A bad habit
Last Saturday we went to visit our daughter at University, and at the close of a lovely afternoon – during which it stopped raining for long enough to allow a lovely bright blue sky to emerge, with warm sunshine, a fitting end to British Summer Time – we had the ritual trawl around the supermarket and then back to her digs with several shopping bags.
As husband stood from the car and daughter went to fetch her provisions, I automatically assumed – bad habit – that I would be staying with the car, even although I have no real problem with stairs and do indeed enjoy the challenge of them. While my present self knows that I enjoy a challenge, because of the extra walk, and the stairs to climb to my daughter’s room in a top flat, my more historically timid self bid her a fond farewell, and then sat and waited, for husband to lift and carry his share of the bags and return.
It was only as we were driving away that it occurred to me: I didn’t need to wait by myself with the car. I could have accompanied my husband and daughter up to her flat. They would not have minded, and indeed, it would have been good fun, even if, as I feared, it would have taken an extra ten minutes to do everything. So what? My daughter is not one to resent the minutes I spend at her side, nor would she tut impatiently as she waited for me to catch up.
That I think she might, is a residue of an ancient habit that I have yet to entirely shrug off: This idea of being a nuisance, somehow in the way. The next time we visit, I do hope that I have the courage to simply join in, and not worry about the extra time it takes, to make time for me. I reflect how often I have excused myself rather than face this dilemma, and only now realise that my husband and daughter see me in a very different light from that of my childhood. No longer a nuisance, but a part of their lives, accepted, and expected to participate.
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November 30, 2021
Not as easy as it looks
Fran Macilvey 'Trapped: My Life with Cerebral Palsy', cerebral palsy, Fran's School of Hard Knocks 0 Comments
Not as easy as it looks
Life, sometimes, is not as easy as it looks. Before my usual riding lesson this morning – a lesson which was cut short because Mr Bob has caught a dose of the flu bug going round the stables – I went shopping for groceries for my mother. I was up against the clock and thought it would be simple, forgetting that traffic in the morning is a bit congested.
But having arrived and parked, remembered to wear my mask and having skipped as fast as I could round the shelves, I waited to be served at the single cash-desk with a member of staff checking out groceries. And I did wonder whether I should use the self-service check-outs, as seemed to be the general expectation.
I would love to use the self-service more often, and I do realise that most retail outlets would encourage this. Many stores now offer only self-service to departing customers, having dispensed with check-out assistants almost altogether. But I find self-service hard to manage. Not only does the scanner seem to work very slowly and haltingly for me, but with an elbow-crutch on one arm, having to scan items with codes on, navigate stacks of groceries and packing bags as well as masks and clouded glasses, I just despair of ever managing to complete a self-service shop in less time than it would take me to have a bath: not quite the ‘quick and easy’ option touted by the supermarkets then.
And, when shopping in a hurry, that makes for an unenviable choice: wait in a long queue for the single check-out available at which there is a member of staff ready to assist (there being three other check-outs un-manned despite the queues of customers clearly still wedded to the idea of staffed checkouts) or spend a fraught twenty minutes trying not to fall, get tangled up with bags, or drop and spoil groceries which I am supposed to stack and pack in the ludicrously small space available at self-service kiosks. Not to mention that old saw thankfully receding, “Unexpected item in the bagging area,” which no-one seems able to explain, let alone comply with.
Yes, technology is easy, assuming you have a head for passwords, thin, quick digits for texting and typing, and an inordinate patience with processes which require to be carried out either self-service or on-line or both. But it isn’t as easy as it looks, nor as simple as those in the know will tell us. I bet, if there was a time and motion study carried out before ‘smart technological advances’ were introduced, we would discover that – surprise! – the much-touted time and manpower cost savings are seriously eroded by the real-time soul-destroying minutiae of errors, corrections, procedural requirements, compliance, and the loss of goodwill that fed-up customers represent.
‘Quick and easy’ is so often the euphemism for ‘less expensive’, a euphemism which also implies that anyone who disagrees, or who doesn’t actively enjoy ‘quick and easy’ is a party pooper, behind the times, a behemoth. But I’m not an ice-age mammoth, I’m merely a busy woman short of time who wants to buy groceries without having the run yet another gamut of challenge and difficulty. It would be simplistic of me to ask the supermarkets to ‘bring back the check-out staff’, but the fact that I am waiting, obviously hampered by my walking aid, and in a hurry might suggest to someone that they could offer to help. Because Life is not as easy as it looks.
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