The Invisible and Expendable Grey-Hairs

For a long time, I have colored my hair because I wanted to look professional every day. But that changed a year ago when MS knocked at my door and the fourth neurologist consulted said that it is better not to add any more chemicals to my skin. Was that good advice? If you consider all the toxic MS drugs that can cause so much more harm than a hair dye on the scalp, the hair coloring interdiction was a bit over the top.

It took about five months for my natural hair color to express itself, free from previous years of dyeing it, and, wouldn't you know, it is snow white in the front and salt and pepper in the back, my least favorite colors.

Suddenly, I became invisible and expendable everywhere. A lone gentleman would open a door for me instead of slamming it in my face or stepping on my toes. And on Mother’s Day a rose was offered “for grandma.” I happen to be a proud grandma, but there is no sign that I am one other than my grey hair.

I became the invisible and expendable white-haired senior on top of having to adjust to my new disabled state when walking short distances and balance are precious commodities. Was it easy to adjust to this unwanted category?

In America, unlike other cultures who respect, praise, and care for their elders, senectitude is considered bad and the old, in most families, are thrown into nursing homes, never to be seen or heard from as long as the hefty bills are paid up.

Living in northern Virginia (NOVA) with a physical handicap and being old and grey-haired adds another layer of problems.

There are classes of bureaucrats and of foreigners from various countries, here legally and illegally, who follow their traditions from the culture they left behind where well-paid employment and generous welfare were not available.

The foreign workers treat their own elders with respect, but they abuse American seniors because they are the people they dislike. I have watched them over eight years, several times a week, abuse sick and elderly American patients in nursing homes.

Shopping in northern Virginia brings more evidence of foreign employees ignoring elderly Americans who often dislike shopping online. The associates are mostly foreign and help their own in whatever language they speak and ignore Americans waiting patiently in line.

Restaurant service in NOVA also ignores seniors waiting to be seated and gives preference to groups who do not speak English and are chatting in their native tongue.

Grocery shopping in NOVA has been a better experience since I have used Wegmans exclusively for eighteen years. They pride themselves with their “impeccable” service. Wegman is a private company with 110 stores in the northeast and $3-4 billion in revenue. They own buildings and parking areas.

Crime has been low at Wegmans except for the occasional grocery thief arrested by police or the bumper scrapes in the parking lot. But all went awry yesterday with my simple mistake.

I went inside for a 30-minute shopping with my grocery list in hand. I paid for my two bags of groceries and my two gallons of tea and left; except my car was no longer where I left it, a black SUV without a handicap sticker was parked in the spot.

Thinking that I did not remember well where I parked, I scanned all the possible places; it donned on me that I forgot to hang the handicap sticker, I left it behind the visor. Surely, they did not tow my SUV, I thought.

I went inside and talked to the assistant manager and the asset protection guy who had a bank of computer screens attached to the numerous cameras in the store and in the parking lot and asked them if they had my SUV towed. The answer was no, they did not, the towing company just randomly drives around all day to catch people like me.

I did not believe that, when gas is $4.50/gallon, a towing company would waste gas driving around. The store had called the tow truck and because their location was only 1.8 miles from the store, he was able to tow my vehicle in record time.

It was 96 degrees Fahrenheit, the hottest day so far, with a heat index, and here I was in the infernal heat and humidity, a grey-haired senior with MS, waiting for an Uber to arrive so I can retrieve my SUV.

After paying the towing company $210, and the Uber driver for the $13 ride (1.8 miles), I got my SUV and showed the tow truck driver my handicap placard behind the visor.

In my seventh decade on this earth, I got another lesson in being old and grey-haired. No matter how many times one shops weekly in the same store, the elderly are invisible and we get fully punished for being forgetful.

I asked the assistant manager at Wegmans why they did not make a PSA like, ‘the driver of such and such vehicle, your SUV is being towed.’  Crickets.

Wegmans made so many PSAs ad nauseam during Covid – ‘stand in line, wear your mask, enter and exit the right door, stay 3-6 feet apart, follow the designated yellow line on each row,’ etc.

I returned the groceries; the asset protection guy felt sorry for me and offered water, and then both employees disappeared to their office. I will never shop again at Wegmans because their touted service failed miserably to protect old and disabled people like me.