It was never tough for me to get a job when I was sighted. Even when I got laid-off from a start-up after the Dot Com bust, I was hired as a bartender, with no experience, at the first club I walked into with my pink slip. As a college student, I worked at a payroll advance company, customer service rep for equestrian products, and even at a pet shop — jobs I had never done before, but somehow managed to convince the decision makers to hire me during a recession. Read More
Nothing arouses my senses quite like a new city. In major metropolitan centers, there are a multitude of things that scream out, “Here! Come here. We’ve got something fascinating in store for you.”
A street full of manic traffic informs me it’s a major thoroughfare and I should use it to navigate this new domain.
The smell of coffee whispers, “We can awaken your brain with a delicious cup of brew.”
The distinct scent of certain chemicals gently reminds me I’m due for my bi-weekly haircut. Read More
As a recruiting manager staffing for clients such as Google and Apple, I was concerned about three things: experience, unemployment gaps, and the probability of the person becoming a long-term employee.
I interviewed few disabled candidates and rarely considered their job prospects. As a recruiter, I rarely debated if and how they would be able to perform the duties of a position. I soon found a new perspective — one that changed the way I viewed both the role of the recruiter and the place of people with disabilities in the job market. Read More
As it has for many, the meaning of the 4th of July has changed tremendously for me from the time I was a nerdy kid in San Jose to a writer in San Francisco. Images of barbecues and city parks have been replaced by feelings of patriotism when I listen for the mechanical bird to sing at an intersection when crossing a major street. Ironically, the biggest change in the definition of Independence Day occurred when I lost my sight. Within days of going blind, I was contacted by social workers and representatives from city programs and non-profits that were eager to help out. As I assimilated into my world of darkness, the Department of Rehabilitation purchased blind technology that otherwise I would have not been able to afford on my own.