Friday, January 31, 2020
My older daughter, Megan, got her mortgage through the credit union I use for my business banking. I use that credit union because it is close to my house and the bus I ride out of my neighborhood has a stop across the street so I can get off there on my way home, usually. For almost six weeks there has been a thick sheet of ice on the sidewalk between the bus stop and the curb cut. If I got off at that stop I would be trapped until the next bus came to pick me up.
Last week I was at a bus stop where both bus routes that go near my credit union intersect. The bus I usually take apparently already had two people in wheelchairs on the bus because the driver told me he was full. I knew I would get home faster if I took the bus waiting across the street rather than wait half an hour for the next bus that goes closest to my house. The stop on that route is right in front of my credit union so I rolled in to deposit some money.
When I came out of the credit union, I decided to cross the street to determine if that sheet of ice was as bad as it seemed from the bus. It was worse. The ice was approximately four inches deep and 12-feet long by seven-feet wide covering the entire sidewalk and extending all the way to the street curb. If I managed to get on top of the ice, chances are I would have slid off the curb and toppled into the street to be hit by an automobile. Game over.
That stop is important because for some reason Megan likes paper paychecks. She says they feel more real and only gets direct deposit from the one job that will not issue paper checks. Megan’s direct deposits go into the account she uses for groceries, gas, insurance, and other non-home-related expenses. Megan puts her checks from her other two jobs into her account at my credit union. Actually, Megan puts her checks in an envelope with her bank account number on it at my house and I take the envelope to the credit union to deposit at the end of the month so the money is there for her mortgage payment on the first.
My helper volunteered to take the envelope for me after her shift yesterday, so I would not need to take the bus with the accessible credit union stop after my doctor’s appointment this afternoon and come straight home (I would be catching the bus from the same corner as last week). My helper started asking me what name the account was under and I told her the tellers never ask me that. I give the teller the envelope, ask them to deposit into checking, and tell them the account number is on the envelope.
My helper looked at me skeptically and left for the credit union. The plan was for her to bring me the receipt on Monday, but she realized she left her cleaning gloves at my house, so she came back. My helper told me that not only did they ask her for the name on the account; they asked if she was on the account. I told her that had never happened to me and she told me it was because I use a wheelchair.
While Megan was putting me in bed last night, I mentioned my helper’s experience at the credit union and how that was so different from mine. Megan looked at me and said, “That is because you have four-wheel privilege, Mom.” I can see that. People do treat me different because I am in a wheelchair. It may have happened, but I do not remember anyone ever telling me no when I ask complete strangers to open a door or hand me an item from a shelf I am unable to reach.
My piece of advice to you is take whatever privilege you can get. Would I rather be able bodied and do all my tasks on my own? Of course, but I do not have that choice. If my four-wheel privilege invokes feelings of kindness in others, I am all for it.
Until next time,
Susanne
Please check out my GoFundMe page.
My older daughter, Megan, got her mortgage through the credit union I use for my business banking. I use that credit union because it is close to my house and the bus I ride out of my neighborhood has a stop across the street so I can get off there on my way home, usually. For almost six weeks there has been a thick sheet of ice on the sidewalk between the bus stop and the curb cut. If I got off at that stop I would be trapped until the next bus came to pick me up.
Last week I was at a bus stop where both bus routes that go near my credit union intersect. The bus I usually take apparently already had two people in wheelchairs on the bus because the driver told me he was full. I knew I would get home faster if I took the bus waiting across the street rather than wait half an hour for the next bus that goes closest to my house. The stop on that route is right in front of my credit union so I rolled in to deposit some money.
When I came out of the credit union, I decided to cross the street to determine if that sheet of ice was as bad as it seemed from the bus. It was worse. The ice was approximately four inches deep and 12-feet long by seven-feet wide covering the entire sidewalk and extending all the way to the street curb. If I managed to get on top of the ice, chances are I would have slid off the curb and toppled into the street to be hit by an automobile. Game over.
That stop is important because for some reason Megan likes paper paychecks. She says they feel more real and only gets direct deposit from the one job that will not issue paper checks. Megan’s direct deposits go into the account she uses for groceries, gas, insurance, and other non-home-related expenses. Megan puts her checks from her other two jobs into her account at my credit union. Actually, Megan puts her checks in an envelope with her bank account number on it at my house and I take the envelope to the credit union to deposit at the end of the month so the money is there for her mortgage payment on the first.
My helper volunteered to take the envelope for me after her shift yesterday, so I would not need to take the bus with the accessible credit union stop after my doctor’s appointment this afternoon and come straight home (I would be catching the bus from the same corner as last week). My helper started asking me what name the account was under and I told her the tellers never ask me that. I give the teller the envelope, ask them to deposit into checking, and tell them the account number is on the envelope.
My helper looked at me skeptically and left for the credit union. The plan was for her to bring me the receipt on Monday, but she realized she left her cleaning gloves at my house, so she came back. My helper told me that not only did they ask her for the name on the account; they asked if she was on the account. I told her that had never happened to me and she told me it was because I use a wheelchair.
While Megan was putting me in bed last night, I mentioned my helper’s experience at the credit union and how that was so different from mine. Megan looked at me and said, “That is because you have four-wheel privilege, Mom.” I can see that. People do treat me different because I am in a wheelchair. It may have happened, but I do not remember anyone ever telling me no when I ask complete strangers to open a door or hand me an item from a shelf I am unable to reach.
My piece of advice to you is take whatever privilege you can get. Would I rather be able bodied and do all my tasks on my own? Of course, but I do not have that choice. If my four-wheel privilege invokes feelings of kindness in others, I am all for it.
Until next time,
Susanne
Please check out my GoFundMe page.