On a recent morning, Connie
Presnell pulled into the parking lot of Habitat International, a carpet,
turf, and contract manufacturing company in Chattanooga. She drove past
towering lawn ornaments (one's a metal giraffe), and then parked near the
building, where she manages the factory floor. As the company's 30
employees punched in, Presnell received word that Habitat had to ship
13,000 boxes to a Tropicana cannery overnight. She assigned a dozen of her
fastest workers to the task and, as the sound system cranked up rock
music, they got down to work. As usual, the order was delivered on time.
What makes this story
remarkable is that Presnell's A-team was made up entirely of people with
cerebral palsy, Down syndrome, schizophrenia, and other disabilities. At
Habitat, in fact, nearly every employee (including some managers) has a
physical or mental disability or both. And yet, Habitat excels by many
measures. Its quality-control statistics are especially enviable. During
peak season, from January to June, the factory turns out up to 15,000 rugs
a day, five or six days a week. Yet the plant's defect rate is less than
one-half of 1%. Only about 10 rugs have been cut incorrectly in the
company's history. "We've never had a back order," boasts David Morris,
Habitat's owner and CEO. "If we fall behind one day, we'll all work hard
to catch up."
Morris credits his workers--who
are paid regionally competitive wages for factory work--with the company's
impressive financial performance. Profits have risen every year for the
past decade, against a steady $14 million in sales. And to think, Morris
says, shaking his head, that at first, giving these workers a chance "had
to be forced down my throat."
More Disabled, But Fewer Are
Employed
It's been 15 years since the
first President Bush signed into law the Americans With Disabilities Act,
which prohibits discrimination against people with disabilities in all
parts of society, including the workplace. Nearly 50 million Americans--a
segment of the population larger than the number of either Hispanics or
African Americans--are covered by the ADA.
But while the ADA improved the
treatment of people with disabilities in many tangible ways--think curb
cuts and wheelchair ramps--its legacy with respect to employment has been
mixed. In fact, since the ADA went into effect, employment among people
with disabilities has declined. Between 1990 and 2004, employment rates
dropped by 30% for people with disabilities, according to research
conducted by Andrew J. Houtenville, a researcher at Cornell University
(see chart). "And this in a time frame when employment rates for other
people increased," notes Pamela Loprest, of the Urban Institute.
Economists and policy experts
argue over why this is so. Some think specific language in the ADA scares
employers, others contend that Social Security's disability insurance
program compels people not to work. Whatever the cause, one thing is
clear: People with disabilities constitute a growing share of the
available work force--their ranks swelling because of medical
advancements, the aging population, and importantly, the war in Iraq. More
than 15,000 troops are likely to be wounded this year, and the rate of
amputation, in part because of the prevalence of roadside bombings, is
twice that of any previous war. Meanwhile, Social Security and Medicaid
are in the midst of reforms aimed at encouraging employment among people
with disabilities, says Houtenville. One proposal would move people into
training programs more quickly following an injury. Another would allow
people to keep federally funded benefits while they get back on the job,
he says. But who will hire these workers?
Managers' Concerns, Real and
Imagined
Managers who employ people with
disabilities often say that many of the perceived concerns are
exaggerated. Hidden costs are rare, for example. Researchers at Rutgers
University found that 73% of companies employing people with disabilities
spent nothing on accommodations, while those that did spent $500 on
average. What's more, federal and state tax credits are available to
defray the costs. Fears that disabled workers are injury-prone also seem
to be overblown.
Still, managing workers with
disabilities does require sensitivity and stamina. At Habitat, workers
have had seizures on the factory floor. Every couple of weeks, an employee
loses bowel or bladder control. To cope, Morris installed showers in the
factory. Employees clock out, clean up, and change into a fresh set of
clothes that they keep on hand. Then there are workers who have chronic
behavioral issues. "I have one employee who has temper tantrums a couple
of times a week," says Presnell. "He hits himself, and jumps up and down
and screams."
The outbursts can happen
without warning, although they are sometimes triggered when Presnell
assigns a new task to the worker, who has autism and doesn't always adapt
well to change. At first, Presnell was frightened by these episodes. Now
she calmly tells the employee to punch out, then sends him to the break
room for 15 minutes. "This is a very bad punishment for him," she says,
"because he knows he's not making money."
Forfeiting a Million-Dollar
Account
Some employers rely on a
middleman--either a sponsoring public agency or a nonprofit group--to take
responsibility for their workers. Though many companies stand by this
model, Habitat's Morris thinks it's bad to have a buffer. Early on, he
worked with a nonprofit whose mission was to offer "clients" as many work
experiences as possible. As a result, the nonprofit rotated workers from
company to company, which meant a good staffer might disappear the day
before a shipment deadline. When Habitat couldn't persuade the agency to
change this policy, Morris ended the relationship.
Today Habitat eschews sponsors
and applies for no government funds because these programs sometimes cap
workers' salaries, which drives Morris crazy. "I hate red tape," he says.
He also hates an inescapable
fact of human nature, which is that some people treat people with
disabilities poorly. Nine years ago, Morris worked with a group of
independent sales representatives to gain distribution to a large West
Coast chain. On a visit to Chattanooga, two of the reps made derogatory
comments about Habitat's workers.
Though none of his employees
heard the comments, Morris was furious. But he couldn't ignore the $1
million the account was worth. The head of the rep firm called to
apologize, and that settled matters, but only for a while. Subsequently,
some of the reps said still more hurtful things, and so Morris dropped the
firm. It took Habitat two years to get revenue back to where it had been
before, but it's a tradeoff he's happy that he made.
Just as some people display
prejudice, he says, others give Habitat their business specifically
because of the company's work force. And while he faces challenges that
other business owners do not, Morris prefers them to the challenges he'd
face if he ran a typical factory. He doesn't have to worry about turnover
or absenteeism. During the winter, his employees often try to sleep at the
plant so they can be sure to get in the next day if it snows. "A lot of
companies have token ADA employees," Morris says; the difference at
Habitat, he explains, is that "we're run by them."
As part of the
continuing Partners in Preparedness campaign, EPI is pleased to
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