One spring day in 1983 several women including I volunteered to help set up for a big banquet which was to be held at the main cafeteria located in the center of Boeing premises.  I was assigned to help an employee from that facility to prepare lettuce.  As we worked and talked, Dani praised me for my work and gave me encouragement.  Though many of my co-workers were friendly, I didn’t feel the special connection with them as I did for Dani as we were drawn together.  She seemed very poetic and spiritual.  I began to have a vision of us becoming good friends.

Shortly after the banquet, Dani got transferred to my cafeteria was helpful for developing our friendship.  She worked by the three-compartment sink that was in the middle of the production center and was in charge of washing lettuce and other produce and helping another woman prepare vegetables for the salad bar.  By having contact with Dani regularly, we had a good opportunity of getting to know each other and become close friends.

I was more determined than ever to keep the friendship strong rather than let it peter out as I had in the past.  Part of the reason why Dani felt comfortable with me was probably that she had a challenge herself and her small granddaughter had a disability.  Dani had glaucoma in her one of her eyes that was big and obvious.  A large opaque area covered all of her one lens.  She had also experienced other hardships, such as losing her husband at a young age when their only child a son was only two years old.  She was forty when I met her.

The grandchild, who was a year and a half, was deaf though she was able to hear a tiny bit in one ear.  Her other ear was severely underdeveloped without any function due to cleft pallet.  Her face was so severely disfigured at birth that she had had surgery to improve her looks.  Her facial features still weren’t even, the upper lip higher on one side with scars, and her nose twisted to the side.  Despite all that, she was a beautiful girl.

Dani had a two-bedroom house with a one-car garage all on one level where her mother and dog lived with her.  Martha was very kind and liked me.  She was happy that Dani chose me as a good friend.  She had a small black dog that was very friendly and cute.  I began to come over their place to sleep over and to go to church with them during the summer.  On a Saturday afternoon, I went by bus to south Renton up a hill and walked a few blocks to where they lived.  I often stayed until Monday morning so I could go straight to work from there.  I came over more frequently (several times a month) during the fall and winter.  The first thing I did after saying hello was to go out for a long walk to explore their Cascade Vista neighborhood for several hours and then back by dinner time.

Dani and Martha were devout Christians who were very active in their church that was in north Kent, just south of Renton.  Whenever I visited, I went with them to church plus going to other church activities such as summer picnics and a monthly care group meeting at people’s homes for prayer and fellowship.  I was interested in learning about various religions and denominations to gain a greater perspective of where people were coming from culturally.  Some of the church members were very friendly and gave me gifts and invited me to their houses.  On Sunday afternoons after the morning church service, Dani and Martha had an open house with dinner for the congregation.

I always had some spiritual leanings as far back as I could remember.  I felt on several occasions when I was in troubling or dangerous situations that I sensed divine intervention to protect me and lead me into safety.  Whenever things were going rough, I always felt at least a glimmer of hope that things could improve.  I also sensed that even though people were not treated as equals, that some how we are created as equals.  We each have our own challenges, triumphs, and gifts and need hope, faith, love, and peace.  I was drawn to the spiritual nourishment from church.  I became very interested in growing in my faith and encourage others as they encourage me.

By getting together frequently with Dani and her friends at church, I was provided with good opportunities to sharpen my social skills that helped boost my confidence in mingling with other people.  Besides was feed spiritually by the church with emphasis on love and forgiveness for all including myself.  I became more spontaneous in conversations.  I tended to talk when something had triggered a remembrance, but it wasn’t easy for me on my own to come up with a topic that others might find interesting.  Though I made some gradual improvement, I still had a long way to go to be in the flow and rhythm of conversations.  I was on the road of forming intimate relationships, close friendships and to have boyfriends.

During the spring of 1983 when I worked for several months in food service, I began to think of ideas of careers in some technical fields–computers, electronics, or drafting.  I thought that if I got training in any of these areas at a community college, I might increase my chances of being hired by large company such as Boeing.  I could utilize my skills, creativity, and fine motor control for greater career advancement and to earn more money so I could eventually save enough for a down payment for a house.  Perhaps some day I would be able to transfer to a university for a second degree with even greater opportunities.  I wouldn’t want to be stuck in a dead-end job all my life.  I knew that I could do something that used my mind more.

I looked into programs that were offered at the North Seattle Community College, only three miles from my place.  I had caught the bus up the block from me that went to the school.  I wouldn’t need to quit my job, since I could take an evening class easily with the bus running frequently all through the evening.  I chose electronic drafting because I felt that I would do well in it with my superior drawing ability and that the field had practical applications in big companies that design systems.  Besides it had one of the shortest waiting lists to enroll–a few months compared to as long as two years for electronics engineering technology.

During the school year 1983/84 when I was twenty-six from the fall quarter through spring, I went to introductory electronics drafting class two evenings a week on Tuesdays and Thursdays.  I enjoyed learning all of the procedures of drafting.  As I had during my college days, I wanted to try out different things here and there to explore new areas of interests that might lead to new avocations.  I didn’t think that I would ever make enough to support myself with my major skill and favorite activity, visual art.  So I contemplated and explored other areas that I thought would be practical.

By my third quarter of the first year of drafting, my interest wasn’t high enough to pursue it further.  I didn’t mind the activity, but was not very enthused with it.  Though drafting like drawing a picture involve putting lines and things on paper, it didn’t use my creativity very much and it was much more exacting.  I felt that I was just following directions to produce blueprints according to the exact specifications.  But, overall it was a good learning experience for me.  I didn’t enroll in more classes since I didn’t know what area to get training in.  Besides I was contented to stay in food service.

During the summers while I worked in Renton, following my shift, I went swimming in Lake Washington at the Gene Coulon Park.  It was about a half mile away from my cafeteria so it was an easy walk for me.  Throughout the season there were several lifeguards seated atop the high benches watching the swimmers.  Whenever it was hot and sunny, especially when school was out for the summer, there would be so many people that I barely had enough room in the swimming area by the docks to swim laps.  But, it was a lot of fun watching young ones enjoy playing in the water.  I usually went to the lake several times a week.  I changed into my swimsuit at work before I left to free up the women’s bathroom at the park.  After I swam for over an hour at a time, I walked a little bit and changed back into my clothes before I took a bus back to Seattle.

Other times of the year, I swam in the Olympic-sized pool at the Stroum Jewish Community Center in Mercer Island, a small island in Lake Washington between Seattle and Bellevue.  I had attended several festivals there that were advertised in the newspaper.  When I read about the activities, including classes, after-school programs, and support groups, I went to the Jewish Singles meetings which planned about two get-togethers a month and gave free admission to the community pool on Wednesday evenings with membership.

I joined in the spring of 1983 after the community celebration that centered around the Jewish holiday, Purim, since the annual dues was only five dollars and it seemed like such a good deal considering that many places charged a few dollars for just one swim.  A few evenings a month, if I had enough energy left by the end of the day, I went by bus and got off at an exit of the highway and walked several blocks to the center.

Besides the use of the pool that was my primary reason for joining, I participated in a few gatherings with the singles group, especially when we met at people’s homes, to go to swimming/Jacuzzi parties, and when a hike was planned.  There were other activities where people met at restaurants, theaters, and bowling alleys.  I didn’t care so much to go to these places that were less personal and cost money that I didn’t have much of.  I did go to meet them at a restaurant in Tukwila for a happy hour where complimentary hor d’oerves was served.  I didn’t realize that I was expected to order drinks to more than make up the cost of the food.  But I avoided anything alcoholic and I didn’t see the non-alcoholic options.

After I settled down in Wallingford, I became even more involved with the Mountaineers.  From the winter of 1983 through fall, I went on at least one hike every weekend, including when I was sick with a bad sore throat and cough.  I was determined to explore as much as possible to see as much as there was to see in case I moved out of state.  I had thoughts of moving back to my folks in Maryland a few years later.

When it got warmer, I went on weekend camping trips with hiking both days, car camps and backpacking about five weeks in a row and for the three-day weekend holidays when I could get more hiking.  During the evenings we gathered wood near the campground for a campfire except when prohibited or when we stayed in cabins.  The fire was especially nice when it got too dark to do anything else other than socializing which I was weak in.  Watching the flowing forms of the fire was very meditative.  I enjoyed listening to others talk.

For my brown-bag meals I packed salad vegetables with beans and rice for the first day and crackers and cashews for the subsequent days, both lunch and supper.  For breakfast I brought melons or dried fruit that packed well and didn’t require preparation prior to mealtime.  Unlike most campers, I didn’t want to bother packing and using a camp stove.  I didn’t need anything heated.  It was a lot easier to bring all ready-to-eat foods.

My mind tended to fixate so much on food that during meal times, my eyes focused on the food that other people brought.  Due to autism, I didn’t understand that this was a form of imposing on others.  They very likely thought that I was very hungry and didn’t have enough to eat.  Some of them felt sorry for me and offered me some of their snacks and even part of the main meal including sandwiches or entrees.  It didn’t occur to me why they were so generous other than when they passed something around to everyone.  I just enjoyed the handouts, sampling different foods for my insatiable appetite that was even greater than usual from a great deal of physical exertion of day hikes.

Often following a hike, we stopped in a restaurant near the trailhead on our way home for additional fellowship.  While others had their orders of snacks or desserts, I just had water and sat with them since I didn’t have money for anything on the menu.  Sometimes someone shared side dishes with me.  Once, several mountaineers on an extended weekend trip even treated me to a meal at a fast-food establishment since they probably figured that I was too poor to purchase a meal out.  I didn’t realize that it would have been better if I ordered at least a little bit of something as to avoid becoming a subject of pity.  Though I always allowed money for reimbursing the driver for gas, I should have set some aside for eating out to become better company with others.  When we ate at restaurants for all of the main meals, I brought in my own food and ate it when everyone else had his or her orders.  As part of autism, I didn’t realize that it was considered very rude to bring in food from the outside.

By the middle of the summer, following months of hiking regularly, especially after all that weekend trips, I and others who knew me noticed that I had lost weight, about fifteen to twenty pounds.  It was from burning a greater amount of calories and speeding up my metabolism with a lot of exercise from the frequent hikes which averaged about ten miles with an elevation gain of two-thousand feet a day on the weekends.  Though I had kept up with my physical fitness regimen with jogging and walking for years, it didn’t add up to the energy expanded by the weekly hikes.  When it got wetter and cooler and I signed up for fewer outings to the mountains I gained back all of my weight.

After a few years of not dating anyone, I went on a date in the spring of 1983 with a young man whom I met in the food service at Renton.  Russ (not his real name) helped out doing the dishes with a few other men.  He was about two years younger than I and had some mild autistic characteristics, pedantic speech and less developed communicative and social skills.  He was slim with a moderate build, blond hair and blue eyes.  He participated in the Special Olympics that enable those with disabilities to practice and compete in various athletic events.  He was friendly and invited me to his place for dinner after work.

Russ, like me, didn’t have a car so we went by bus to his house in Renton.  He lived with his parents and younger brothers, two of whom also had disabilities and were in the Special Olympics.  The house was up the hill in the same neighborhood as Dani and Martha.  Russ’ mother didn’t appear to cook as the kitchen was full of junk food and I was served a frozen dinner.  Even though this date wasn’t nearly as romantic as being taken out to a nice fine-dining restaurant where the food would be much better, I enjoyed going to his house to see where he lived, and best of all, to meet his family.  I left early in the evening so I would get home by bus before dark.  On another afternoon, I bumped into Russ and on the spur of the moment he took me out for dinner at Wendy’s in the Renton Center.  I had the salad bar.

Though Russ was a nice man, I felt that we didn’t have enough common interests to sustain our relationship.  We stopped dating after the second date though I enjoyed getting to know him and we remained on friendly terms at work.

Through my mid twenties I began to accept that I wasn’t cut out to eventually marry.  I had such a low image of myself that I felt that the only men that I would ever attract were those who were down and out either due to internal or external circumstances or both.  I lacked confidence in attracting a man of high caliber who succeeded in life or had high potential, like some who went on Mountaineer trips with me.  My deficits in appearance, social skills, and self confidence which were painfully obvious made it challenging for a man I would be interested in to take me as his girl friend.

As a coping mechanism, I rationalized that I was too intelligent and creative to get involved with anyone as I needed more time for my art.  Unfortunately, this is a form of copping out or running a way from the problem rather than facing it head on for a more effective solution.

After I went on several Mountaineer camping trips during the summer of 1983 where I observed how couples relate to one another, I began to develop a longing to find someone who would be right for me.  I had always enjoyed being touched or massaged, and I loved the idea of snuggling with someone close.  I envied the spontaneous effortlessness as the couples talked.  I began to realize how lonely I was at home even with attending activities and visiting friends and family.  My friendship with Dani and spending time at her place, with a greater opportunity to develop social skills, propelled me into believing that perhaps it is possible for me to have a boy friend.

My longing to find a man who was right for me got much stronger when I attended the wedding, in August of 1983, of my friend Laura who I had met at the Washington Protection and Advocacy System.  Laura met her husband at the monthly statewide advocacy meetings.  Mark lived and worked in Port Angeles, on the north coast of the Olympic Peninsula, doing advocacy.  The wedding was held in their house located in the country outside of Port Angeles.  Even though there were a lot of people, there was room for me to sleep over two nights on the floor in my sleeping bag so that I could spend a full day on the wedding day and to make the weekend out of it.  I went by Greyhound Bus on Friday evening and got a ride home on Sunday.  The wedding and barbecue meals were held outdoors in the backyard with beautiful weather.

When I sensed how the newlyweds loved each other and had a lovely contemporary style home with skylights and wood beams, I became envious and wanted the same for myself.  After attending Laura’s wedding, I began to affirm that I should find someone to marry some day.  I realized that I shouldn’t give up hope of attracting a man who would be right for me.

I was hopeful in the autumn of 1983, when my male pen pal with autism drove all the way from the Midwest to Seattle to meet me.  I heard about Dan (not his real name) through my pen pal Jean L. whom I had met at the autism conference at Boston two years earlier.  I was informed that he had a Bachelor of Science degree in mathematics and that he was interested in finding a woman to marry.  We corresponded a few times before he wanted to see me.  I wasn’t too concerned that he was fifteen years older than I.  I felt that it would be more important that there would be a mutual understanding between us with our respective backgrounds with autism.  He found my work number and called me at work one day to hear my voice before he drove west, so that he could get a better impression of me.

Though Dan didn’t have a job then, he was able to afford to stay at a motel north of Seattle and take me out to restaurants for several days.  He lived with his parents who were apparently well to do with the father being a lawyer.  Since our diets were very different–his meat and potatoes and mine vegetarian, the all-you-can-eat buffet places such as the King’s Table worked out the best.

Both Dan and I enjoyed going on drives to see the scenery so he drove us to parks on scenic routes through the farm lands and wooded areas on the way to meetings and friends’ houses.  This gave me opportunities to explore areas that were normally inaccessible without a car.  Due to autism, Dan lacked a sense to wait his turn to speak and often interrupted a group discussion, a similar problem to mine.  In addition, when invited with me to people’s homes for dinner he didn’t touch any food he was unfamiliar with.

As common in autism, Dan had great difficulty in controlling his emotions.  For example, at a Mountaineers party where I spoke to several people including other men, Dan got jealous and felt that I had deserted him.  Apparently this reflected feelings of insecurity and low self-esteem.  As someone alerted me that Dan was very upset and was going to leave without me, I ran over to him to comfort and assure him that I didn’t mean to abandon him and cared for him.  He calmed down enough to take me home.

Though Dan was able to be nice and loving at times, I felt that he wasn’t a right mate for me.  His libido was too strong for me.  As much as every five to ten minutes, he kissed me with tongue touching.  Bob and Jean, who had invited him with me to dinner one evening, agreed with me and were relieved that I broke off with him.  Though I had always enjoyed affection and being touched, I felt that Dan over did it.  I didn’t like that he was also too physical and controlling.  For example, he blocked my access to extra food left on our table in a restaurant whenever we went out, though it probably was better for me to refrain from eating more food than I needed.

I was very nervous about making a decision about continuing or discontinuing our relationship.  On the one hand, if I continued to see him I wouldn’t be as lonely and he would be willing to move near me.  On the other hand, if we broke up I would have greater opportunities to find someone more compatible.  I had so much anxiety as to cause diarrhea.

What hastened my decision to break up with Dan was that he wanted way too much commitment at once.  He wanted to find an apartment for us to live together so we could see each other everyday.  There was no way that I would move in with a man that I just meet, especially without marriage.  Though I had always considered myself to be open minded and liked to try new ideas, I had always had old-fashion views of marriage and sex–no living together or sex before marriage.  I needed the freedom to go out as I pleased and be available to date other men.

Shortly after Dan left he called me to tell me that he was so heartbroken that he got thrown out of his motel from screaming and disturbing the peace.  He was suicidal since he had become very depressed from the break up of our relationship.  He went back to living with his parents in the Midwest and called me a few months later to let me know that he was hanging on in his life.  Even though he wasn’t right for me, I wished him the best.

PLANTING MY FEET ON SOLID GROUND

What Am I Worth?

Am I worth of who my parents are?

Am I worth of where I came from?

Am I worth of what my challenges are?

Am I worth of what my talents are?

Am I worth of how well I interact with others?

Am I worth of what my job title is?

Am I worth of how much money I make?

Am I worth of where I live?

NO!, my worth is not be judged by the things I HAVE.

But, only by what I AM.

It is WHAT I do with what I have,

That gives me WORTH as a human being of what I am.

As I became more settled down with a more permanent place to live and a steady job, I began to focus more on developing intimate relationships with friends and boyfriends.  As I had lived on my own for a few years and had come in contact with others and deal with them I learned lot about people.  I become more interested in them as to develop good friendships.

When I arrived back to the Puget Sound area in January of 1983, Bob and I looked in the newspaper classified ads for rooms for rent that I could move into.  My interest had shifted from cooperative housing to rooming houses where each renter is provided with a room with shared bathroom and kitchen use (shared or private), but without the common living areas that are included in cooperative households.  I figured that it would be easier for me to get into a rooming house or a cheaper studio apartment than it would into places that are more community based where there would be the greater concern of total strangers accepting me and giving me a chance.  By living more on my own, there wouldn’t be any worry of being expected to conform with a group, especially with shared meals where sticking to my diet would be more challenging, and about people who lack understanding of my background and who weren’t always nice about accepting me.

Bob drove me around to several places in the evenings and weekends in Seattle.  We viewed two mother-in-law basement studio apartments.  One was too dark and dismal looking and the other one was very nice with sliding doors to the back yard but too expensive.  We saw one studio in the basement of a regular apartment building in Ballard.  Though the apartment was nice by itself, the view was poor looking out into the parking lot and another building across the way without any vegetation to be seen.  I never demanded spectacular views–water and mountains–and I had always been contented with more commonplace scenery as long as I could see some form of plant life growing.

Finally, the fourth place we saw was in a rooming house that met all of the criteria I was looking for.  The room, that I signed a lease on, had a lot of natural light beaming through, a good view of the residential street with houses and shrubbery and the rent was reasonable with the utilities included.  There were windows facing north and east.  The room was fully furnished so I didn’t need to buy any furniture.  There was a full-size bed and Bob gave me sheets for it.  I used my cheap sleeping bag as a quilt.

Whenever I was home I kept myself busy drawing or reading.  I read as I sat on the old brown vinyl reclining chair that came with the room.  Most of the time I had my stereo on to a soft rock station, which I had placed on my navy blue footlocker by the north window.  My taste in music got more mature and I got away from hard rock, including heavy metal that I had listened to previously.  I didn’t have a television because I wasn’t interested enough to watch anything that would justify the cost of buying one.  Though I had a second thought of getting one just in case there is a special that I wanted to see and looked in the newspaper ads, I decided that I didn’t needed it since there had been plenty of things for me to do without one.  I had Bob and Jean store my drawing table since there wasn’t enough space.  I used the table that was in the kitchenette corner for both drawing and eating.

The kitchenette was equipped with all of the basics–a small refrigerator with a tiny freezer inside the main compartment, a small stove/oven range, a sink, and wood cupboards.  Bob and Jean gave me their old dish rack since I needed one and washed the dishes by hand.  When I visited my folks in Maryland and Pennsylvania, they gave me the kitchen basics that I had somehow managed without: mugs, a pot with lid, knives, and a complete silverware setting.

I shared the bathroom with three other women.  The old-fashioned bathroom, which was large, had a big textured window and an old bathtub with an added on shower hookup.  I was on the second floor that was accessible by stairs from the main hallway of the old charming house.

There were laundry facilities in the basement that was convenient for me rather than hauling my things to the Laundromat.  Although when there was a break down that lasted for a long time, I still avoided the commercial places.  Whenever I went to see Bob and Jean, especially since I went every week anyway, I brought my laundry with me and used their machines.  That saved me the inconvenience of going to the Laundromat and having to spend time there, besides saving money.

I was centrally located in the Wallingford neighborhood in Seattle that is close to the University of Washington and Lake Union and other attractions.  It was too bad that my friend Laura who had lived previously only blocks away had moved away to the Olympic Peninsula.  It would have been nice to stop by to see her on my walks.  I jogged all over the area including the popular parks nearby, such as Gas Works and Green Lake.  Gas Works that is on Lake Union contains remnants from an old gas production company.  Green Lake, which was a mile from me, has trails for bikes and pedestrians that go over three miles all around the manmade lake.

The bus service was very good in my area with a choice of three buses to downtown.  I was also able to go to other places just as easily with a straight shot–to all sorts of community events at the Seattle Center which was the site of the 1962 World’s Fair, and to the shopping malls in the north end.  This added greater flexibility in going places on my own.  This was especially useful whenever I needed to meet my driver early in the morning to be picked up for Mountaineer hikes.

To stretch my food dollar and food stamps I discovered the food bank and went there; while I was house sitting to pick up my monthly allotment of the government commodities and food donations by businesses and individuals. Luckily a woman was able to drive me home since it would have been too much of a load for me to carry on the bus.  Whatever things I didn’t use, such as meats and butter, I passed onto Bob.  Since I liked cheese occasionally and it was good to use for potluck dishes, I kept that even though I wasn’t supposed to have dairy products.  Even though I didn’t care very much for canned goods, they were good additions to my cooking and baking.

When I first moved to Wallingford, instead of going to a church building to pick up things from the food bank, an elderly man volunteered to pick up my allotments and delivered them in his station wagon to me once a week until I got a job.  That saved me from hauling everything on the bus.

Shortly after I arrived back to the Northwest from the east coast in January while I was staying at Bob and Jean’s before I moved into my place, Bob and Jean had a party with several people.  This turned out to be an important gathering I was in.  This was when I made a contact with a man with connections who gave me a job lead.  As I talked to him, I mentioned to him that I had been unemployed and that I was capable of doing many kinds of jobs and that I would be willing to learn new things.  George was the district general manager of ARA (Automated Retail Association) Services, Inc.; Puget Sound district had contracted with businesses to provide food and laundry services.  He was confident that he would be able to get me a job in food service at Boeing that had contracted with ARA Services.

I went to the district administrative offices, located in Tukwila, to fill out the employment application and indicated that I would be flexible as I felt that this would put me at an advantage.  There was an opening for a part-time general cafeteria position at the Boeing Seattle Plant II.  The Targeted Tax Credit Program that was set up to encourage and provide a reduction in taxes for employers to hire individuals with challenges and give them chances of which my employer was eligible upon hiring me.  I was hired and waited for my badge and nametag that was required for entry into Boeing property, to be made in order to start.  On a Friday morning about two weeks later, I was informed that my badge and nametag was done and I was to start my new job the following Monday.

On February 21, 1983, I began my food services job part-time.  I went by bus with a transfer in Downtown Seattle going through the industrial area in south Seattle.  My cafeteria was on the major street.  There was a pedestrian underpass since the arterial was very busy with many pedestrians.  In the mornings five days a week from Monday through Friday I usually arrived early so I would have enough time to have breakfast at the cafeteria before my five-hour shift began at nine.  I had a half-hour lunch break so I was done at two thirty.

Each employee was provided with a polyester smock, plaid with navy blue and orange lines on white, to be worn with navy blue pants and a sturdy pair of shoes with good support.  The supervisors were provided with white smocks to be worn with their navy blue pants.  I thought my smock was ugly with the fabric of manmade material and colors that were too clashed for my taste, though I didn’t mind wearing it during my shift as long as I had my shirt on underneath.

I was placed behind the scenes in the production center that was located in the main cafeteria.  Boeing Plant II had a bunch of food plazas scattered throughout the Seattle facility, in which food was prepared and packaged a day before and shipped from the production center.  Before service hours, the breakfast foods, grilled sandwiches, entrees, and TV dinners were heated and put out on display.  This system provided express service and saved Boeing workers time from having to go to a full service cafeteria and waiting to be served.  This way, people had an option to stay in the building and grab something quick to eat.

I was assigned to basic tasks that were included in my job classification of general cafeteria worker; putting food into containers, wrapping, and placing labels on them.  Each day there was a printout of the number of servings of each item to prepare.  Food was dished up after it had cooled into the containers that were counted out according to the figure on the production sheet.  After I filled each container and wrapped it, I placed it on a rack tray.  When each rack was full, I put it in a tall cart on wheels.  When I was done I wheeled it into a large walk-in cooler that was the size of a huge room.

During my first two weeks while most of the other workers were sent out to various locations to serve the customers directly or do cashiering, I remained on the floor finishing working on production.  My poor posture, crude gait, and my speech impediment apparently made people feel uncomfortable in placing me in direct contact with the patrons.  I didn’t mind since I was content in doing solitary work that allowed me to daydream.

After I was there for a few weeks, I was sent out to the dish room to help two other people when it was busy during lunchtime.  I mostly helped by getting the dishes and trays off the conveyor belt and put them in the commercial dishwasher.  The silverware was placed in special racks for soaking in water.  When the rack was full I placed it into the machine.  I liked the change of pace of working in more than one place during my shift.  After I worked in that section for a month, I was sent back to remain in the production area since they felt that they could manage okay without my assistance in the dish room.  I was a little bit disappointed, but I quickly adjusted to the change back to my original schedule.

For my shift I was entitled to two meals a day–breakfast and lunch, for free, though the taxes for these meals were deducted from my paychecks.  The value of them was considered income to be taxed along with regular income since I would need to purchase less food.  During lunch, especially the first week, I took so much food that I couldn’t finish it during my half-hour break.  With the availability of all that free food, I went crazy and took as much as I could carry on the tray.  I wanted to eat as much as possible so I wouldn’t need to buy as much for supper.  Whatever food was left I brought with me into the dish room or the production area.  When my shift was done I ate whatever I had left, even when I was already full from a huge meal.  We weren’t allowed to take any food out of the cafeteria, even things that would be thrown away.  By the end of my first week I learned to scale back on my meal to take what I could finish during my break.  I had had digestive problems from eating too much.

Generally the people, who worked with me, were very friendly.  They were mostly young women in the twenties like me, though there was a wide range of ages–from the late teens through the seventies.  They respected and accepted me for whom I was.  We talked to each other that were very good for my social development.  Though my supervisor spoke less to me after she knew me more, she was still friendly.  On the first day when she showed me what to do and worked with me, she talked non-stop and so much that I had difficulty in keeping up with what she said.  She probably sensed that I felt uncomfortable listening so much.  I wasn’t as attentive as I should have been due to my sensory overload.  Also my efficiency was reduced whenever I concentrated on listening to others, even though I could do more than one thing at a time, but just not as well in anything.  Though many others had no problems in working and talking simultaneously.

The food service establishment environment, with many different people around, was very good for developing my social skills.  I was provided with many opportunities to interact with others, especially during breaks and when I started and finished my shift.  I was no longer socially isolated as during my days when I was unemployed.  As I worked with a greater exposure to social situations, I became more comfortable interacting with others.  My attention span gradually increased, though I still had long ways to go.  Though some of the improvement could have been attributed to my diet with fewer animal foods and more wholesome vegetarian foods.

The cafeteria was a union shop so I was required to join a labor union within thirty days of employment.  Hotel Employees and Restaurant Employees (HERE), an affiliate of AFL-CIO federal conglomerate of unions, were involved with the three-year-contract negotiations.  Each contract included hourly rates structure, according to job classification and years of service, paid holidays and vacations, and some coverage of insurance in health and dental care with a contract with an insurance provider.  I liked the idea of union representation so that our voice could be heard more for better wages and benefits.

Just before I was hired, I received a letter from public assistance that my request for assistance was denied.  It stated that I wasn’t disabled enough and that I was capable of working.  That was okay since I was about to earn enough money though small to cover my basic expenses.

It helped a lot to keep my expenses very low without having a car or children.  Even with the availability of street parking by me, I didn’t feel a need for a car since I had been managing very well without one and was satisfied.  I was content to be without the worry of the expenses and maintenance of owning and driving a car.  Since out of economic necessity I didn’t have a choice, I was happy with what I did have and not concerned with what I didn’t have or need. 

I kept my food bill very low buying all unprocessed vegetarian foods besides having ten meals a week in my cafeteria.  Having food stamps left to carry me over into a few months of my job helped.  I had been taking advantage of the monthly specials at the Puget Consumers Co-op mostly for the bulk food items (grains and beans) and fresh produce.  I avoided ordering food at restaurants.  I also didn’t spend any money for entertainment, especially since there were a lot of free things to go to in Seattle.  With my thriftiness and despite my low earnings, I managed to save a little bit from each paycheck, even from part-time hours.

During the end of my eighth week at the Boeing Plant II cafeteria in April of 1983, I was informed that I no longer had a position there and a transfer was placed for me to the Boeing Renton Plant effective the following Monday.  While I worked in Seattle, a young female employee was out on maternity leave and came back to work shortly before I left.  I had noticed that when we had more people on the floor there was less work to go around.  It made sense that they couldn’t keep me there anymore.  Just when I was getting to know my coworkers it was time for me to leave.  I was nervous about my transfer with a longer commute or change of hours, though I felt lucky that there was an opening at Renton that made the transfer possible to avoid laying me off.

Actually, the commute to Renton, on the southern tip of Lake Washington about fifteen miles south of Seattle, wasn’t that bad with still two buses each way.  It only took about fifteen minutes longer each way to get there than to Plant II.  In a way I enjoyed the trip to Renton more since I went through more of the residential areas rather than industrial ones.  Though I warmed up to a more scenic commute there were some adjustments that I needed to make.

The main thing that I was disappointed in when I first began at the Renton plant, was that I would make less money due to a reduction in my hours–from five hours a day down to four.  Though my hourly rate was about to be increased after the probation period of sixty days.  Just when I got used to making a certain amount of money, it was a downer to start making less, especially without any advance warning.  Considering my background with autism and without any prior notice of the change, I didn’t do too badly emotionally.

I still was able to manage with less income, mostly by saving less.  I even was able to begin to have a small amount deducted from my paycheck every week for United States Savings Bond when Boeings had an annual spring US Savings Bond drive.  I quickly adjusted and began to enjoy having more free time as money isn’t everything or a guarantee to happiness.

At Renton, as in Plant II, I was placed in the production center in the second largest cafeteria.  It was back from the main road at the north section of the facility.  I did basically the same things as I did at the other place–placing food in containers, wrapping, and labeling.  I was also introduced to other tasks–making labels, using the sealer for sandwiches and desserts, and packing things to be sent out.  While most people were sent out to provide direct service, I remained with my supervisor, who was an older white haired woman in her sixties, in production.  With the challenge of the way I held myself, management, as in the other plant, didn’t feel comfortable in sending me out where I would be in front of customers.

My hours started out to be nine ‘o clock in the morning to one in the afternoon with only a ten minute break for lunch.  During such breaks I had just enough time to grab everything onto a heaping plate and take a few bites of it.  I saved most of my meal for after my shift and put it in the cooler.  I didn’t mind having everything cold.  Most of the other employees who worked four or five hours a day just had something quick to eat that they could finish within ten minutes and get back to work in time.  Most people ate faster than I could.

After a week of the grab-now-and-eat-later regimen, my supervisor who noticed what I had been doing informed me that it would be okay to have a half hour lunch, but I was required to end my shift a half hour later.  Before, I liked the idea of eating later so I would have more time to build up my hunger so I could eat more.  With the revised plan I was able to eat with others rather than alone.  This enabled me to visit with others more that overall was more enjoyable than eating later alone.

Though people were generally nice to me, I felt that I received a rather chilly reception from my supervisor the first week.  This reflected my low self-esteem.  But, Dorothy, after she got to know me more soon began to feel more comfortable with me and opened up and was able to joke with me.  Though she was able to have fun and laugh with people, she had a serious side.  Often with her brusque manner she reminded the workers to hurry up because there was a lot of work to do.  Initially I felt a little taken aback and maybe that I didn’t work very fast.  After a while, I began to realize that she said the same thing to everyone and I did work just as quickly as anyone else.  This was confirmed when my employee evaluation was gone over with me and she had rated me high with performance, cooperation, and attitude.

Generally at my Renton cafeteria, as compared to that in Seattle, the staff tended to be older and put more time into service.  This reflected the demographics of the surrounding areas.  Young adults in their late teens through the twenties tended to be attracted to the big city.   Older people in the thirties and beyond are more inclined to live in outlining areas.  There was still the similar range of ages as in my first facility but with a greater shift towards the more mature.  Many of my co-workers were in the thirties.  This was an interesting observation for me as it taught me that people in different age groups are more likely to prefer different places to live. 

Even though I hardly ever told jokes or only occasionally displayed good humor, I had always appreciated hearing jokes from others.  Though I didn’t laugh very much, humor helped take my mind off my problems and lifted my spirits.  It is very important in this stressful world and living stressful daily lives that we look at the funny side of things as a good coping mechanism.  Several of my co-workers were very humorous and in turn fun to be with. 

One young woman, who was a little bit older than I, was very funny and had a knack for telling one joke after another.  Patty was the cafeteria clown.  Jokingly, she often commanded “hurry up” in a foreign language (Spanish).  She was well liked by others.  It was a very good thing that she was able to have fun and make others laugh since her life wasn’t easy.  She was a single parent raising a five-year-old son in a low-income housing, though she did get married a few years later.

Even since I lived on my own and had worked and came in contact with more people, I had developed ideas of stereotypes.  I never used stereotypes as a base to form prejudices against anyone from any grouping.  Throughout out my growing-up years through my college days whenever I heard my family members have discussions using stereotypes, it didn’t make sense to me.  It was beyond me to understand why people from certain categories (ethnic, occupation, and socioeconomic) are supposed to act in certain ways.  With my relatively sheltered life-style of home and school without joining any activities outside of my classes, I denied myself opportunities to observe and get to know people and learn about the dynamics of society.

After a half a year of volunteering for the Washington Protection and Advocacy System while visiting my family in July of 1981 when I was twenty-four, something clicked and I began to grasp the meaning of stereotypes.  With my contact with various people from the disabled community, I observed that they tended to advocate for greater justice and exhibit more sensitivity towards others.

After working in food service for a while, it became clear that indeed each group contain members that by and large tend to exhibit certain sets of characteristics; food service workers, parents of children with disabilities, religious people, and highly educated people.  I inferred that in both of my cafeterias my co-workers mostly came from a lower socioeconomic class and tended to be highly social and many held views that were more on the conservative side.  I certainly didn’t fit in the mold, but it was a good time for me to be working there and I still got along with them well.

Occasionally, I got surprised when someone did something that I perceived as deviating from the norm among food handlers, such as taking bee pollen, eliminating dairy products, using a water-based vacuum cleaner, and understanding difficult scientific research.  As I got to know each co-worker, I wasn’t so concern with the general group attributes as to cause me to overlook the individuality for each.  The more I knew them the more I realized the commonalties we had–dealing with hardships and emotions and having concern for others.

As the concept of stereotypes is abstract, it is difficult for those with autism, who tend to be much better in concrete concepts, such as animals and computers, to grasp the understanding.  But, it isn’t impossible it just may take longer to learn.  They tend to learn best through book or rote learning rather than drawing inferences of abstract reasoning, such as social cues and attaching certain characteristics to people in different groupings.  It is probably to one’s advantage an inability to see people as stereotypes, as this lack or innocence tend to reduce the chance of one forming prejudices.

There is danger that excessive adherence to viewing individuals as stereotypes could lead to prejudice and discrimination.  They seem to lose their humanness and become like objects that to us could more easily be discarded.  At the most extreme this could cause wars between groups of nations.  It is okay to grasp stereotypes to build comprehension where people come from and what are they more likely to be drawn to.   Only with open mindedness can we see that in any group there are some who don’t fit the mold or share all the characteristics that most of the members have.