At a warehouse tucked into a suburban Bay Area office park, along white folding tables lined up like an assembly line, about 50 people on a March morning snapped together plastic pieces of bicycle safety mirrors or stuffed envelopes with a nonprofit鈥檚 donor letters.
The tasks were simple, but it鈥檚 work.
The laborers are all adults who have intellectual or developmental disabilities, performing jobs under contract for local businesses and nonprofits. , the nonprofit employment services provider that runs the shop, pays them each $3 to $14 an hour, depending on their speed.
The arrangement is legal 鈥� for now.
Thanks to , California will soon ban paying subminimum wages to people with disabilities, a decades-old practice originating from the Great Depression.
By 2025 鈥渟heltered鈥� disability programs like the one at VistAbility 鈥� which together employ about 5,000 Californians statewide 鈥� must begin paying the state鈥檚 $15.50-an-hour minimum wage or shut down.
The transition toward better pay has exposed a bitter debate within the state鈥檚 disability services community: Can everyone with a disability get a job in the broader labor market 鈥� and should that be the goal? And for a group of people largely receiving public assistance, what鈥檚 the role of a job in their lives?
John Bolle, VistAbility鈥檚 executive director, said when his workshop is required to pay minimum wage, some of the faster workers may be able keep working. But he doubts local businesses and nonprofits will pay more expensive contracts to accommodate higher wages, and he predicted those with the most significant disabilities likely will lose their jobs.
鈥淭he state is essentially ignoring those people,鈥� he said.
Better jobs 鈥榳ithin my reach鈥�
At VistAbility some workers said they liked the company of coworkers, the steady tasks and guaranteed weekday hours. They said it would be harder to find an 鈥渙utside job.鈥� John Shillick, 61, said he used to clean motel rooms with the help of a job coach, but he found it difficult to keep pace.
鈥淚 would like to get a better job with a decent salary,鈥� Shillick said. 鈥淚 don鈥檛 know exactly what, but something within my reach.鈥�
Opponents of subminimum wage programs like Vistability鈥檚 say they segregate people who have disabilities, keeping them from obtaining better paying work and greater independence 鈥� which they could achieve with the right services to assist them.
On the other side, program operators and some workers鈥� families defend the current arrangements, saying these workers would not otherwise have job opportunities. of people who have developmental disabilities in California are employed, the state鈥檚 Department of Developmental Services says.
Chris Bowers鈥� 42-year-old son, Cory, was one. He worked for nearly 20 years for less than minimum wage at an Orange County retail store, where an employment services provider placed him. Recently that provider shut down its subminimum wage programs, ending his job.
Now Bowers can鈥檛 imagine his son, who has Down syndrome, finding a job like that one, which provided transportation and a job coach.
鈥淭here鈥檚 no avenue for our kids to go to a job site, other than somebody鈥檚 going to have to pay them $16 an hour,鈥� Bowers said. 鈥淗e can鈥檛 do the job of somebody that鈥檚 earning $16 an hour. It鈥檚 just not going to happen.鈥�
State resources for workers with disabilities
The new law requires that all subminimum wage workshops phase out. Whether their participants end up in better jobs, or with little to occupy their days, in large part depends on how California鈥檚 disability services system responds.
The Department of Developmental Services, which pays for these services, says it is ramping up funding so providers of job placement services can get those currently working for less than minimum wage into 鈥渃ompetitive integrated employment鈥� 鈥� that is, working for at least minimum wage alongside coworkers who don鈥檛 have disabilities.
But if the past is prologue, the Legislative Analyst Office notes such resources are under-utilized.
The office analyzed state-funded competitive integrated employment programs for workers with disabilities 鈥� including paid internships 鈥� and found that service providers used only 60% of the funds allocated in the 2021-2022 fiscal year. And that was the in each of the last five years.
鈥淲e have to set a new direction for our entire system, where employment is the expectation for everyone.鈥�BRIAN WINFIELD, DIRECTOR OF PROGRAMS AT THE CALIFORNIA DEPARTMENT OF DEVELOPMENTAL SERVICES
The developmental services department gave out $10 million in grants from last year鈥檚 budget to boost employment services and is developing another program this year to pay for placing workers with disabilities into competitive employment.
鈥淲e have to set a new direction for our entire system, where employment is the expectation for everyone,鈥� said Brian Winfield, its director of programs.
But many worry that when workshops go away, there won鈥檛 be enough job placement services to go around. The disability services system is underfunded and understaffed, said Barry Jardini, director of the California Disability Services Association.
鈥淎 lot of the challenge is around whether or not we have the policies in place in California today to make it possible on a broad scale to provide the intensive (worker) supports and job discovery, job exploration,鈥� Jardini said. 鈥淩ight now all of this policy change is being overlaid on a very stressed system.鈥�
The first workshops
There also is a lack of data. The state tracks the kinds of employment services these workers get, but not the kinds of jobs, so it鈥檚 unclear where people exiting workshops are landing.
Paying people with disabilities less than the minimum wage is legal because of a New Deal-era section of federal labor law called 鈥�14c,鈥� designed to help wounded World War I veterans get limited access to jobs.
Employers registered with the federal government to hire these workers at a fraction of the pay of other workers. The employers assessed their productivity every six months, comparing them to non-disabled workers making market wages.
Now the vast majority of 14c employers in California are vocational rehabilitation providers 鈥� job training services for people who have intellectual or developmental disabilities, including autism, Down syndrome and cerebral palsy.
Californians with disabilities have a constitutional right to services that allow them to live as independently as possible. If they seek employment help, state regional disabilities centers can refer them to 14c programs or to other employment options.
Employers in 14c programs can pay workers less than not only the California minimum wage, but also the federal $7.25-an-hour minimum wage, in two types of settings: in congregate, factory-like worksites sometimes called 鈥渟heltered workshops,鈥� or in small work groups that are assisted by a job coach. In the groups, three or four workers split a single minimum wage position, typically mopping floors or stocking shelves at a local business.
Subminimum wage positions are most suitable for those with the most significant disabilities, program operators said.
A national shift
As part of the national shift toward integrating people with disabilities into communities, the U.S. Commission on Civil Rights in 2020 , saying the programs trap people in 鈥渆xploitative and discriminatory鈥� situations.
Michael Pugliese, who has autism, worked in a video rental store after high school but lost that job when the industry crashed.
When he was 21, a state regional center referred him to a sheltered workshop in the Sacramento area for employment training. At the workshop Pugliese assembled electronics alongside other workers with disabilities, cordoned off from other workers.
The job paid him about $225 a month, included little useful training for other work and made him feel like 鈥渁 cog in a machine,鈥� said Pugliese, now 37.
鈥淚 didn鈥檛 know at that point in time that was nickels and dimes,鈥� he said of his pay, compared to coworkers鈥�.
A dozen states besides California have passed laws banning below-minimum-wage programs. Also a federal rule in effect this year requires disability services to be more integrated with the community.
These kinds of jobs have already declined in California. In 2009, as many as 16,000 people with disabilities worked in the workshops or the small groups that split a minimum wage. By 2021, employment in those programs had fallen to about 6,000, state officials said.
Now that the phaseout deadline approaches, it鈥檚 up to the state and a network of disability service providers to help transition workshop employees into other jobs, if they want them.
Fitting each worker鈥檚 need
The gold standard, according to the independent State Council on Developmental Disabilities, would be a job placement and coaching service that鈥檚 highly tailored to fit each worker鈥檚 needs and abilities.
Carole Watilo directs the Sacramento-area Progressive Employment Concepts, which provides job coaching and placement.
She said a client who uses a wheelchair and communicates using a tablet device handles code enforcement for a small police department in Sacramento County, including spotting such violations as people parking illegally in disabled spaces. A support worker drives him.
Progressive initially placed him there as a volunteer, she said, then it received grants to cover his work. She hopes to find him ongoing paid employment.
鈥淲hen you start from the premise that there are going to be people that you can鈥檛 find a job for, then that is going to be a self-fulfilling prophecy,鈥� Watilo said.
Pugliese also sought job services at Progressive after leaving the workshop. When he told them of his affinity for pets, a job coach found him a state-funded internship grooming dogs. They tried him at several pet groomers until they found a good fit.
He鈥檚 on a health leave now but normally earns $16 an hour.
鈥淚鈥檝e had more general impact on the actual shop than ever before,鈥� he said. 鈥淢y actual work effort was reflected in the shop鈥檚 progress. I mattered as a person and as an employee.鈥�
What鈥檚 realistic?
Chris Bowers, Cory鈥檚 father, said he doubts his son will work the same jobs as everybody else. That鈥檚 just the reality of the job market, he said.
In high school Cory Bowers went to classes with a group of other students with disabilities. After they graduated, Goodwill of Orange County placed him, with two or three others, at a clothing company鈥檚 warehouse and later at a local retailer. They hung clothes on racks, splitting one minimum-wage job.
Corey took home $2.50 an hour, his father said. He loved his job and came home feeling accomplished and eager to spend his paycheck, taking his parents out to dinner, Chris Bowers said.
Goodwill of Orange County closed its subminimum wage program during the pandemic and never reopened it.
鈥淎s parents, especially in my circle, we sure didn鈥檛 care what our kids made. We just wanted our kids to be out in a job site, learning.鈥�CHRIS BOWERS, WHOSE SON LOST WORK WHEN A DISABILITY JOB PROGRAM SHUT DOWN
Before the pandemic, the nonprofit had placed as many as 700 workers in its stores or in local businesses, paying them less than minimum wage. Rick Adams, its vice president of mission services, said the 鈥渧ast majority鈥� of businesses were not interested in taking the workers back at higher wages.
Now about 100 people with disabilities work for Goodwill stores and 50 have jobs in the community, he said.
Instead of working, Cory now participates in a day services program that drives him and others to visit the library, coffee shops and stores. Chris Bowers described it as 鈥済lorified babysitting鈥� and says his son is 鈥渄ifferent mentally.鈥�
To Chris Bowers it was never about the money; his son lives with him and receives Social Security benefits.
鈥淎s parents, especially in my circle, we sure didn鈥檛 care what our kids made,鈥� he said. 鈥淲e just wanted our kids to be out in a job site, learning.鈥�
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