|
My safety vest strikes again, man-handled in my wheelchair
Hello! TLDR @ The bottom (Post has been edited/updated at the bottom of the body of text) [context] So I've posted before about my safety vest. Due to being in a wheelchair, and people around where I live being utterly vapid, knuckle dragging and mouth-breathing neanderthals that don't pay attention I'm pretty much forced to wear this high-visibility yellow-green safety vest. Where I run into my most constant issue, is at a local supermarket. It's owned by Kroger, but locally we know it as Fred Meyer (Or Fred Meyer's). Their trolley-boys (cart wranglers) all wear near identical safety vests to mine, only theirs actually have black trim added to the vest along with Fred Meyer plastered on the left breast and the back. That, and the employees actually have name-tags on. I look like a biker by comparison with my beard, heavy tattoos, all black clothes, and I top it off with a Pride 49'ers hat. I mean, the hat alone should be a clear sign I don't work there but nope! I should also point out, that I'm a voice actor. When I'm out in public, I speak with a posh, North-London English accent as I've found due to implicit bias people tend to treat me better. This comes into play here. [The Event] This event happened Friday. I headed out to preform what I call the "Double Whammy", picking up my prescriptions from the Pharmacy inside Fred Meyer, and doing a bit of food shopping. I waved or greeted my regular employees and managers, as I'm in there so much and so often that I'm a pretty recognizable face. Between my (as I'm told) natural charisma and my appearance I'm often greeted back warmly, or they greet me initially with politeness and a generally friendly atmosphere by the staff at my Supermarket. I had wheeled my chair into the Soup isle. There were so many delicious options that I couldn't decide on what to get. I can be a bit indecisive, and trust me when I say never shop hungry! I don't think I was in the Isle more than 5 minutes when I hear that "throat clearing" "eh-hem!" emanate from behind me. I ignore it, because I've no idea it's meant for me or what. It happens again, and I continue to ignore it. That's when this lady grabbed the handles on my wheelchair and spun me around. It took every ounce of effort not to turn and swing on her because I had no idea who she was or her intentions, but obviously she had no qualms over grabbing someone's wheelchair and maneuvering them against their will. Before I could say a single word, our Karen in this situation starts to shout. "Hey! When a customer is trying to get your attention, you don't ignore them! I have been trying to get your attention for minutes now (She hadn't) and I don't like your attitude." I take a deep breath, and do my best to unclench my hands from the arm-rests of my wheelchair. "Madam, I am sorry if I've offended you (I wasn't), but I must inform you that-" I was cut off! Due to my mental quirks, and conditioning as a child, any time I'm interrupted I get shut completely down and I can't speak till the other person stops talking, so I went silent. "I don't want to hear any of your excuses! Just because you're in a f'ng wheelchair doesn't mean you can get away with being an inconsiderate asshole. The world doesn't revolve around you (That's rich...) and there are other people in the world far more in need than you. I have half a mind to wheel you over to the Service Desk and report you to management." I waited a couple of beats, waiting to see if her rant was going to continue, but it didn't. She gave me a look that I could without any measure of difficulty correctly identify as a, "your move" glare. I take another deep breath, "Mum, firstly, it's illegal and sociably irresponsible and outright tactless to man-handle a person's disability conveyance without their consent. That, counts as assault. While yelling and screaming at me isn't illegal per-say, I don't appreciate it. Tell me Mum, what incentive do I have to assist you at this point? I don't work here, look me over! I don't have a name-tag on, I'm in black jeans and T-shirt with a gay-pride 49'ers hat on that clearly isn't uniform. I'm just wearing a safety vest, for my safety!" Karen looked like she was about to blow her skull-cap with the force of Mt. St. Hellens, Krakatoa, and Tambora combined (Look it up). I honestly don't remember what she said next. It was something about the typical "how dare you?!" stacked with her rant about disabled people always thinking they can get away with anything just because they're crippled. That was when she lived up to her threat. She stepped around me, grabbed the handles and began to push me! I was so bewildered, that I froze because I never in a thousand-years would've thought she would actually do this. Now I could've pulled the break handles on my chair, but that would mean I'd have to take my hand off the merchandise basket in my lap which would cause it to slip out once we stopped abruptly. Top that off with the fact Karen would smack into my back and the back of my head and I didn't want that. Two of the regular check-out attendants at the self-check-out area, notice me being pushed against my will towards customer service. I can just catch one I'm more familiar with (For the purposes of this story lets call him Owen) Owen, immediately get on his radio. Before I could do anything more, we were at the desk. Karen immediately starts slapping her hand on the counter in that typical "hey barkeep!" kind of manner. A manager, a woman in her late 20's or 30's we'll call Amanda turns to the Karen. Amanda is quite tall and loaded down with Marvel Comics tattoos and we're very familiar with one another. Karen launches into a full-blown tirade, accusing me of this, that, and everything from incompetence, to an all-out disregard for customer service. Amanda just blinked, and said, "Um, he doesn't work here." "What do you mean he doesn't work here?! He's wearing a safety vest, and your employees wear the same ones!" "Well, ours say Fred Meyer on them. We also issue name-tags for all employees for transparency, so if you have an issue you know who they are. OP is a customer, he's in here at least 4 times a week." I could hear the hamster-wheels turning in Karen's head. "So...he doesn't work here? Let me speak to the store manager just in case." Amanda sighed, picked up her phone, and began to call the store manager. However, that call didn't finish, as the head of Fred Meyer security (Lets call him Clark) came striding over looking quite pissed. Clark is a mountain of a man. 6'-5", 250 pounds, and built like a lumberjack. "Mam, what are you doing to OP?! You really just grabbed a disabled person's wheelchair and move them without their consent." "Well I-" "That wasn't a question. You don't do that. Not at my store." "But I-" "Can it. You need to come with me right now." If looks could kill, I'd be dead twice over between Karen's "you little bastard" glare, and Clark's "ya' done f'ed up" look meant for Karen. Karen was escorted off to the security area in the back, sputtering like an old Edsel. Amanda asked if I was alright. I said I really wasn't, that things had been difficult for me this last week (I won't disclose them here) and this really spiked my anxiety. I'm just going to go home." Amanda did her best to comfort me. She stepped out of the booth, and patted me on the shoulder. Owen, the self-check-out attendant, also asked if I was okay. I said I wasn't really. He offered, if I was comfortable, to push me back out to my car. I accepted. Amanda gave me a card, and told me that when I was ready I could use that number to have my groceries delivered and for my trouble she'd wave the fee for delivery. I thanked her, and said that'd be best for now. Owen wheeled me out to my car, helped me get my wheelchair in my trunk and I drove home. [TLDR] While shopping and wearing my high-visibility vest a Karen gets upset that I wasn't giving her attention after she cleared her throat to ping me. She berates me for a multitude of reasons. When I refuse to help her, as I don't work at the store, she grabs my wheelchair and wheels me over to customer service. There, she's informed I indeed don't work there, and was carted off by security. [EDIT] At the behest of several readers, my husband, and my immediate friends/family, I've set up an appointment to speak with the Store Manager, Clark (The Security Lead), and my local Sheriff to go about filing official charges. [Update/Edit #II] I attended the meeting with the Manager who was on duty the hour if the incident, Clark the Security Guard-lead, my Laywer, and my Local Sheriff. As of this moment, the matter is now out of my hands. Sheriff's department is moving ahead with an arrest, and my lawyer is working on a prosecution. I won't/cant disclose the details of the civil part of the case until the matter is considered closed. For the wonderful people whom suggested I file kidnapping charges, it turns out there's a specific charge for what she did. It's called Transporting***. Transporting is the act of manipulating an individual through some means (***Intimidation, physical manipulation, or threat) from one place to another against their will. In my area, Kidnapping requires a prolonged detention. As she ultimately pushed me to the Kiosk then let go of my chair, legally speaking she had no further control of my movements and it didn't count as kidnapping. My Lawyer and I are working on the transporting charge at this time. Clark, and Nice Manager, as well as some of the clerks that witnessed, all handed in statements to the Sheriff on my behalf. He isn't a lawyer, but says there's a mountain of evidence that makes it highly unlikely she'll squeak away without some charge sticking. Thank you all for your support, kind words, and suggestions. submitted by /u/Damionstjames to r/IDontWorkHereLady [link] [comments]
|
r/IDontWorkHereLady |
Damionstjames |
Aug 31, 2021 |