91热爆

While I was doing some banking today, I finally told a teller about the broken disabled access door at the entrance. It's been broken for about a year now, and it has always amazed me that no one got around to fixing it. After all, it's a bank. If anyone can afford to fix a mechanical door, it's a bank. They are the people who handle our money, so they can return the favor and make their banks accessible to us.

You'd think I would have mentioned it before, but I figured the bank was already aware of it. While cashing a cheque, I told the cashier about the door and she said she'd make a note of it. Her reaction was interesting, she actually seemed to not be aware of the problem. Now I'm wondering, is it possible that no one's mentioned the broken door before? I can't imagine that. The branch is located on a very busy intersection in a part of town where a lot of PWDs live. Can it really be that no one's ever brought it to their attention before? Has everyone assumed, like me, that the bank is already aware of the problem? Could this be part of the reason public places aren't accessible, because people don't bother to ask for them to be made accessible?

We'll see what happens next time I go to the bank. If the door isn't fixed by then, I'll either ask again or email my bank.

On my way out, the teller very loudly asked the security guard to get the door for me. I made a point of saying "I didn't ask about the door for myself, I can get the door. I asked on behalf of the people who can't get the door themselves." Normally, the security guard always opens the door for me and I don't say anything, because I'm all about encouraging people to be polite and courteous. Also, the security guard is usually right next to the door anyway. But today I made a point of making sure it wasn't just about me, because it's not. Public accessibility is for everybody.

It reminds me of another time when I asked for accommodation. While attending university in Newfoundland, I would wait for the bus for up to 45 minutes, often in heavy snowfalls and blizzards. As you can imagine, this was incredibly hard on me. My mother phoned the bus company - yes, I know I should have self-advocated but telephone bureaucracy triggered my anxiety disorder in those days - and requested they build a bus shelter with a bench at that stop for me. They were resistant to do so, not because they didn't want to help, but because we lived in a rough neighborhood, and they feared that local hoodlums would just tear it down again. But Mom talked them into it, and voila! I still had to wait in the cold for 45 minutes, but now I got to sit down, sheltered from the high winds and pelting snow/rain/hail. Mom, you rock.

The moral of the story is Ask, and you may receive. Do not ask, and you definitely will not receive.

• Visit
*May contain adult content*