Saundra Adams

STORE GREETERS

I know that we all have a hard time using a tool that advertises our handicaps. Even when a tool would make things easier for us. Handicap stickers for the cars, canes and walkers, wheelchairs. The handicap sticker was hard for me. Everyone I know said, "You need this, and should do it." It feels as if I am giving up something I can never get back. I knew that I should do it. Finally, I did, asking my doctor to write a prescription for it, which he did. I can no longer drive now (another freedom gone) but still if someone takes me, it is easier to let me out, and pick me up, instead of me having to wait by the door while they retrieve the car. I had been using the shopping cart as a tool instead of a walker, or cane. Then when it started to become a problem, all of those good people said, "Saundra come on, the electric carts are there for people who need them." Well again, I thought I would give it a chance. I worked up my courage (as you get to know me, I do not have a lot of courage) and planned a trip to a large store making a sign "New Driver".

In the door I went, riddled with anxiety. Going over to one of the riding carts, looking carefully at how they are plugged into the wall to charge up the battery. Oh scary, they are electric and batteries. What if the battery runs out of its charge when I am at the back of the store? The greeter that was there, who I feel I know, (I always go in her door). She is older then I am, but she seems to be in great health, came over and asked "Do you need some help?" I asked a question, "So, they are electric?" Of course I already knew that, I was nervous. She unplugged one and sat me in it. Showing me how to use the buttons, and telling me it had been plugged in and charged up, not to worry. I love her, I feel as if she is family to me. Off I went, jerking and stopping, jerking and stopping. The basket seemed so nice. I could put my purse in it, put things I was intending to buy and it was perfect to put my oxygen in. I thought "well maybe this is not bad." I also thought that as I got used to it, it would not jerk so much when I pushed on the buttons. I made my way down the long, open aisle to test it.

Feeling a little easier, I knew where I wanted to go first. I am totally addicted to pajamas, and soft socks. I have more pajamas and socks then any other thing in my closet, and still want more, they are like clothes to me. I wear them all the time instead of having to wear two outfits a day. Having Fibromyalgia, soft is a blessing. I headed out to the pajamas, anticipation leading the way.

Around the big aisle I went, confidence gaining as I did better with the buttons. Into the ladies' department I ventured. I did notice that there was less room between the circular clothing racks. They were really close to each other. I thought to myself, "come on, just take it easy, and it will be ok." About which time, I came around a rack, two ladies had stopped in front of me, and right into them I plowed. "Oh my god, oh my god," and the rack dumped over, and then another one, and another one. "Oh my god, oh my god, are you hurt? "I am so sorry, oh my god, what to do, what to do? Sounding like one of the characters in Alice In Wonderland. The ladies both picked their purses up, fixed their clothing and were telling me they were fine, "It's okay", they said. A Sales Associate walked over, covering her mouth with her hand, I am sure she was trying to quit laughing. I told her I was new at this, my first time, and was so sorry. She said, "Really, your first time? I would never have known that." She then put her hand on the button that makes it move and guided me back into the big aisle. The ladies that I had managed to knock over, stood patting me on the back, and saying nice things to me, comforting me. Bless their hearts, and they were not hurt. The Associate said, "Keep going down the wide aisles, and get up and walk to look in the departments." If I could have done that I would not need the cart. But nonetheless, I was finished for the day. The person who brought me had come running up when I was pushed in the center aisle by the Associate, I said, "Please take me home" not a question, a command.

I recuperated for a few days, vowing to never do it again. Everyone I knew was telling me "if you fall off the horse, you get right back on and try again." After I had been badgered long enough, I thought I would try again. I made another sign, to tape on the front of the cart "new driver" and entered the door where the sweet lady was the greeter. She has known me for a long time, I always go in her door. She saw my sign, shook her head back and forth, a definite no. She whispered then quite softly, "Try to practice at lumber stores first, they have bigger aisles."

And that dear readers, I will leave for another time.

Saundra Adams is 61 years of age, has COPD, Fibromyalgia, Asthma, and is in generally delicate health. She loves the computer, her four dogs, food, and counted cross stitch embroidery. She has always wanted to write a book and started with poetry. Her poetry is simple, an easy read for those who love poetry. She wants it to touch others somewhere in their lives. Adams tries to take on subjects that others would not. "My essays are a new outlet for me, and I am having fun. I hope for all who read them."