Accessibility depends on staff attitudes as well as ramps and wide doorways – Jonny Wilkinson

Good customer service is not special treatment, it is practical solutions that recognise disabled people are customers too, with money to spend. Photo / 123rf

When this column is published, it will be election day and columnists are banned from writing anything vaguely political on that day, so I’ll have to choose a somewhat frivolous topic. Fortunately, my latest online purchase provided the inspiration.

My iPad case had seen better days. It was decrepit, grotty and looking like something recovered from an archaeological dig. Clearly, it was time for an upgrade.

So, I ventured online and found what I thought was a rather suave replacement. Something understated, sophisticated and befitting a gentleman of my advancing years.

What arrived was something entirely different.

A pastel-coloured creation that looked as though it had escaped from the My Little Pony merchandise department. My iPad now looks like it belongs to a 6-year-old with a passion for unicorns and rainbows.

Such are the perils of online shopping.

Of course, I’ve had some spectacular successes. Take my denim blazer, for example. An online purchase that elevated my wardrobe into the sophisticated world of double denim. A fashion statement requiring swagger and considerable confidence.

I like to think I carry it off with the effortless cool of a rock star. I’m sure others may think I’ve wandered off the set of an early Brad Pitt movie.

Then there were the shoes from Temu.

They looked magnificent online. Stylish, affordable and apparently just what my wardrobe needed.

Unfortunately, when they arrived, they appeared to be constructed entirely from plastic. Not just the soles, but seemingly every last molecule.

My wife took one look and promptly hurled them into the rubbish bin. There was no discussion, no appeal process and certainly no opportunity for a refund. Fashion justice was swift and merciless.

Which brings me to the advantages of shopping locally.

Unlike the online lottery, a good local retailer offers something invaluable: personal service. And for disabled shoppers, that service can make all the difference.

Take Waipu Liquor, which provides me with an excellent hybrid of online convenience and good old fashioned customer service.

I place my click-and-collect order online, drive to Waipu, park outside and call.

Without hesitation, they cheerfully bring my order out to the car. No fuss, no complications and no need to negotiate the shop itself.

Then there’s the Noodle Canteen near my workplace. When I order my fried rice and arrive on my mobility scooter, the staff automatically place it in the basket in front of my seat. They know the routine, and it happens without me having to ask.

Mind you, when I phone my order through, I’m convinced they understand me better if I adopt a slight Chinese accent.

Whether this improves communication or merely provides entertainment at their end of the phone remains a mystery.

But these examples illustrate something important about accessibility.

It’s not just about ramps, wide doorways or accessible toilets, although those are essential.

It’s also about attitude.

A business can have all the accessibility features imaginable, but if its staff treat disabled customers as an inconvenience, the experience can quickly turn sour.

Conversely, a business with physical access limitations can still make a tremendous difference through flexibility, initiative and a genuinely welcoming approach.

Neither the Waipu wholesalers nor the Noodle Canteen make a song and dance about accommodating me. They simply get on with it.

That’s what good customer service looks like. Not special treatment, just practical solutions that recognise disabled people are customers too, with money to spend and occasionally questionable fashion choices.

As for my My Little Pony iPad case, I’m keeping it. After all, there’s nothing wrong with a little colour in one’s life.