ago they sent a physical therapist and an occupational therapist to fit me for this type of chair. They decided, with my input, what bells and whistles might be necessary. Last week they delivered the finished product for a final fitting, (minimal) driving instruction, and installation in my office. It is an amazing, glossy black contraption with an elevating seat, elevating leg-rests, a swing away joystick and front wheel drive. It turns in place and fits through the 27” doorways at work. I’m sure it is going to provide me with a less physically taxing workday…eventually.

But, if I thought I was behind on the learning curve before, now I am clinging to the very bottom of the learning curve by my numb fingertips. That’s because now, in addition to all the software that comes with my graphics programs I need to learn the programs on my powerchair. More than learn them, I need to remember them. I need to be able to use them correctly more than once each day.

If you make a spatial error in a graphic design program, say, putting the text in the wrong spot, you can just click it away and start over. But if you put a power wheelchair in the wrong spot people can get hurt. And, even if you haven’t run someone over or destroyed a piece of office furniture, depending on how wrong the spot is, you can spend a lot of time staring at the restroom wall trying work yourself out of it (Hmmm, let’s see, do I push the joystick this way? Crash. Nope. How about that way? Boom. Nope. Hmmm, lets see…)

I spent more time sitting at my desk last week than ever before. Last February I went on a cruise to the Caribbean. The humongous ship on which I’d embarked had a very delicate maneuver to perform in order to leave one particular port. We all held our breath. That is how I felt trying to leave my desk to go to the restroom. I backed slowly and carefully away from the computer without hitting the table behind me. I then turned slowly and carefully so I wouldn’t knock over my boss in her chair. I maneuvered delicately between two more desks, and made the turn into the accountant’s office without prying the molding off the door or destabilizing the shredder. People stopped work and held their breath. People stood and waved. People cheered when I made it into the front office where the restroom is. It’s been a long time since I’ve been applauded for going to the bathroom. Now I know how my dog feels.

At my company, and particularly in my office, we were used to leaving stuff around—boxes of labels, printer supplies, paper stock, boxes of stuff we don’t even know what’s in them after all these months. These boxes along with many piles of discarded and left over pieces from old jobs sit on desks, chairs, and floor in precariously balanced butte-and-mesa-like stacks. The room I work in looks like a drawing from a Dr. Seuss book (“Horton Hears A Lot of Things Falling on the Floor”). And fall they did, from time to time. Last week they began falling a lot more often. In fact, since the powerchair arrived they have fallen so often that by Thursday morning I noticed that many of them had been either thrown in the trash or banished to some deep recess of the warehouse where people hope I will never go. When I do go into the warehouse I get challenged to drag races by forklift operators. For me, this is one of the more exciting aspects of powerchair ownership so far.

I know that once I master the controls on my chair it really will make my workdays less tiring and I am very grateful for the assistance it is intended to provide. Meanwhile, I have a lot to learn. You know, until I master my graphics software, it may take longer to create a design than I’d like, but I seldom have to change my pants as a result. I wonder if the Office of Vocational Rehabilitation provides catheters?