A Sign, A Sign, My Kingdom For a Sign

At the risk of seeming an insensitive clod, I want to write about something that struck me in a funny way.  It seemed a bit off to me but it also reminded me of something I saw when I was a teenager but didn't have the courage to write about in my blog back then.  I didn't actually have a blog back then so that seems to be a moot point.  I also didn't have a computer back then so that presents another problem.  And when I wanted a copy of something I wrote, back then, I couldn't right-click copy and paste, I needed to plan ahead and put a piece of carbon paper into the typewriter before I wrote.  I would also have to make sure it was facing the right way or I would just have what I had written backwards on the opposite side of my original, and could only be read with the aid of a mirror.  But I digress...depressingly I might add.

I saw this sign hanging under the "register is open" light at I believe it was number 3 at Safeway in The Hub.  I was in the next lane getting ready to pay for my purchase when my "blog sense" kicked in.  Blog sense is kind of like "Spidey sense" but I don't get to do cool stuff like save subway cars full of people or kiss Sylvia while hanging upside down (in fact, if she thought that I was even partly related to a spider she would have called an exterminator years ago).  But if someone on that subway car is holding a book titled, "The Importance Of A College Education" written by Kim Kardashian, you can bet my blog sense will kick in and I will write about it!

So back to this sign.  I get what it is meant to do.  This is designed to inform people who are visually impaired that this is a register that has no boundaries for them.  Braille keypads come to mind.  Possibly a little wider, for access with the cane.  Maybe it has nothing food related that might tempt a seeing eye dog at seeing at dog level.  The thing that struck me is, a sign?  And I am not talking about a sign that makes noise like the beeps that tell people it's safe to start crossing the street at the intersection with the light.  It just sits there.  And...it does even less than that because apparently the only way to see this 4 inch by 4 inch, partially hidden, sign was to actually be in the lane next to it and already at the register.  I suppose if someone needed assistance because they were visually impaired they could say, "Could someone please tell me which register has the visually impaired sign on it?"  Then after a few minutes of searching a good Samaritan (with keen eyes, a sextant, and "blog sense") could let them know.  Of course in this scenario the clerks at the registers would have to be cruelly silent in order to have the need of a sign.  I'm sure they know which is the register to use. 

I pointed out the incongruity of a sign to indicate the visually impaired register to the clerk and he stopped, thought for a second, and said, "You know you're right.  And nobody has ever pointed that out before."  Welcome to my world sir...and did you also notice that you just rang up Ice cream, candy bars, potato chips, Frosted Flakes, and diet soda for the lady ahead of us?  My blog sense is tingling...or maybe I forgot to take my phone off of vibrate.  I then told this clerk about the sign I had seen as a teenager, at the public library.  Apparently I think that the clerks at Safeway have all the time in the world and are interested in hearing stories from their customers.

Back when the Internet was called, "The Library" and to "surf" it you needed to wait until they were open and get a ride from your mom.  It was not permissible to "surf" in your underwear. (not saying that is what I am doing now...or am I?)  And horny little weirdos could still look for naked stuff, but you had to go to the National Geographic section...and have a thing for pygmies.  ANYWAY, once, when my mom dropped me off and I was doing a research paper for some class, (with plenty of time to spare...and my mom wasn't exasperated because, "You always wait until the last minute to tell me that you need to write a research paper") I looked over toward the reference books and I saw it.  "It" was a hand-made sign.  It said, "Braille Books Here."  That may have been enough to make me think, "Hmm, that is curious."  But this sign had three extra features that made me wonder what the heck was going on.  On this hand-made sign, that indicated where the Braille books were, there were three of the tiniest arrows that I have ever seen...on a sign that talked about books for the blind.  They all pointed straight down. 

It was as if someone said, "These books are for blind people.  They won't notice the sign.  I better put a little something extra on it.  One arrow.  That won't do.  Two arrows.  Maybe.  Three arrows.  That's the stuff!  I feel good about myself for being a useful member of society...unlike people who will write blogs on their computers...in the future...in their underwear."

In my youthful shyness I didn't ask about the incongruity of arrows and Braille so, alas, we will never know what the creator of the sign was thinking.  Again, like the register in the store, it would be a very useful tool for others to help the visually impaired...but arrows?  Really?

So that is the end of my tale.  The poor clerk had to shut down his lane and the people behind me had to be scooted over to other registers.  The ones where people know the rule of shopping conversation...The answer to, "Did you find everything?" is "Uh huh" and "How are you today?" is "Fine."  I sat there and finished my odd tale.  I was there so long that my ice cream melted all over my frosted flakes and potato chips...but that's OK, I drowned my sorrows in candy bars and diet soda.