WHATEVER HAPPENED TO THE CNIB SMOKE STANDS?

Decades ago, many public buildings had kiosks (called smoke stands) staffed by blind people who sold various snack foods, cigarettes, and other items. As far as I know, they've all been closed. What happened to cause this employment opportunity for sight-impaired adults to vanish? The answer might surprise you.

I worked for about nineteen months in various smoke stands in Edmonton during the late seventies. During those times, I witnessed sighted people walk in and brazenly steal merchandise. One afternoon at the University Hospital, I actually saw a man walk in, grab a carton of milk from the cooler, and walk out without paying. When I objected, the man who was training me said that I shouldn't make a fuss. "That man always does that," he explained. I felt so stunned that I couldn't speak. People actually had the nerve to rob the blind and feel all right about it.

I also was robbed of some merchandise. Two men wanted to look at the various watches we had for sale at the Corona Hotel smoke stand. I dutifully showed them the ones they were interested in. What i didn't see was that the crooks pocketed some of them. Only after they had left and I put the watches back did I discover the theft.

I did manage to catch one boy in the act of stealing when a chocolate bar fell out of his pocket. I hope he realized how despicable it was to rip off the blind.

On another occasion, a man walked in and took a plaque from a shelf and walked out. Fortunately, a hotel staff member confronted the thief and brought back the plaque.  Again I felt disgusted at the callousness of people.

All these thefts by sighted individuals added up. One by one, the stands were closed down and blind people ended up unemployed. As I wrote in my new book called How I Was Razed: A Journey from Cultism to Christianity, the CNIB laid me off. When I asked for another job somewhere else, my former boss told me that there were none and nobody was willing to quit just so I could have a job. Because of that unhelpful answer and other let-downs, I lost all respect for the CNIB.

I mentioned other incidents of unhelpful advice from people I once trusted in my How I Was Razed memoir. Check it out at Amazon, Barnes & Noble, and Virtual Bookworm Publishers. My previous paperbacks are featured on the left hand side of the left side of this page.

SIGHT IMPAIRMENTS Complicate EVERYTHING.

By high school graduation, almost every student has had some work experience. Unfortunately, nobody taught me how to find employment. As I wrote in How I Was Razed: A Journey from Cultism to Christianity, the Canadian National Institute for the Blind (CNIB) never taught us such important skills.

As a result of this omission, I had no clue about how to look for a job. This excerpt from my newly released memoir demonstrates how helpless I was and how uninformed certain sighted people were about my dilemma.

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"You must get a job, Bruce," Sister Roberta admonished as we ate supper in Sister Eileen's kitchen one Wednesday in January of 1976. "Don't, you know the Bible says if a man will not work, he should not eat? The Bible speaks against sloth you know."

"How can I find a job? CNIB didn't teach me how to do that when I was in Toronto,"

"Oh," she blurted, suddenly realizing her indiscretion.

Sister Roberta's words nagged at me more and more as I wiled away the days in my room. When I called Mom one morning and poured out my conflicted feelings, she asked, "Why should you worry about that? You've got money coming in. People shouldn't expect you to work. After all, you're blind. How can you be expected to find a job?"

Even with her encouragement, I felt guilty as I lounged in my room while others laboured. Since I lacked skills or training, I decided to wait for a CNIB counselor to find me work. I expected this organization would soon place me in a position somewhere.

The phone rang one morning in late January. A CNIB counselor named Bob gave me the good news that I would be employed as a dishwasher in the cafeteria at the Alberta legislature. As I gazed into the bathroom mirror while brushing my teeth, I realized that I needed to tidy up my appearance. That afternoon, I rode the bus downtown. At a barber school, I had my long hair cut and my scrawny beard shaved off.

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I wrote extensively about that house church in my newly-published memoir, How I Was Razed: A Journey from Cultism to Christianity. Please check it out at Amazon, Barnes & Noble, and Virtual Bookworm.

THE WONDERFUL WORLD OF WORK, EH?

The saying, "easier said than done" is true of practically every endeavour. Work is no exception to that aphorism. High school and post-secondary students are frequently presented with rosy images of employment in glamorous careers by recruiters from various industries, all touting their company's virtues.

In December of 1975, a CNIB representative extolled the benefits of Caterplan, an employment scheme designed to place blind individuals in cafeterias and kiosks, to a group of us teenage patrons visiting the headquarters in Toronto. Being in need of a job, I applied to Caterplan for work the next month.

In my How I Was Razed: A Journey from Cultism to Christianity memoir, I described my dismay when the promise of a rewarding career didn't immediately materialize. Here's an excerpt from my manuscript that describes what happened.

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The phone rang one morning in late January. A CNIB counsellor named Bob gave me the good news that I would be employed as a dish washer in the cafeteria at the Alberta Legislature. That afternoon, I had my long hair cut short and beard shaved off.

My joy turned to shock on the morning that I reported for work. Except for two coffee breaks and a short lunch, I continually loaded the large dish washing machine's conveyer belt with dirty dishes and dried them when they tumbled out the other end. Additionally, I scrubbed pots and checked the racks by the kitchen for more dirty dishes. The pressure never let up.

By the end of the day, I called Bob at the CNIB from the nearest pay phone. "I can't do this job. It goes too fast," I complained.

"Don't worry, Bruce, it takes time to get into the swing of things. You'll get better at it as the days pass."

"I hope you're right. I didn't realize dish washing would be this hard."

"Just keep working at it. We don't have any spare stands for you to work at now so you'll have to stay where you are."

I did my best to keep up with the demands of the job. Even so, a constant backlog of dirty dishes and angry co-workers badgered me.

"If you think this is busy, wait until the Legislature is in session," one woman admonished. "This will seem like a picnic."

The manager dismissed me at the end of the month. Though I beamed with pride as I held my first pay cheque, and knew that I had earned every penny of it, I lost much of my starry-eyed optimism for the wonderful world of work.

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How I Was Razed is the testimony of how God revealed his true character to me after charismatic house church elders misled me for more than fifteen years. You're welcome to contact me directly for more information about this upcoming paperback.