My Curriculum Vitae

Yesterday, another volunteer and I took a disabled, wheelchair-bound man out to do his grocery shopping. He needs help grocery shopping because he can hardly walk and he has trouble seeing with his eyes. Besides, he wants company, he wants people to chat to. So we took the bus to his home (he lives right next to Portobello Road, right next to the Notting Hill market!) and wheeled him to the bus stop to wait for a bus that would take us to the supermarket. I’ve never given much thought about how wheelchair-bound people get around in the city. All I have noticed is that buses are supplied with wheelchair spaces and certain underground stations have wheelchair access. After the shopping experience, I can’t believe how badly London, as a big city, is so badly equipped for people in wheelchairs. I was also appalled people in general’s attitude and behaviour towards wheelchair users.

So we were at the bus station waiting for the bus. The only way to get on the bus is for the driver to stop the bus as close to the pavement as possible, and pull out the ramp forming a bridge between the bus and the pavement for the wheelchair to be wheeled onto or off the bus. One bus comes and we try to get on, but the driver refuses to stop the bus closer to the pavement, and refuses to pull out the ramp. I stood there gaping at the bus’s behind and the driver as it drove away into the distance. What kind of fucking driver does that?? Fucking retard just drove away.

The next bus comes, and at least this driver has the moral sense to stop and pull out the ramp. There was a problem with the ramp though, it wouldn’t come out completely. At this point, about half of the bus’s passengers got off to wait for the next bus as if we were a bunch of asses delaying them severely. I guess people don’t even have a few minutes to spare for a wheelchair user to get on a half broken ramp. I felt so…frustrated and annoyed at the people who got off, I wanted to yell and shake my fists at them.

At the supermarket, while we were paying for the groceries, the disabled man used a special visa card to pay, one which wouldn’t require him to enter a pin number, because of his sight problem. The card didn’t work, and so a shop assistant took us to the customer services counter and tried the card again – still didn’t work. The disabled man requested to see their manager, because the card worked before. We waited about 10 minutes just for the damn manager to come down. He tried to swipe the card again, but still didn’t work. The manager hands the card back and says there’s nothing the supermarket can do about the card, we would need to contact the bank (at which point is already shut for the day). The disabled man started to get a little impatient and annoyed and demanded the manager to try again. Eventually, a heated argument started between the two, one demanding that the card should work, the other trying to push all the responsibilities onto the bank. As I looked around me, I saw how people passing by us all looked with a ugly look at the disabled man, as if he was some kind of plague. None of them gave the manager such a look. I guess people automatically assume any trouble must be started by a disabled person in a wheelchair. Then the manager took the card and tried it again, and it worked! Hah, his attitude completely changed, his tone softer, his face curled into an unwilling smile, and apologized to the man over and over again. Bastard manager. On our way back, about 6 buses passed by before a driver would bother pulling the ramp out for us.

When I first started volunteering, I noticed that a lot of the disabled people there were great and friendly people, but became bitter when exposed to the general public. I never understood why, and always thought it’s a shame that the public who encounter them don’t get to see the inspirational aspect of these disabled people. Now I understand why they are bitter. They are bitter to avoid being vulnerable or bullied by a world of people who shut the disabled out of their lives.