Odd Jobs

By Anna Quon

“If you love something and can make a living at it, go for it.”
— Pascale Ribreau

“I’m not ‘lucky’ to have a job... I work to the top of my ability.”
— Jean Hills

“...find your talents, and then do something about it.”
— Heidi Prince

Having a disability “constantly reminds me that I’m doing what I really want to do.”
— Eleanor Stubley

“Believe in yourself and forge ahead!”
— Rachel Kupfer

What do a deaf e-commerce entrepreneur and a chef in a wheelchair have in common? In spite of their disabilities, they’re following their dreams.

Those dreams are not always what you might expect. People with disabilities, like people everywhere, do not fit into neat boxes. Talent and sheer grit, and sometimes the help of technology, have taken people with disabilities to some surprising places. But it’s the passion for their work that seems to be the deciding factor when people with disabilities succeed at careers you might not imagine are possible.

Take Pascale Ribreau, for example. A chef since 1984, he now owns the restaurant Celestin in Toronto. “It’s very retro, very 1920s,” says Ribreau of his high-end eatery, which offers French and international cuisine. It’s also very wheelchair accessible, because Ribreau is himself a wheelchair user.

Ribreau became paraplegic in an accident three years ago. At first he thought his career as a chef was over. He considered going back to school to become a wine master, but then an assistive devices company called Motion Specialties helped him devise a wheelchair that allowed him to stand up. He realized he would be able to return to the career he loved. It would have cost too much to modify the restaurant where he worked as executive chef, so instead he built his own restaurant in an old bank building, complete with a walk-in fridge with a sliding door for easy access, a raised table for him to work at (because he’s taller in his special chair), and plenty of space between tables, which even his able-bodied customers appreciate.

The standing wheelchair “has been an absolutely amazing tool for me,” Ribreau says. Nevertheless, he finds his nine-hour work day physically demanding – though he adds, “The pain doesn’t matter when I work.” He works fewer hours than before his disability and delegates more than he used to, but he maintains that the quality of his food speaks for itself. “I don’t get a break from my customers because I’m in a wheelchair,” he says.

Ribreau’s advice to other people with disabilities who want an unusual career? “Stick with what you love... If you love something and can make a living at it, go for it.”

Jean Hills doesn’t expect a break either, but does expect to be treated like a professional. Totally blind from glaucoma since the age of eight, Hills is a physiotherapist with her own thriving practice in Orillia, Ontario.

Hills estimates that there are 30 or 40 blind physiotherapists working in Canada today, and that they’ve been around for a century in other parts of the world. She bristles at the idea that she needs to accommodate her disability to do her job. “My disability does not interfere with my work,” she says.

Hills was separated with two small children when she decided to go back to school. She wanted to become a physiotherapist, not because the hands-on profession suits someone with a visual disability, but because, she says, “That’s all I ever really wanted to do.” She struggled to get funding to attend the only program available to her in 1973 – the School of Physiotherapy in London, England, at the National Institute for the Blind – and completed the training in four years.

According to Hills, there’s a 90 per cent unemployment rate among people in Canada who are blind, but, she says, “I’m not ‘lucky’ to have a job... I work to the top of my ability.” She’s encountered plenty of obstacles along the way, such as the initial reluctance of Ontario’s vocational funding program to help pay for her education, and attitudes of some employers and colleagues.

“The best way to get into a professional program is screaming, scratching and fighting all the way,” she says. “You have to overachieve, you have to cajole and you have to work harder than anybody else.” And it pays off in clientele. “I’m as busy as I’d like to be... I’m only really disabled when filling out my tax form.”

Heidi Prince identifies herself as a person with multiple disabilities – but although they have not been without challenges, her disabilities have also been something of a blessing when it comes to her work as a clown. The bubbly, devout Christian, who has attention deficit/hyperactivity disorder (ADHD), admits that she always wanted to be an actress, but became a mom instead. After a car accident, she developed chronic headaches and fibromyalgia and now also contends with osteoarthritis in both knees.

On a family outing, a clown’s performance inspired Heidi’s sister to say, “Why don’t you do that? You’re good with kids.” Heidi prayed about it, and one night she dreamed she was a clown called the “Sonshine Clown.” She studied balloon art and started hiring herself out for children’s birthday parties, picnics and sing-o-grams, accompanied by her daughter Destiny as “Mini Clown.” Clowning allows Prince to fulfill her desire to act as well as making children and parents happy.

Prince says she’s usually wiped out for three or four days after giving her all at a clown gig, which she does once or twice a month. But she is convinced that her disabilities and difficult life experiences have made her a better clown. She thinks her ADHD is a part of what keeps her bouncy, and even though sleep apnea keeps her awake one week per month, she finds that it’s during those times that she’s most productive creating new songs.

Prince is open to helping other people with disabilities who might want to take up clowning as a career (and she wants any producers who might need a clown in their films to know she’s available!). “I’ve found my niche,” she says. She advises others to “Seek God, find your talents, and then do something about it.”

Eleanor Stubley of Montreal is definitely doing something about it. The acclaimed conductor and professor of music at McGill University has an international reputation and has worked with some of the world’s most renowned conductors, as well as winning awards for her writing about conducting and the philosophy of music. She also happens to be a wheelchair user with multiple sclerosis. “I firmly believe that I can conduct, even if I couldn’t move... [with] my eyes, my nose, my passion.” These days, she says, “I am more functional when I conduct... People say I ‘stand up.’”

She’s had to fight against the opinions of people who have said she couldn’t do what she does. “Fatigue is something I figure out ways to manage... People’s attitudes, I can’t.” Nevertheless, she says, “Most students I win over by what I do in the classroom.”

Her disability may actually have enhanced her abilities as a conductor. “I’ve developed a great capacity to read other people’s bodies,” she says. It has also influenced her writing about conducting. “A lot of what I write starts with the body,” she says, whereas most theory starts with the notes. Regardless, she says, having a disability “constantly reminds me that I’m doing what I really want to do.”

Rachel Kupfer waited 10 years to do what she really wanted to do. She was overseas on her first wedding anniversary when her husband presented her with a beautiful gift – two large bath sheets embroidered with her name. “As I am such an entrepreneur,” Kupfer says, “my first reaction was, that is such a great idea for a business – and come to think of it, no one does it in my home town.”

Kupfer, who has a hearing disability, decided to wait to establish her dream business, because she first wanted to run one where she’d be able to socialize and meet people face to face. To that end she established a retail lingerie business, which is now going into its seventh year.

By the time her children were in school, and her first business established, Kupfer thought it was time to fulfill her dream. Teaming up with a PR graduate, Alan Domb, she built a Toronto-based website called SignatureTowels.com through which she could sell personalized towels, robes, wraps and other products, custom-embroidered to suit each customer. People can choose from 20 different styles of lettering, from wacky to elegant, as well as the product and thread colour.

Because it’s a web-based business, much of the necessary communication can be done by e-mail or fax. Domb takes care of any necessary phone calls. Technology, Kupfer says, has made all the difference.

Kupfer’s advice to people with disabilities entering an unconventional business or career path is to “know the Serenity Prayer and act accordingly... know what your capabilities are, know what your pitfalls are, and deal with them – don’t allow them to be your downfall. Believe in yourself and forge ahead!”

And indeed, besides a passion for their work, all the people described in this article have a belief in themselves and their abilities. For some, like physiotherapist Hills and conductor Stubley, that belief has helped them push past the attitudes of others who said, “You can’t.” It’s helped Prince the clown and Ribreau the chef keep going in physically demanding careers. And it helped Kupfer keep her dream alive for 10 years while she built a life for herself and her family.

Passion plus faith in themselves equals success for people with disabilities in unconventional jobs.

(Anna Quon is a freelance writer living in Dartmouth, Nova Scotia.)