He assembles refrigerators, she works at the cash register. Why was it hard for them to find jobs?

“We don’t have jobs like that.” That’s what Timur’s mother heard when her autistic son tried to get a job at a factory. By that time, the young man had already earned a qualification and successfully completed an internship at the same plant. Today Timur works on a conveyor belt, and his contract has already been renewed twice. Elena, who is almost deaf, has a different story: she dreamed of customs, studied to become a programmer, but found herself at a supermarket cash register. Why do employers still fear people with disabilities, and what happens when they are finally given a chance to work?

“They had nowhere to send them, so they hired Timur.”

We meet with Timur—he has autism—after his shift. He and his mother have a weekly traditional trip to a café, where they enjoy a pastry with coffee. Timur gladly participates in the conversation and takes photos, but he still entrusts most of the conversation to his mother, Irina.

Timur was diagnosed with autism as a child. If he had been a few years older, his diagnosis today would have been “mental retardation” or “schizotypal disorder.” He was lucky—by the time he reached adulthood, Belarusian doctors were already following the new revision of the International Classification of Diseases, and his medical record listed autism.

Our hero is quite lucky. First and foremost thanks to his mother: Irina managed to “break through” Timur’s education—how he is called in the family—first in the first grade of a regular school under integration conditions, then in the first school in Minsk that created conditions for teaching children with autism at the secondary level.

“After primary school I started looking for places where he could continue his studies with his certificate, called several colleges he qualified for by scores, and everywhere I heard the same answer: we have nothing for people with autism, he won’t be able to study, he won’t be able to work in his field, we have

The boy entered college through a certificate competition. When Timur began his studies, Irina did not expect that the boy would actually settle into working on the assembly line of a huge factory. But she decided: tomorrow will be tomorrow, and for now three courses in college are, in any case, a great social experience for her son.

During his studies, Timur completed an eight‑month internship at ZAO “Atlant” with his classmates, so the company sent a placement application for him, as for all the other students. — At that time “Atlant” had its own medical department. As a young specialist, Timur had to undergo a medical examination there and bring a certificate confirming the absence of psychiatric registration. People with autism spectrum disorders are subject to such registration. And Timur did not receive permission to work. The label “psychiatrist client” often obscures excellent personal and professional qualities. And we hung in limbo for a couple of months: there was a placement, a specialty recommended by the expert commission, eight months of successful practice at the same plant, fresh professional education. And there was a “Atlant” therapist who saw contraindications to working on the conveyor. But since there was nowhere else to go, they hired Timur.

Timur gets to work and home on his own by public transport. The boy works as a locksmith on the conveyor in mild conditions — he is employed at the very end of the technological process, on packaging. — Timur, what are you doing at work? — we decided to clarify with the boy. — I glue refrigerators. The doors

— But that’s not important. Timur is a physically strong guy; he’ll work. I understand that on the conveyor it’s not good when you leave an hour early and someone else has to do everything for you. So he works like everyone else.

Timur remembers how, at first, he got lost in new places for him — in college, at the huge factory:

— Because it’s a new place, and I haven’t gotten used to it yet. I couldn’t find the right audience. It happens to everyone; I’m not the only one like that. And now it’s settled, — the young man muses.

To help Timur settle in faster, colleagues at the factory drew him diagrams, and overall the staff at “Atlant” is used to the bewildered faces of newcomers and always helps, assures Irina.

By the way, Timur is completely indifferent to money and gives all his salary to his mother. Irina says she always puts cash in her son’s wallet so that he knows what it costs and how much she has.