Exceptional are those who stood in line

I have worked with people having an intellectual disability, and been to a Social Role Valorization workshop in 2019 that speaks about the undervalued role people with intellectual disability sometimes experience. Something unfolded while I waited on a hot sunny September afternoon outside Service Ontario in Brampton’s Gateway location to change my health card and licence. 

This experience spoke to me about both: a person with this kind of disability and an exceptional Canadian, an employee with Service Ontario. As I stood in the outside queue (a Covid 19 procedure in reopening Service Ontario and any retail place in Ontario now), a young adult man arrived alone about a half hour into my wait. It was around 3:30 pm and the queue closed at 4 pm to process people by their 5 pm closing. The man was distressed by his body language and voice volume. He did not understand the social expectations for waiting your turn in total, but enough that he was able to navigate his way to the front of line.

Outside, a half hour wait now midway back in line, I watched the man come from the back to the front lineup, getting consent as he progressed by asking those in front of him ‘could he go ahead of them.’ Everyone let him pass. We are becoming kinder to others. 

A security guard responded, as this man was agitated and moving around at the front entrance, by calling for a manager to assist. The man was in constant movement and repeated in a loud voice over and over again, “could he be next, and was he next?”

It is not unusual for some people with intellectual disabilities to speak loudly. I attended Special Olympics events prior to the pandemic with the woman I worked with over three years. When excited, or telling a story, she spoke loudly, unaware that it was possibly uncomfortable in social places. Others with this disability do the same. Talk loud. 

A manager (I thought) came to the door, assessing the situation by asking questions. She responded, and continued to question. The employee used a respectful voice, assuring the client he would be helped. He calmed down. Because he spoke loud, I could hear he needed a health card for one he lost, and yes, he was alone.  

When I was inside the building it was nearing 4 pm when they took their last client. It turned out in their entry process, the ‘manager’ was the employee with the first step to process the queue. At the same time she was helping me and asking questions, another employee was helping the man at her window and came to my entrance server to ask if there was water, as he was asking for it. Yes my server had water, and would get it from the back when finished. She got him water. 

While I waited inside now, in sparsely social-spaced seats for my turn, the ‘manager’ came over to the client and stood beside him, talking with him, as he was being helped at his window counter. This small human step was good for his needs. She made eye contact with me and smiled making her way back to her desk for the next client. Giving attention to people is a gift and a skill. She has both.

I could hear the man had finished his transaction, and saw him take his papers and fold them, while I sat waiting. It was what he said next that hit me. He had come the day before by bus. He could not get inside when he arrived at 4 pm. It was closed for the queue. This was the next day, and he arrived about 3:45 pm. I understood why he wanted to go ahead outside. I saw the line around the building when I left, and those more likely who had that let him pass, and may not get in that day themselves. 

I was moved by this special moment. When I think about social role valorization, a life long study by Dr Wolf Wolfensberger and social policy in Canada, I think I saw it work that day. I wrote to the online Service Ontario site to mark this moment in others' lives. The employee was given a letter for demonstrating service excellence. A letter goes a long way in these pandemic days, for modeling how to work with an adult with an intellectual disability. And for those in line, who did not know who passed you with your permission that September day, this letter for you. 

The man has an autonomous life, and was helped respectfully and equally in his community: questions, understanding and awareness about someone having a special need. He may have been behind in his medication, and was actively engaged in fixing his own problem. 

Kathie Vanular