Politics of politeness

Yesterday Lala, Cal, Bee, Tia and I went shopping at the big shopping centre. I hired a wheelchair to save my legs the trauma of walking around the maddenly sprawling centre. It is all one level -- why they didn't think to build up levels rather than spread out sideways is beyond me. So anyway we arrived at 5,30 and picked up the chair from the customer service kiosk. I sat down and Lala pushed me towards Target. It was weird not being in control of my movement. Apparently everyone was staring at us, although me being so much shorter than everyone else I didn't see it. Which is good because I hate people staring. Have these people never seen anyone in a wheelchair before!?

Anyway I've noticed how inaccessable some places are. We went to the digital print thingo in in a major department store which shall remain nameless and the counter was a might too high. I couldn't angle the wheelchair to face the little computery thing so I had to be sideways. I had to go up to the front counter to ask a question and when I got back to the computer there was a bloke there in a store uniform. "Excuse me," I said, "can I use this machine?" I was assuming he was helping the lady on the other computer whom I knew was having difficulties but it turned out that he was intending to use the machine I wanted. "Oh, were you about to use this?" I asked. "No, don't worry about it now." He said, huffilly, and walked off. I hate people who feel entitled because of their disabilities -- don't get me wrong, there are some instances where concessions should be made -- and I had unwittingly become one of them!

I've noticed that the demeanour of the staff changes when you are in a wheelchair. Many of them lean over the counter, like they do for little kids. It's so weird to be so much shorter than everyone.

We ran into a mate of Cal's, who was with his wife (who Lala can't stand) and her parents, at the food court. Everyone said hello and I wheeled myself over to their table and said hi as Lala introduced me. "What have you done to yourself?" the mother said, looking me up and down. I said "I walk with a stick so this makes it easier" but I wish I said "I have a cancerous tumour in my calf bone so I can't walk." It shits me when people ask me that. If the woman wasn't the mother of a friend of Lala and Cal's (although I use the word 'friend' loosly) I would have said "none of your fucking business bitch" but alas my polite streak won out.