Difficult Customers

My roles in the mobility industry are varied, and among my most rewarding is that of customer service. Often consumers and providers contact me regarding products my company manufacturers, and sometimes to assist with resolving issues, whether with a user’s chair, a provider’s service, or a pending order.

In dealing with so many people over the years, I’m still surprised when I hear an industry person refer to an in instance involving a “difficult customer,” commonly referring to a boisterous consumer, not-so-politely calling the provider and manufacturer alike. As it may surprise some, however, I can’t say that I’ve ever worked with a truly “difficult customer.” To the contrary, I’ve worked with a lot of phenomenal end-users simply trying to obtain the mobility they need.

And, a lot of them are rightfully frustrated, justly boisterous, and properly put off when we speak. Heck, a few have started out by yelling at me – but, understandably so. I look at it this way: Mobility is as essential to ones life as sustenance; yet, the entire process for some is all but impossible to transcend, all but preventing needed mobility. Too often, the funding process alone can take months, with delay after delay; then, the ordering process can be overwhelmingly stressful, not knowing what product will best meet one’s needs, having to place trust in others; then, the frustration of waiting for delivery; and, then, waiting for repairs when needed. Then, let’s add to the process the reality of everyday life for many with disabilities – health issues, unreliable attendant care, financial worries, transportation issues, and on, and on, and on. What’s more, these issues – and mobility needs – don’t operate on a business schedule, they don’t go away when others aren’t answering phones or shipping deliveries. Put simply, on a Saturday, fathom having a bladder infection, your personal care attendant didn’t show up till noon, you can’t afford to fix the transmission in your van, then add to that having to somehow survive all weekend without a working powerchair.

I could never call anyone facing similar situations a “difficult customer.” However, I certainly can call them real people, deserving absolute attention.

For those dealing with “difficult customers,” I suggest empathizing with the customer’s frustrations rather than taking offense – use understanding as inspiration toward better service. And, to difficult customers,” themselves, I say find those who understand, and reach out to them with the courtesy and dedication to which they serve you.

Two Of The Same

As an adolescent and teenager, I went through a fair number of wheelchairs. On the downside, my need for a new wheelchair almost every school year was fueled out of necessity, where inferior designs simply didn’t withstand my active use, breaking frames, burning through motors, and such. On the upside, I grew up in an era when both power and manual mobility technology was evolving very quickly, where if you wished to use the most liberating technology, you had to get a new wheelchair every two years.

Among my peers, I was fortunate in that I had a small medical trust fund – and, in my teen years, an increasing connection to the wheelchair industry – that provided me the resources to obtain the latest mobility technology. Nevertheless, my good fortune didn’t seem to make selecting new wheelchairs any easier, as I was always haunted by the wheelchair choices that I had to make, where there were always two chairs that so tugged at my passions, but I had to choose just one. There was the decision between the Power and Silent Premiers by E&J, where the Silent had the horizontal motors, with the controller under the seat, giving it the sportiest look around – but I went with the Power Premier because it could be better secured on the school bus. Then, there was choosing between the Fortress 655 and the E&J Explorer, where the Explorer had better marketing, with the brochure showing it on a bed of gravel, looking unstoppable – but I chose the Fortress because it was supposed to have better reliability. And, then, there was the toss between an E&J Power Premier with 21st-Century conversion kit or the original big-wheel Invacare Arrow, which was the fastest production powerchair – I chose the E&J and 21st-Century kit because it was chain drive, and I wanted a chair that rumbled like a motorcycle. And, on the manual side, the decisions were no easier, with choices between Quickie or Quadra; Liberation Concepts or Jerry Smith; Magic in Motion or Top End; Etac or Kuschall? And, so, I built a legacy of mobility decisions – punctuated with pained choices.

Throughout those agonizing decisions, what I didn’t realize was that my difficulty in choosing one mobility product over another ultimately had very little to do with comparing the specifications of two wheelchairs. In actuality, my difficulty in choosing one wheelchair over another came out of my desire for utmost mobility, where the possibilities of every new wheelchair seemed so endless that choosing one surely left some sort of unrealized potential on the table by not choosing the other.

Interestingly, my fears never proved true, where every wheelchair that I chose dramatically increased my mobility, improving my life in big and small ways alike – in that way, my choice was always two of the same.

What I’ve realized is that meaningful mobility doesn’t come from agonized, remorseful decisions. Rather, meaningful mobility stems from the resolute decisions that we make, and living life to the fullest with the wheelchairs that we have.

Constitutional Mobility

Has anyone ever told you how lucky you are to have mobility?  Has anyone ever walked up to you and said, “You know, a lot of people aren’t as lucky as you to have that motorized wheelchair.”  Well, I’ve heard countless forms of the tired adage, “Be grateful for what you have,” and it always irks me, recognizing it as the most socially demeaning forms of patronization toward those with physical disabilities.

I, for one, don’t believe anyone is lucky to have mobility.  What I do believe is that those who go without adequate mobility are deprived of more liberties than most prisoners behind four physical walls.  I believe that the fundamental rights specified in Amendment I of the United States Constitution - rights to various forms of expression - cannot be achieved without adequate mobility.  I believe that an individual’s opportunities to succeed in society - education, employment, healthcare - cannot be fully realized without adequate mobility.  And, I believe that one’s emotional and mental health suffer without adequate mobility.  Point blank, I believe that mobility is as important to one’s existence as every word in the United States Constitution, as every cry for equality among the races and sexes, as every human’s rights law ever signed.

For one to suggest that we should consider ourselves lucky to have mobility goes beyond absurd, into the realm of socially destructive.  Imagine the uprising if, in the U.S., it was determined that only the privileged few of a minority group were allowed out of their homes.  Imagine a white person walking up to a person of a different color, and stating, “You’re lucky to be allowed out of your house.”  It would be offensive, discriminatory, racist, possibly illegal, and entirely offensive; yet, this happens everyday to people whom use wheelchairs, and it’s somehow viewed as acceptable thinking, that it’s alright for us as a group to take a lesser role in society, to have the privilege to participate in society, not the right.  

The question is, what steps do we take to help further promote mobility as an essential right, not a privilege handed to us?  On an interpersonal level, when someone suggests you’re lucky to have a chair, take a moment to tactfully explain to them that a wheelchair isn’t a privilege, it’s a necessity, affording you the ability to pursue life to the fullest, to obtain the same rights they have, that everyone is entitled to such societal liberties.   From a consumer standpoint, vote with your dollars, demand that manufacturers build better, more affordable products, do your homework and buy those that are great in performance while reasonable in price.  And, on the government level, if you are drowning in an insurance undertow of funding cuts, get your Congressman involved, let the leaders of our nation know that your voice is as powerful as any other, that you hold your representatives responsible for upholding your liberties just as they do everyone else’s.  Put simply, take a personal approach to demanding your rights, as most other groups have done to achieve equality.

If one applies the rights of everyone else to those with disabilities, it becomes clear that mobility isn’t a privilege, it’s a right.  And, as with all rights, liberties can only be had when exercised - that is, you have the right in society, and an obligation to yourself, to demand mobility, not plead for it.