Nonprofit provides jobs for people with disabilities

CHESAPEAKE

Justin Staley wants to cancel Saturdays.

That's his day off from work and, frankly, he'd rather be cutting and stripping cable wire than sitting on the couch at home in South Norfolk.

Inserting one end of a coaxial cable wire into a machine and pulling it out, then putting the other end of the same wire into a separate machine is the job Staley, 41, performs every day. It would bore most, but it thrills Staley, who has Down syndrome.

"When he first got here, they'd say, 'See you on Monday.' It was Friday. He wanted to come on Saturday," says Staley's guardian, Jackie Weaver. "He knows we go to church on Sunday, so that occupies that day, but he wanted them to take Saturday away."

Staley is employed by Chesapeake Service Systems, a nonprofit organization that provides vocational services and job opportunities to people with mental and physical disabilities. CSS contracts with businesses in the area to provide workers, among them Dollar Tree, QVC and Cox Communications. The three account for 120 of the 600 CSS employees.

Recently purchased machinery, paid for using a $30,000 grant from three foundations, has allowed CSS to hire an additional 18 employees for a Cox job that was formerly performed in Mexico.

In a typical week, those with disabilities including Down syndrome, autism, spina bifida and cerebral palsy clock in and out of jobs many would consider menial.

That's not the case for these employees, who take pride in their work and in bringing home a paycheck.

Some pick up trash as part of an outdoor work crew. Others fold laundry at a facility in Portsmouth. Many construct boxes, inspect remote controls, package fast-connect kits and of late, strip wire for Cox. The new machines make that job easier and more cost-efficient for Cox, CSS Executive Director Tom Swanston says.

"The best part of it is this is being done by the people with the most severe developmental disabilities in Hampton Roads," Swanston says. "The folks that are working in here - most people thought they couldn't do anything."

People like Justin Staley, who at one point in his life was too scared to step off a curb. He weighed more than 400 pounds and each day was spent consuming a bucket of chicken in front of the television.

Like many of the people who work in the oversized, industrial-looking room on Executive Boulevard, Staley was timid on his first days of the job. One-on-one training with production supervisor Jesse Manning instilled in him enough confidence and know-how that nobody would call Staley timid these days.

"I never quit with them, even if it takes them three weeks or a month to learn the job," Manning says. "Watching them learn is like watching a flower bloom."

Andrew Reveley's aggression prevented other programs from taking a chance on him. But whatever anger there was has been replaced by friendliness and a level of meticulousness about his job that would be the envy of most employers. Swanston refers to him as internal quality control, given Reveley oversees the work of others and is vigilant about pointing out when a task is not completed.

He is equally enthusiastic about giving the proper greeting when the workday ends at 2 p.m.

"See you tomorrow," Reveley tells everyone in his path.

Sky Winnegan is a quieter sort who didn't speak before taking his job making boxes for materials that Cox gives to new customers. "Hello," he says shyly, continuing to work at a rapid pace.

"Sky, you're doing a fabulous job!" Swanston tells him, drawing a smile in return from Winnegan.

The mood is productive at CSS but also festive. On occasion, a turned-up radio is an invitation to dance, particularly if the artist is Michael Jackson. The employees want to shake the hands of those they meet. They are gleeful about their 15-minute breaks - many race for vending machines full of largely healthy fare - but nobody tries to shortchange the employer by going over the allotted break time.

"These folks love to work," says Swanston, watching as John Orr analyzes each remote control with the precision of a surgeon.

"Twenty-six," Orr says, pointing to a box of discarded remotes.

Behind him, Rebecca Vandall exclaims, "Ta-da!" admiring another piece of stripped cable wire.

Swanston says as the self-esteem of the workers grows, so does their developmental progress.

"That is contrary to the thinking that their condition is a constant with no change," he says. "We're finding it's all relative to the level of self-esteem they're getting. The folks who work on the machines are progressing more than folks who don't, and all of them progress more than folks who don't work at all. Those who don't work at all actually regress and become more isolated, ending up out of the work loop, really out of the real world, where they desperately want to be."

Having a job has opened up other worlds for many. Michelle Serrano, who has Down syndrome, taps a newcomer on the shoulder to show off the most recent yoga pose she learned. Staley has ridden a mechanical bull and earned a black belt in karate - unthinkable before his job at CSS, when he would cling to Weaver for support.

There's another bonus, too: money of their own.

Like his co-workers, Staley is overjoyed when he gets a paycheck. It affords him new clothes and his latest splurge: the new Billy Ray Cyrus CD.

"He sees that the check has his name on it, and that means something," Weaver says. "The difference in him is amazing, and it all started with him having a job. You can't put a price on that. This place gave him wings."

Vicki L. Friedman, (757) 222-5218, vicki.friedman@pilotonline.com