Steven Weissman

I was at an upscale grocery store with my disabled adult daughter. We move slowly, but we managed to get through the store without too much trouble. I got up to the counter with my $7 worth of groceries and noticed that the woman in front of me in line was chatting with the cashier and glancing back at me. When I got up to the counter, the cashier burst out for all to hear that the woman had decided to pay for my groceries. Like I had just won the lottery or some shit. Suddenly, every eye in the store was on us, a small tear in each one. As we tried to duck out in our humiliation, the cashier ran to catch me to give me $3 change. Here's the thing: Sometimes we just want to get through the store; we don't want to be your goddamn after-school special. And it would mean a hell of a lot more to my daughter if you would acknowledge that she is a person rather than just an object of your pity.

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