The Cat Whisperer (
dubhain) wrote in
accessibility_fail2014-09-06 02:19 am
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Dear IKEA
I love the concept of IKEA. Really. I do. You have ALL THE THINGS. I like your meatballs. I loathe the fact that you assume your customers all live in aircraft hangers with padded floors, when it comes to assembling your flat pack, but I digress. That's a rant for another time and place.
IKEA, I'm not in a wheelchair, so I understand you might not've noticed I'm mobility impaired. I walk with a cane, which is easily overlookable. But IKEA, one of my major problems is stenosis in my lower back, and I gotta tell you: You don't make it easy to visit your store. In fact, after the hellish amount of pain I experienced today, I won't be back. And that's a pity, IKEA, because I could become a very good, very regular customer.
First of all, those shiny, hard concrete floors? Yeah. Those. They make it hard for folks like me to spend any length of time on their feet in your store. And yeah, you have a couple of little benches outside your "OMG try all the furniture!" section. But the benches aren't very well placed, and there's nowhere to sit, in between.
Furthermore, the meandering, forced path through all your display areas might be fine for young, skinny, athletic yuppies to navigate, but for older folks like myself, with mobility issues? Oh, just fuck you, IKEA. Sideways. With a cactus. And no lube.
Even your "shortcuts" aren't particularly short. Marketing might deem your forced march (in which the customer keeps believing he's finally nearing the end of the nightmare, only to find that...surprise! there's suddenly another entire department, or warehouse, or hangar-sized checkout area that's suddenly appeared ahead) the best idea since someone rubbed two sticks together, but Marketing's apparently never had difficulty walking, or had to deal with excruciating back pain before. Or maybe they just don't think it's important to care about gimps. Because, after all, how much do we really contribute to your bottom line?
And, of course, trying to escape from you, IKEA, because, say, my back is screaming, and if I don't get out and to the car dammed soon, I'm not going to be able to walk at all, is a nightmare in itself. It's apparently inconceivable that someone might want to leave your store without buying anything, so everything funnels through the register stands. I wound-up having to push past a woman in a wheelchair, excusing myself constantly, through clenched teeth, as I could barely speak because of the pain. And then, of course, the checkout area exits to the loading dock, so there's a trek halfway across the parking lot, to get to the handicapped parking, where the car's waiting.
IKEA, I won't be back. I'd love to spend some major time in your store, especially in the kitchen section. I could easily drop a grand there, in an afternoon. But I won't be there because I can't stand the physical pain that visiting your store puts me through. Seriously: A direct, real, shortcut through the building for folks who have trouble walking. A few more places to sit — like, say, one in each department? And a way to get back out the front door, again for people who have trouble walking? You'd be golden. Even with those interminable hard, concrete floors.
I realize that mobility-impaired folks aren't trendy, and I'm not so young, nor so chic as you'd like your target audience to be. But dammit, IKEA, this is bullshit, and with your reputation for both brilliant use of space, not to mention your much vaunted efficiency, you should be doing better. And I shouldn't be unable to walk for six hours after I get home from bailing on a trip to your store because I just. Can't. Stand. The. Pain. Anymore.
IKEA, I'm not in a wheelchair, so I understand you might not've noticed I'm mobility impaired. I walk with a cane, which is easily overlookable. But IKEA, one of my major problems is stenosis in my lower back, and I gotta tell you: You don't make it easy to visit your store. In fact, after the hellish amount of pain I experienced today, I won't be back. And that's a pity, IKEA, because I could become a very good, very regular customer.
First of all, those shiny, hard concrete floors? Yeah. Those. They make it hard for folks like me to spend any length of time on their feet in your store. And yeah, you have a couple of little benches outside your "OMG try all the furniture!" section. But the benches aren't very well placed, and there's nowhere to sit, in between.
Furthermore, the meandering, forced path through all your display areas might be fine for young, skinny, athletic yuppies to navigate, but for older folks like myself, with mobility issues? Oh, just fuck you, IKEA. Sideways. With a cactus. And no lube.
Even your "shortcuts" aren't particularly short. Marketing might deem your forced march (in which the customer keeps believing he's finally nearing the end of the nightmare, only to find that...surprise! there's suddenly another entire department, or warehouse, or hangar-sized checkout area that's suddenly appeared ahead) the best idea since someone rubbed two sticks together, but Marketing's apparently never had difficulty walking, or had to deal with excruciating back pain before. Or maybe they just don't think it's important to care about gimps. Because, after all, how much do we really contribute to your bottom line?
And, of course, trying to escape from you, IKEA, because, say, my back is screaming, and if I don't get out and to the car dammed soon, I'm not going to be able to walk at all, is a nightmare in itself. It's apparently inconceivable that someone might want to leave your store without buying anything, so everything funnels through the register stands. I wound-up having to push past a woman in a wheelchair, excusing myself constantly, through clenched teeth, as I could barely speak because of the pain. And then, of course, the checkout area exits to the loading dock, so there's a trek halfway across the parking lot, to get to the handicapped parking, where the car's waiting.
IKEA, I won't be back. I'd love to spend some major time in your store, especially in the kitchen section. I could easily drop a grand there, in an afternoon. But I won't be there because I can't stand the physical pain that visiting your store puts me through. Seriously: A direct, real, shortcut through the building for folks who have trouble walking. A few more places to sit — like, say, one in each department? And a way to get back out the front door, again for people who have trouble walking? You'd be golden. Even with those interminable hard, concrete floors.
I realize that mobility-impaired folks aren't trendy, and I'm not so young, nor so chic as you'd like your target audience to be. But dammit, IKEA, this is bullshit, and with your reputation for both brilliant use of space, not to mention your much vaunted efficiency, you should be doing better. And I shouldn't be unable to walk for six hours after I get home from bailing on a trip to your store because I just. Can't. Stand. The. Pain. Anymore.
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I had a very similar experience the other week, except I forgot to bring my cane to indicate my crip status. partner encouraged me to use one of their store wheelchairs as I have a tendency to fall over if I walk too much. However, not only did they not have a motorized chair that even Wal-Mart can manage (honestly I'm guessing the charge wouldn't last through the store), you had to check the wheelchairs out from the info desk. Where there wasn't a person to do that thing. Briefly considered breaking into the wheelchair area to get a wheelchair so I could go to their store, or at least asking partner to, but then decided to save spoons for actual store. Where, as a matter of fact, a number of cut-throughs were blocked by carts. THANK YOU FUCKERS. I was going to buy something but ended up putting it back (or rather, leaving it for a poor retail schmuck to find and reshelve) because by the time we found the exit I was doing my shuffle-stumble that makes people give me funny looks. It is the prelude to full-out falling on the ground.
So yeah, from now on I'm sending an IKEA delegate to buy things for me if I need anything because fuck that place.
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—
When I am Queen of the Universe I shall decree that every retail establishment with more than 10,000 square feet establish an ongoing relationship with durable medical equipment suppliers. No insurance company will pay for used equipment. DME folks often get wheelchairs, rollators, canes back when the insured passes on. In my world, the stores pay a monthly fee for the DME suppliers to maintain a steady supply of user-quality mobility devices. (The ones stores have now are absolute bottom-of-the-line, super-uncomfortable, super-unergonomic.) Everybody wins, and potential customers will have a chance to test-drive the equipment and learn what they want.
—
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Even back then though, I remember I used to just stop and sit on chairs; arm chairs, dining chairs, stools, poofs, beds. And when I was younger, my mother didn't care for 'meandering through the store'. She made a beeline for what she wanted, checked she had the name right, then it was down to the warehouse.
Now years later, I wonder if the whole process gave her mental fatigue too - all those people.
It sucks to hear, years on, they haven't gotten a clue. That they can put a wheelchair user in the catalog, but not consider accessibiliy within the store.
They'll, apparently do 'save this dog' programs w/ life size blowups of shelter animals. But 'spare our customers pain'? Not so much.
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I respectfully request, however, that you don't use violent rape imagery. Thanks.
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I dislike how they even minimise the seating in the snack bar - if you're going for a sit-down meal it's different, but the fast foody bit mostly has tables you stand at. Which I assume cuts down on their overhead and keeps the food cheap, but I'd love to have even a bar to lean against or something!
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