The Joy of Getting a Summer Job

The Joy of Getting a Summer Job

Braille Monitor
November 2015

(back) (contents) (next)

The Joy of Getting a Summer Job
by Everett Elam
From the Editor: Everett Elam is a college senior majoring in music. Needing money and some work experience, he applied for a job and was hired by the Arkansas Lighthouse for the Blind. Here is what he has written about the joy of being hired, the challenges in his training, and the benefits of bringing home a paycheck:
It is difficult to describe the elation I felt from seven words: “Are you ready to come to work?” Since these words came to me through the phone, I didn’t have to worry about the lady on the other end seeing my mouth opening and closing like a fish out of water. But there’s another reason I didn’t need to worry about her seeing me: she was the recruiting receptionist at the Arkansas Lighthouse for the Blind and was herself blind.

Founded by a blind Methodist reverend in 1940, the Lighthouse is a nonprofit organization which employs individuals who are blind and visually impaired. The Lighthouse manufactures belts and t-shirts for the military and also mass produces spiral bound notebooks and paper products. During the summer of 2015 I would be a sewing machine operator, sewing the shoulders onto t-shirts for use by the military. I would be making a difference in thousands of lives, just as the Lighthouse was making a difference in my own.

I’d first learned about the Lighthouse at a conference in early April. My roommate and I were asked to speak about the importance of fitness in the blind community. The lady who spoke prior to us gave a brief overview of how she’d come to work at the Lighthouse. It was very inspiring. Both my roommate and I applied and were hired within weeks. According to National Industries for the Blind, seven out of ten working-age individuals who are blind are unemployed. The Lighthouse provides a beacon of hope to those who wish to enjoy the same prospects as their sighted counterparts.

Employees begin working promptly at 6:30 a.m. The workday is a standard eight hours, with three breaks throughout the day for lunch and for workers to stretch their legs. While working, employees are allowed to listen to reading material or music if they wish, and the atmosphere is one of high energy and motivation. A forklift passes by periodically to deliver fresh material and supplies, beeping its horn intermittently to alert those who can’t see it.

My machine was a surger, or over lock machine. At full RPM, the surger was capable of sewing a stunning sixty-five hundred stitches a minute; it was the Gatling gun of sewing. My job was to sew the shoulder seams onto t-shirts. To do this, I had to become familiar with the shape of the t-shirts and the different materials from which they were made. I also had to be extremely precise. If I put the shirt into the machine incorrectly, the shoulders would turn out lopsided, and I’d have to send the poor piece to a fellow worker for a repair. A straight line of raised tape was set as a guide for me to sew against. As long as I kept the two corners of cloth together and against the guide, the seam stayed straight. My trainer also gave me stacks of dummy test shirts which were made of lower quality cloth that I could use to practice.

“Remember, the machine’s going to do what you do,” my trainer Janicesaid, smiling after the umpteenth time I’d mangled a t-shirt beyond repair. “If you pull on the shirt, it’s going to pull back. Talk to it if you need to.” Janice was from a small town and had worked with her aunt in a factory sewing the inseams of blue jeans. Her aunt was visually impaired.

I was pretty slow at first. Janice told me, “I didn’t understand how my aunt could use the machine so well even though she didn’t have sight. I decided to try sewing the way my aunt did, by touch. It was actually easier that way.”

During my training I learned how to sew in a quiet office, isolated from the manufacturing floor. This allowed me to concentrate and move at my own pace. At the end of the day Janice would tell me how many shirts I’d sewn correctly. If I’d made mistakes, she’d show me by touch how I could fix them.

My third week was exciting because I got to leave the training room and work on the floor for the first time. The machine I worked with was much faster than the training machine. I couldn’t get the hang of it, but within hours the operations manager, Curtis, arrived to fix the issue. Curtis had been training blind people in the use of sewing machines for over a decade. Before that he’d served four years in the air force. He’d learned his trade through hard knocks and had never been formally trained. Like Janice, he’d pulled himself through life’s challenges by sheer determination.

”My grandma always told me to keep myself humble, because there is always going to be someone out there who knows a little more than you, and then there may be times where you know more than the next guy. That’s what makes us all unique.” Curtis fixed my machine and gave me tips on how to keep the shirts against the guide, and within a week I’d more than doubled my numbers and was sewing eighty to one hundred shirts a day.

Occasionally schools and perspective clients would take tours of the facility. Blindfolded, Janice would demonstrate how a blind person could use a sewing machine by touch. It was inspiring to know that my trainer could use the machine without sight, and I respected her for putting herself on an equal playing field with me by learning to operate the machine without using vision.

Though I only worked at the Lighthouse for a summer, the experience I gained and the friends I made will remain with me for the rest of my life. I have now entered my final year of college as a music major, and the money I earned from my summer job has allowed me to pay the remaining amountfor my violin.

The Lighthouse is still searching for prospective employees. If you are interested, contact Toni Fraser by email at <[email protected]>, or contact the Lighthouse by phone at (501) 562-2222.

Media Share

// maxLength) {
twtTitle = twtTitle.substr(0, (maxLength - 3)) + '...';
}
var twtLink = 'http://twitter.com/home?status=' + encodeURIComponent(twtTitle + ' ' + twtUrl);
document.write('');
// ]]>

function fbs_click()
{
u=location.href;
t=document.title;
window.open('http://www.facebook.com/sharer.php?url=http%3A%2F%2Fdev.twitter.com%2Fp…;);
return false;
}

(back) (contents) (next)