At the moment, I'm working for a Fortune 100 company. In case you aren't familiar, these are companies with tens of thousands of employees working for them. Because they are so big, they often draw public scrutiny.
This company, due to its type of business, is very, very careful about proclaiming its diversity. And it's true that there are a number of people who come from ethnically diverse heritage. But despite the number of disabled parking spaces in front of the building, I've yet to see one wheeler or even one person on a crutch or even with a limp from a heel blister.
In this particular assignment, I'm being very careful not to mention or even vaguely hint at my age. There are few people at the company who have reached my age of decrepitude. (However - go figure - all the executives are white men in their 50s and 60s.)
Although I've already learned it would be in vain to hope for a permanent slot there, I still don't want to completely discount the possibility.
I've worn glasses since I was in the second grade. My prescription is something like 20/400, 20/450. In other words, what a person with good vision can see 450 feet away, I have to be 20 feet away to catch a glimpse of it. No need to blindsim. I can just take off my glasses.
Yesterday, one of the strapping young men came over into my cubicle for something. He caught sight of the monitor attached to my laptop.
"Whoa! Those are some f*ing big fonts! Those icons are huge! Why do you have everything so big? You must be blind as -"
I turned around. I gave him what my ex-husband called The Look.
Stunned by my mighty power, Mr. Sensitivity backed away in silence.
The whole thing made me uneasy.
Come to think of it, I haven't seen any blind folk with their white canes in the building either.
All talk. No action. And not much in the way of sensitivity, either.
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