A tale of two businesses

Okay, first off, I realize how ridiculously long it has been since I've posted anything. I expect that if there are any regular readers, they're thinking what the ----? And, quickly deciding to forget about my little ramblings. Okay, I'll try to do better. I have a lot of in-progress posts and will strive to get them all posted soon.

With that preface, on to the topic at hand. Accessibile shopping.

I live in a wonderful city that is generally pretty aware of the need to make things wheelchair-accessible. But, it is a city with many old (pre-ADA) buildings, many of which are very...quirky...and not necessarily easy to adapt as needed to permit shoppers on wheels to frequent them. This, I have discovered, will be a constant issue for me as I go through my city--whether with or without my boy at my side (or up in front of me, or dawdling several paces behind, or wherever that sometimes-naughty four-year-old decides to travel). You see, I sort of see the world differently now. Where before I never noticed the little step or stoop here or there, now I see them all as if they were six feet high. After all, any rise more than a few inches might as well be a few feet for purposes of my boy's powerchair being able to overcome it.

With that backgound (I promise to not start every other paragraph with a "With that" caveat), on with the story. Some weeks ago, I was preparing for my son's fourth birthday party. At his request, I had agreed to perform some magic at the party. I once dabbled in magic in a long-ago mini-career, but had not done much magic in many years (at least not the needle-through-the-baloon type of magic...I think there's lots of other magic that happens every day, but that's another topic for another post).

Despite living in a metropolitan area with several million people, there is only one real brick-and-mortar magic shop around. And, it has a step. Just one, right out front from the street into the door. And, it's tall enough to be an insurmountable barrier. I've encountered shops with steps like this before and been pleasantly surprised that they had a portable ramp in a back closet that they gladly brought out to allow entry. Pretty low-tech, cheap, and simple, but immensely effective and a just-perfect solution for a small business. But, this magic shop? No such luck. I knew this, but I really, really wanted to go there to get some supplies for the party. So I called and spoke with the owner.

I very nicely explained my situation--that I'd love to come shop there, but can't get through the door because of the step and would he please get a simple ramp or something so I can become a regular customer. Okay, so I said I was the wheelchair-user because it was much simpler than explaining I wanted my son to be able to come in, even though he wouldn't actually accompany me until later, etc., etc. The point is that I don't want to frequent a business that does not welcome my boy. No more than I'd want to go to a restaurant that serves me, but not my African-American family members.

Naive me, I figured the owner would immediately say "oh, I never thought about that and yes, indeed, I can get a ramp on Tuesday, see you on Wednesday." Not so. He was outright hostile. Basically said too bad, he doesn't particularly care that I can't get in. Couldn't be bothered to even look into the cost of a ramp, and essentially couldn't give a shit. Wow. That was shocking and infuriating. And, pretty profoundly upsetting. This wasn't just a case of some ignorant person staring at my boy, this was someone saying he does not want to be bothered with him. Needless to say, I bought my magic supplies on-line.

Depressing and infuriating.

Flash forward a week or so and I decide to go to a great old bookstore that I've been to hundreds of times. I know the entry is no problem. I know that even though there is an upstairs section, the children's section is on the ground level so I can take my kids there and get them some books. We arrive, with my boy leading the charge, and find out the store has rearranged the sections and now the childrens' books are up on the other side of four stairs. It's an old, quirky building crammed with books...one of those great semi-musty bookshops that has been around for decades. A real landmark. But, all of a sudden, unwelcoming to my family.

So, I ask at the counter to talk to the manager. Soon two men come to see me--the co-owners of the shop. I explain the predicament and ask if there is some way they can install a ramp up those four steps so my boy can grow up going to this great shop instead of just Borders or Barnes & Noble. The owners are very thoughtful about it, tell me they struggled with the fact that some of their shop is not wheelchair acessible, and have tried to do what they can with the physical space they have. They looked into a ramp, they say, but it just won't work in the space. And, I can actually see their point. There just isn't enough room in this quirky 100-ish year old building. They explain that they will do anything they can to accomodate...even bringing an entire section worth of books down to a customer who uses a wheelchair. And, I can tell they are serious and not just feeding me bullshit excuses. We have a good talk and I explain how much I was looking forward to my kids growing up and going to this bookstore (totally sincere and true). They get it. They give me their contact information. They explain they're having a meeting with the third owner next week and they will all discuss it again.

Then, a week later, I get a call from one of them. He tells me they did meet and did look into the feasibility of a ramp again, but that it just won't fit. I explain that maybe they can try a lift--not an elevator but a simple, fairly inexpensive (as these things go) platform lift that would enable someone to wheel onto it, raise it, and wheel off on the top of these four steps. He gets on the web as I'm describing this device and sees it and says they'll look into it. And I believe they will. And, even if it ends up not working out, I feel that they really will try. Because their building is so old, I think it is exempt from ADA requirements to some extent (although these experiences remind me I really need to learn the details of that law), so they don't need to do anything at all. But it's clear that they want to if they can. I'm left feeling like they don't hold my boy ini contempt like the magic shop ass. No, they respect him and his mobility needs. It's a world of difference and restores some faith in people for me.

So, that's my tale of two businesses. I guess the moral is that what you do, although very important, isn't as important as how you do it. Simply caring, and recognizing everyone's need for respect and dignity can go a long, long way to creating a less-imperfect world.