The Long Route to Self-Employment
By Marsha Steinweden
This is my personal story. I suppose it could be called a story of what NOT to do if you are a caseworker, human service worker, job coach, job counselor, or job placement worker. People go into the Human Services field to help other people, unfortunately they are not taught HOW to help someone like me.
From Disability to Masters Degree
Twelve years ago I was the yard manager of a post and pole plant, supervising five employees, driving a forklift, running equipment, dealing with customers and loggers. It was a physical job, working outside, twelve months of the year in western Montana. Rain, snow, wind, sun, and fog were all part of the job. On my way to work one morning, the car I was riding in was involved in a head-on crash. Somehow I survived, both drivers were not that fortunate. Instantly my entire life changed. The doctors told me I would likely be using a wheelchair within five years. Twelve years have passed—I use a cane but not a wheelchair. Either they were wrong or I am just stubborn. I do have my bad days with mobility. Some days getting from the bedroom to the bathroom is a real challenge; other days I can get around outside without the cane.
Being a single mother, I knew I had to do something to support myself and my daughter. The doctors told me I would be needing a minimum of ten surgeries spread out over the next five to six years. (I have had twenty-four surgeries in twelve years, and at least three more are planned for the future. Doctors underestimate a lot to keep you from losing hope and giving up.) With all of this in front of me, I went to the local Job Service office and was assigned to a Vocational Rehabilitation (VR) worker. No one told me I could sign up for Social Security Disability Insurance (SSDI) until two years after the car accident. We discussed options; I did all sorts of testing, including driving 120 miles one-way for psychological testing. I wanted to go back to school to learn how to do accounting. It was agreed that I qualified, so I moved my family 130 miles away, and enrolled in a two-year accounting course at a community college.
While I went to school, I would schedule surgeries for the day after my last class for Christmas break, or the day after my last final for summer break. I graduated with an Associate of Arts degree in accounting, but still had more surgeries and healing time ahead of me, so I got permission to transfer to the University. This involved moving 120 miles again. I spent two more years in school and graduated with a Bachelors of Science degrees in both Accounting and Finance. I also had four more surgeries, with a big one the week after graduation, along with an 18-24 month recovery period. I enrolled in Graduate School and finished in 18 months, with a Masters of Accountancy degree.
Help That Didn’t Help
The six years I spent in college were filled with learning how to be a student again, studying, being a mom, and recovering from surgeries. Four of the six years were spent on crutches. Many days were filled with classes, physical therapy sessions, and doctor appointments. I was never without a book of some type to be studying while I waited. My daughter was wonderful through all of this. She did more than her share to help keep the household running. At ten years old she took over the family laundry chores and some of the cooking. What I couldn’t do, she helped out by doing or attempting to do.
I had thought that starting my own bookkeeping business would be a good idea after graduation, but I was told I couldn’t do that. I had to get a “normal, nine to five job” working for someone else. Immediately I knew I was in trouble. Physically I just couldn’t work nine to five—my body wouldn’t allow it. I had no idea what to do, so I started doing what my VR counselor suggested—filling out job applications. In a year I had filled out dozens of applications, and even got a few interviews, but no job offers. It could have been my honesty that kept me from getting a job. I was up-front with employers, telling them that I couldn’t lift and carry things because I needed my cane to walk with, I couldn’t climb stairs, I was having a surgery again in six months and wouldn’t be able to work for at least two months after that, I had physical therapy sessions twice a week and couldn’t miss them, etc. I also couldn’t sit or stand for long periods of time, and talking on the phone all day would cause my jaws to cramp. Prospective employers were nice in their refusals, but they were still refusals. They hired someone with more experience, or someone that fit the company environment better. Most didn’t even bother to let me know I didn’t get the job.
After a year, my VR caseworker sent me to a job coach. The coach helped me write a new resume, since the one I had done in Graduate School wasn’t to her liking. She insisted I get my teeth fixed and buy some “business clothes.” VR helped out with these expenses, but they didn’t help out with the cost of gasoline to go see the job coach weekly or to go to the dentist weekly. I was still filling out job applications, and the job coach taught me a lot about how to fill out the application better. I worked on cover letters to go with the resume. Next were the information interviews—I had to go on two of them, at places that I had no desire to ever work. I thought this was a waste of my time, the business’s time, and my money. When our sessions were over I was turned loose again to start the job application process, going on interviews, and getting the same results.
Next I was sent to a job specialist at the state-run employment service. Again I was helped to write a resume, given tips on how to fill out an application and how to present myself at an interview. I was “encouraged” to apply for various jobs: running a copy machine at an attorney’s office, a file clerk at a construction firm, a typist in a manufacturing firm, and working for an answering service. I had a Masters Degree in accounting and not one of these jobs had anything to do with accounting. When I mentioned this, I was told to take any job offered “to-get-my-foot-in-the-door.” It would be easier to get an accounting job once I was part of the company.
Thankfully, I had yet another surgery so didn’t have to deal with the job-hunt ordeal for a while. I was starting to realize that ANY job would please caseworkers, counselors, or coaches. They could label me a “successful case closed.” They made no effort to hide the fact that I was becoming a problem. My file had been open too long, and it was too thick.
After healing, I attempted the Temp Agencies. Two were interested, and both had me fill out applications. I had to do new resumes, to their formats and styles.
The first agency didn’t like the way I dressed. I will be the first to admit I am not “Corporate America.” I have no desire to work on Wall Street or for one of the big accounting firms, so I do not feel I need to wear a business suit daily. The agency wanted me to change, immediately. I MUST wear business suits, in either navy blue or dark grey, nylons, and one inch heels. WRONG! I would wear the suit, but the nylons are out (they irritate my scars) and I wear either orthopaedic shoes or sports shoes with special inserts. Next I was told to go to a six-week school to become a bank teller. This was to be at my own expense, of course. There is a need for qualified bank tellers in this area. I tried to tell them that I had a degree in accounting for a reason. They told me that to be a bank teller I had to go to the school; an accounting degree wasn’t good enough. When I said I couldn’t be a bank teller because I couldn’t stand all day, and I had NO desire to be a bank teller, they got irritated with me. Finally I was sent on a couple of interviews, but they were not what I was looking for. The last time I was at the agency they told me that I should leave my cane in the car when I went on an interview—it was keeping me from getting a job. They neglected to tell me how to get into the interview without my cane though. I didn’t go back.
Temp agency number two had me redo my resume twice. They didn’t like my dress—it was not “business attire” enough—back to the shoe issue again. I had to take several tests and was told to work on my typing speed. They told me that having no work experience meant I had no hope of getting any type of job over minimum wage, but they did send me out to a few places. My favorites were delivering car parts to mechanics around town (never did figure out how I was supposed to lift parts to deliver them), emptying change from machines in a casino into five gallon buckets and then counting it for bank deposits, and the most promising of all was being a night auditor in a motel, which would include some snow shoveling in winter and doing three to eight loads of laundry per shift, along with window washing once a month (on a ladder!). When I refused to even fill out an application for any of these jobs, they told me that they couldn’t help me find a job.
Back to another job coach. This one specialized in helping people with brain injuries. I am sure she is very good at that; she wasn’t much help to me. I had to redo my resume, for the sixth or seventh time. I also filled out some job applications and wrote a few cover letters to be graded and to see where I needed work. By this time I felt qualified to teach a college level class in how to write a resume, fill out a job application, and write a cover letter. I was told I should cut my hair, to make me more marketable. I refused. Finally it was time to find “that JOB.” Part-time work would be best, considering my mobility problems. One job that was suggested to me that stands out is moving over 100 miles away to work two hours a day as a receptionist, for six months. The perfect job, not only part-time but also temporary. I would go to our sessions, once a week, and she would read me the want-ads of available jobs from the local paper. After two months of this I had enough. I could read, I just couldn’t afford to buy the paper, mail off applications, go to interviews, or go to the weekly sessions. Thankfully I had shoulder surgery so I didn’t have to go back. The day after my surgery I got a call about a PERFECT job that she had found for me—answering phones in my home and taking messages from Friday night at 5:00 pm until Monday morning at 8:00 am. The best part was I would be paid $1.65 an hour! I wouldn’t be allowed to leave my house, in case there was a call, and I had to drive to pick up the paper work on Fridays and deliver it back by Monday morning. Isn’t the federal minimum wage MUCH higher than $1.65 an hour?
Caseworkers, job coaches, and counselors sometimes do not understand the financial burden hunting for a job places on a client. Ten stamps cost $3.70; that means I don’t do laundry this week. Purchasing a newspaper three times a week means that the family goes without that gallon of milk. You are forced to make choices: do you go to every meeting and job interview or do you buy toilet paper for the month? This is a touchy subject, but it needs to be addressed. Going to meetings once a week puts an extra strain on an already over-tight budget. The cost of “help” is not always worth it. No results are a waste of time and money. I often felt I would be better off if VR just gave me the money they spent on job developers; at least I could afford to buy the newspaper and stamps to mail off jobs application for myself. Most people seeking assistance from VR are receiving Social Security Disability Insurance (SSDI) or Supplemental Security Income (SSI), which has a minimum monthly payment of $552 (in 2003). Once you pay your rent, power, and phone bills, there isn’t any money left over for job hunting or going to meetings. I budgeted myself to one tank of gas per month, and several times that wasn’t enough. By the end of the month I was on foot or else stranded at home.
Another thing that the people assigned to “help” me did not understand is that I am on various programs. Some are minor, but some are vital to me being able to survive. I can do without food stamps or the low income discount on my phone service, but without housing assistance, I would literally be living in my car. Taking a job that will only last a few months is not helping me at all. When the job ends, I would be without housing assistance, and forced to live in my vehicle. There isn’t any central place where the various government programs are coordinated or even explained. Counselors would get upset with me when I explained I could not go to work for minimum wage. As soon as I start a job my housing assistance is either cut back or stopped. I knew I would have another surgery in the near future and would have to quit the job to heal. At that point I would have no wages and no housing assistance. How could I pay my rent?
I was becoming a problem for my VR caseworker; my file folder was getting thicker and I wasn’t getting a job. I refused to apply for jobs I knew I couldn’t do. I refused to apply for jobs that had nothing to do with my career choice. I was not going to relocate for a temporary, part-time, minimum wage job. I refused to conform to the image many wanted me to become. To this day I haven’t cut my hair and don’t wear one inch heels with my business suit.
Self-Employment
During these job hunting years, I had been doing some accounting on my own—mostly taxes for family and friends. If someone had any financial questions, I was the one they came to for advice. I typed up resumes for at least ten people a year, balanced checkbooks, filled out loan applications, explained credit reports, and gave advice on purchasing cars, homes, and appliances on credit. Taxes made me enough extra income to finance the various job hunting expenses during the year. Gas, stamps, paper, and ink are not cheap.
My personal schedule is not the “norm.” I can only sleep for three to four hours at a time before I wake up with pain or cramps. I am usually up and either at my computer or sewing machine for a couple of hours during the middle of the night, then back to bed for another three to four hours of sleep. Not many jobs will hire someone that has a schedule like mine.
I noticed a majority of my job refusals gave “no practical experience” as an excuse. I missed out on that in college—no time with classes, physical therapy, and being a mom. On my own I found a place that would give me some “resume experience.” I worked twice a month doing payroll, quarterlies, and accounts payable for a small logging company. I knew the owners and they agreed to let me get some hands-on experience. I wasn’t paid, but they did buy my gas to drive the 100-plus miles, one way, every two weeks. I didn’t know anyone locally or even how to approach a business about getting work experience.
Back to the application process. After nearly five years of this, I was becoming discouraged and really didn’t care if I found a job anymore. I had adjusted to living in poverty and was surviving. I had budgeted my monthly income. My grocery lists were budgeted to the penny with every sale ad. Car repairs were something that didn’t happen, and if a major appliance broke down, I did without. One friend teased me about living on half an income, and doing better than most people on a full income.
I went to see my Vocational Rehabilitation counselor the day after Christmas in 2001. She had a new employment vendor she wanted me to see. I had six years of education, a Masters Degree, and five years of job searching, with no job to show for it. I had also had 24 surgeries in 12 years, and had gone on over 30 interviews, along with filling out over 200 job applications. I had six resumes all typed out, and samples of at least 12 cover letters.
In early January of 2002 I went to MontanaWorks at the University of Montana’s Rural Institute and met with Colleen Koch. She introduced herself and told me about her organization. I offered her my packet of resumes, cover letters, and sample applications. She was very nice in taking them but didn’t even bother to look at them. I figured she was just going to make me write another resume and the entire process would start again. She shocked me when she said, “Now let’s get to know you.” She wanted to know what a typical day was like for me. She wanted to know if I was a morning or afternoon type personality. Then she asked me: “What do you want to do?”. No one in 12 years had asked me what I wanted to do! I couldn’t believe it. After telling her about my accident, my schooling, my various job seeking endeavors, and what I did at home, she looked at me and wanted to know why I hadn’t started my own business. I told her I couldn’t and she wanted to know why not. I had never thought of that before. Just because years ago some caseworker had told me I couldn’t do something, I believed them.
Colleen was excited and enthusiastic about me going into business for myself. She sent me home to start work on a business plan, while she got permission from VR to work on a self-employment goal. Colleen helped me do some research, but I did the majority of the work on my business plan myself. It seems like I rewrote the thing a dozen times. I made up a price list for the services I would offer, and wrote up engagement letters. After three months I was sick of the entire process and I was ready to give up, when Jennifer Creighton started working at MontanaWorks. She was hired as a business developer, helping with business plans, and helping people achieve self-employment. She jumped right in and polished the business plan, gave suggestions and got my interest going again. Colleen, Jennifer, and I met in April with my former caseworker at VR and my new caseworker (my fifth in eleven years). They approved my business plan and granted me $660 to get started.
I struggle to get clients, but I am not targeting mainstream businesses. I target small, start-up businesses that need qualified help and advice. I am willing to go to the client and willing to work odd hours. I joke and say my clients have dirt under their fingernails, since they are loggers, mechanics, union workers. Most of my clients are too small to be profitable for a large CPA firm to serve. I understand businesses that are being run part-time by people with various disabilities and am able to work around that.
I am not getting rich, but having a little extra every month is a luxury I haven’t had in over twelve years. I no longer panic that a treat at the fast food place is going to mean not enough for a power bill this month. Not having to budget every penny on a grocery list is a great feeling! Being my own boss is wonderful. I can schedule my work load to meet my schedule. If I want to do bookkeeping at 3:00 in the morning I can.
MontanaWorks has
been a tremendous help to me. They recommend me to clients, call
me for accounting advice, and have even asked me to become a member
of their Business Advisory Council. I am grateful to VR for sending
me to MontanaWorks and I am very
grateful to MontanaWorks for listening
to me. They were willing to step out of the normal job search
confines and find something for me that I wanted to do, on my
terms, and in my time frame.