Chris is the recruitment manager of a company who constantly looks to hire the best talent, especially in marketing and software development. He’s thrilled by anyone who can slice and dice data to discern patterns, consumer habits or return on investment. When Bryon mentioned all of these in his mail with coding as his strong secondary skill, Chris thumped his table in triumph. “We usually don’t see a guy with two skills on hot demand,” Chris beamed sipping his late with his deputy Laura.

But when Bryon enters his chamber on a wheelchair, Chris grows awkward. The top skills from Bryon’s CV instantly disappears from his head as he observes the youngster with a rather slender frame.

“You didn’t tell me you’ve a disability,” Chris says, avoiding eye contacts with Bryon.

Bryon, a hard working youngster just out of college who believes that the corporate world cares more about his skills than his disability, is equally shocked at Chris’ response. “Oh well, I didn’t think it was important,” he said, watching Chris for clues on decision about his job.

“I’m sorry Bryon, we don’t have facilities to hire you,” Chris said, with wrinkles gradually disappearing from his face. Bryon can see that the recruitment manager is feeling relieved about rejecting his job application.

“Anything’s wrong with my skills?” Bryon asks, unable to hold back the disappointment in his voice.

“No, Bryon, I told you that we don’t have facilities to support you here. We’re a small firm with a limited budget.”

“I’m sure your budget is sufficient to pay a salary for someone who you recruit,” Bryon says, his disappointment gradually turning into frustration. “You can’t assume I’ll ask for more money or facilities. All I need is wider toilet entrance and a few iron handles inside that’d allow me to use the commode and get back on my chair.”

Chris sighs in frustration. “That’s not the point Bryon. We, can’t, hire, you.” Chris says the last four words slowly, syllable by syllable, as if Bryon has problems understanding him.

Bryon stares at Chris with hurt, helplessness and fury. He reverses his wheelchair and leaves the room without a word.

*** *** ***

I’ve changed the characters and circumstances, but surely, anyone with disability can relate to that experience. The story’s purpose is to put forth some important points for consideration.

First, Chris’ choice not to recruit Bryon has nothing to do with Bryon’s skills. If Bryon were an able-bodied person, Chris would certainly have recruited him on the spot, even if it means he should enhance the pay packet to make it attractive because Chris liked what Bryon had to offer.

Bryon, on the other hand, can enhance his skill and make it attractive to recruiters like Chris, but can’t do anything about his disability. It’s part of his experience, something he has worked hard both emotionally and psychologically to reconcile with. But when his disability is indicated as an obstacle to gain a toehold in a career/job, gain financial independence and lead a dignified life, Bryon can only feel frustration that could possibly result in depression or negative thoughts. Also, given the competitiveness in his field of work, Bryon must stay ahead of the pack in terms of upskilling, no matter how grim his prospects are in finding attractive positions in tech and consumer service companies.

Can Chris and Bryon return to the discussion table? Are they prepared to understand each other, put behind the awkward encounter and prepare to be colleagues in a growing organization?

If you were to meet Chris or Bryon, what would you tell them to make them work together?

Let’s try inclusion.