Shopping's one of my favorite pastimes because my brain captures it as positive stress. I've shopped in Paris, New York City, Beverly Hills, London, Seattle, Copenhagen, Geneva, Bordeaux, Atlanta, Toulouse, Poitiers, Tours, Marseille, Los Angeles, Montpellier, Nice, Strasbourg, Greensboro, Charlotte, Brooklyn, Chicago, and New Orleans, just to name a few cities. I love clothes. My agenda's simple. Whenever I've money, I shop till I drop. If I don't have money, I don't shop at all.
Therefore, shopping's a gift. I've been able to give away many priceless gifts to many children in Africa, America, and Europe such as a Baldwin piano, three electrical pianos, a Macintosh Apple computer, a Maytag refrigerator, a printer, a word processor, hundreds of magazines, millions of clothes, thousands of shoes, hundreds of movie tapes, hundreds of cds, two TV, thousands of canned foods, flowers, five paintings, and furniture to children prior to founding my writing business in 1985. I bought some of them from Nordstrom, Bloomingdales, and Sak's Fifth Avenue.
In as much as I enjoy shopping, some of it hasn't always been pleasurable, especially since the day that my only child was kidnapped, the day before my June 21, 2003 birthday. Never in my wildest imagination did I visualize that some retail stores would discriminate against me all because of my physical disability. Yes, I'm disabled. I walk with a cane because I was injured when I was two years old. I fell down from a flight of stairs, and injured several parts of my brain. Owing to this fall, I lack motor skills. When I was four years old, my father whom I shared an extraordinary bond presented me with a piano. The piano rewired my brain, and accorded me minimal motor skills.
Though, I'm clumsy at basic skills such as driving, grasping objects, standing, and walking, I've made up in cooking, playing the piano, storytelling, and writing, among other passions. Most importantly, I fight passionately for all children because I was injured as a child. Please allow me to give you an account of the discrimination that I stomached inside three retail stores in America.
On Sunday, September 11, 2005, I went to shop at FedEx Kinko's in Atlanta, Georgia for my writing business. In the past, I purchased stamp labels in the FedEx Kinko's retail stores in California and Maryland. On September 11, 2005, I entered the store with my cane. I was excited so I mounted the escalators to the first floor in the hopes of purchasing this important item. Due to the fact that my hands disable me the most, stamp labels come in handy. Typing is a chore that entails motor skills.
“I need to purchase stamp labels for my business. Can you show me the different designs so that I would select the best one for my business?” I asked.
“We don't have designs,” he said.
“The other stores showed me designs. I won't be able to select one until I look at the different designs that you have,” I said.
“You ask too many technical questions,” he said.
“I just would like to choose the best design for my business,” I said.
“You are asking too many technical questions,” he repeated.
He refused to show me the designs. Instead, he started yelling at me in the presence of two customers, and a female employee. I couldn't fathom why he would choose irate over courtesy with a customer, let alone a disabled one. It was as if he wanted me to yell back, but I simply ignored him. His voice was suddenly full of anger, annoyance, and antagonism. He roared like a lion. His voice shook the whole building. He practically became a terror on wheels.
If anyone had told me that I would befall such spitting madness on Sunday, September 11, 2005, I'd not have believed them. But then again, I stand corrected. In the land of freedom, I forgot all about the copycats who loom in dark shadows on the anniversary of September 11, 2001.
“I will not show you any designs. You ask too many technical questions,” he yelled on top of his lungs.
“I should remind you that I'm disabled,” I said.
“I will still not show you the designs,” he yelled again.
My brain captured it as negative stress. I fell sideways, and injured my ankle again. Immediately, I made my way to the lobby area for fear that I might fall down, and injure my head again.
“Ma'am, you've taken the wrong turn,” he said.
“Thank you very much,” I said.
I took the escalators to the revolving doors. When I reached them, I got lost, but the kind security guard reminded me.
