My thanks to my neighborhood supermarket and all of the other stores that still have real people at some of their check-out aisles. It’s a lot easier for folks like me, who have a handicap like multiple sclerosis (MS), when we don’t have to be our own check-out clerks.
It’s one of the little things that make a big difference when you’re riding a mobility scooter, using crutches, or even just leaning on a cane.
To use a self-service check-out at a food store I need to juggle two bags of groceries, one on my lap and one between my legs, then somehow scan all the items, and finally get each item re-packed. It’s an act worthy of a circus performer. Reaching behind me and up to insert my credit card into the payment slot is another difficult task. (For some reason there’s no chip-swiping or Apple Pay at self-checking.) Maybe it’s easy for an average shopper but not for someone with a disability. What were people thinking when they designed this, and a few other things?
It’s not just a problem at the check-out
There’s a handicapped accessible curb cut in the parking lot of the ice rink where my grandson plays hockey. The cut is on a sidewalk just out into the lot and has a parking spot next to it that’s parallel to the curb. If there’s a car in that spot there’s no room for a scooter to get through to the cut. Duh!
I also ran into a curb cut problem a couple of years ago when I was leaving for a cruise with our son and his family. I needed to drive my scooter to the passenger side of the shuttle bus that would take us from the parking garage to the cruise terminal. But the bus pulled up with the curb on its driver’s side and there was no cut to get me from the curb to the other side of the bus where the scooter would be loaded. Fortunately, my traveling scooter is light enough for someone to lift it off the curb for me.
I’ve found that accessibility was generally good on my Disney cruise. My accessible stateroom was large (the bathroom was huge for a cruise ship) and the cabin had an automatic door that was activated by a swipe of my keycard. I’d never had that on a cruise before and it made in-and-outs much easier.
It was also a breeze getting around the ship on my scooter. All the passageway doors were equipped with motion sensors and there were no raised thresholds to cross. However, while many of the public restrooms were marked “handicapped,” none had an automatic door. Was this a deliberate money saving decision or just a lack of thinking when the ship was being designed?
It’s a mindset problem
A lack of appreciation of the needs of people with a handicap isn’t uncommon when I go places.
I was particularly annoyed, one evening, by a hostess who seated a group of us who were out to dinner. Ignoring that I was riding my scooter, she ushered us to a table at the far end of an outdoor seating area. The location required me to navigate through other tables that were unoccupied, but very close together. She and the others in the group could squeeze through, but not me. I had to push aside chairs with one hand as I steered with the other. I moved one of the heavy metal tables, too. The hostess never looked back at me, never asked if I needed help or if a different table would be better. She also never suggested that I enter using a side gate, which was right next to our table but I that hadn’t seen.
When I finally arrived at the table I said to the hostess, “That was quite an obstacle course.” In return, she just smiled. I don’t think she got my message. But my wife did. “Don’t be such a grouch,” she whispered to me.
But people with handicaps need to be grouches, once in a while. If we don’t say something, how will we get the architects and hostesses and the rest the world to become more aware of the little things they can do to make life just a little easier for us?
