When the corporate crowd descends on the LRT during rush-hour, Michael Salonka knows people are watching him.

Shannon Oatway, Business Edge
A voice synthesizer that reads web pages helps level the field for Salonka.

Being blind, it comes with the territory.

Well turned-out, dressed in a jacket and tie, the 48-year-old carries a briefcase and wears a cellphone and pager.

He looks like anyone else, except for the white cane.

That’s what sets him apart, he says. It’s what labels him in the public eye.

But all too often, the label isn’t flattering: Like the time a woman on the C-Train spoke up, told him how sorry she felt for him, what a poor soul he was.

“I smiled to myself,” says Salonka, completely blind since he was 26.

“I’m thinking she has no idea that I’m a computer programmer, that I work with the best technology in the world.”

He could have told her his story. But he didn’t. He could have told her about his hobbies. What would her face look like if she’d heard that he can tear down the engine of his prized 1968 Mercury Parklane; that he cuts firewood with his chainsaw; or for 30 years has taught leadership sessions through the Presbyterian church where he’s an elder?

Salonka said nothing. It is important to be polite, he notes.

“Your behaviour almost has to be beyond reproach, so no one can point out flaws in your behaviour,” he says. “People are always watching you. It’s like being in the public eye all the time.”

He lost his sight for good in the summer of 1979, the victim of diabetes which struck at age 10.

Soft-spoken and thoughtful, he’s not angry that some people judge him by his disability. He just wishes they could see beyond the disability.

He likes to laugh. He understands that when a blind man walks down the sidewalk and a garbage can lurks ahead, people will watch.

“They’re saying: ‘I wonder if he’ll walk into it,’ ” he says. “That’s human nature.”

But it is upsetting to know that when he walks down a mall, wearing jeans and a comfortable flannel shirt, many people have their minds made up about him. “There are people thinking: ‘That poor guy’s out of work,’ ” he says.

It couldn’t be further from the truth. A systems analyst/architect with DMR Consulting, Salonka has been working on the company’s TransCanada PipeLines account for seven years.

He and his counterparts are responsible for a “mission critical” assignment, ensuring that the e-commerce electronic trade between TCPL and its customers is operating 24 hours a day, 365 days a year.

If the system fails, the company doesn’t do business.

Salonka had begun full-time work in the electronics area in 1975. But then he lost sight completely in 1979.

In 1980-’81 he took a course in computers at the University of Manitoba and has been in business ever since.

Speech synthesizers – computer software that talks to the user – became available in 1981 and put Salonka on a level playing field.

Ellie Shuster, director of communications for the Canadian National Institute for the Blind’s Alberta chapter, calls technology the gateway for employment for the blind and visually impaired.

Technology is the theme of this year’s White Cane Week (Feb. 3-9).

For those people who use technology and Braille, employment rates reflect the national average, she says.

For those who don’t, the unemployment rate hovers at 70 per cent.

“Just the fact that a blind person can take a document, scan it in and have it read back to them is a huge benefit,” she says.

In Alberta, the CNIB serves more than 9,000 clients. Shuster notes that many others struggle with their vision and don’t realize they need help, or are aware it’s available.

As part of this year’s campaign, organizers hope more businesses will understand how today’s technology creates opportunities for the blind and visually impaired.

“What the employer gets out of it is a really motivated employee,” says Shuster. Salonka agrees.

Computers are more powerful and costs continue to drop, he says.

In his job, because information flows electronically, he seldom even uses the Braille printer or scanner that’s in his office.

“We have to educate the public that disabled people can do a variety of jobs if they have the right technology,” he says.

Salonka acknowledges that the issue of diversity is complex.

Employers shouldn’t have to turn their organizations upside down to accommodate people like himself, he believes.

It’s incumbent on the disabled person and the employer to be forthright in their needs. If not, the employer may take expensive and unnecessary steps.

“Don’t give me thousands of dollars worth of equipment that I don’t need,” says Salonka. “I want the office to be as efficient as possible, just like anyone else.”

For example, on the 12th floor of TCPL’s downtown office, the company has discreet Braille signs on the walls to mark the coffee room and the bathroom. Importantly, Braille is also posted next to the elevator door.

“It’s to make sure I get off on the right floor,” smiles Salonka.

His co-workers say he pulls his weight. Most forget he’s blind, which is the ultimate compliment. Both DMR and TCPL allow Salonka to telecommute from home on Tuesdays and Thursdays. Because he is diabetic, the time at home allows him to maintain his health. It is done under the watchful eye of his wife Sally, a professional dietitian whom he married in 1979.

“The thing is, I get up at five in the morning, so on those days when I’m home, I’m logged on (to the office) at 5:30 and working.”

On office days, he catches the bus, transfers to the C-Train and walks the three blocks to the TransCanada tower.

He arrives at 7:15 and if the coffee’s not already brewing, he starts it.

Once settled, he logs on and gets down to work checking the system and helping TCPL customers. His white cane sits in a corner of the office, the only indication he’s blind.

It’s the beginning of a typical day – one he wishes more people could see.

Web Watch:

www.cnib.ca or call 1-800-365-2642.