Another form of discrimination?

My buddy Bryan so kindly agreed to bring me to Target yesterday.  I still get tired easily and can only go shopping in one store at a time.  When we got into Target I had the great idea of using one of those motorized shopping carts! (Bryan kept calling it a rascal, but I know that's not the correct name) that way I could sit while Bryan perused the underwear aisle. I began my journey by first asking the girl behind the service desk if I could use one of the rascals (i'm also going to call it that).  She gave us a "yup", so I sat down.  All three of the rascals were blinking, which indicated they needed assistance.  I again approached the girl behind the service desk; turns out I just needed to unplug them from the outlet they were plugged into. DUH.

           

As I began driving, I learned that the rascals traveled at walking speed and they were a bit difficult to get around the tightly placed racks in Target. We traveled around the store, giggling every time my back wheel got stuck on a display, or I misjudged and ran directly into a rack. We managed to make it around the entire store only causing minimal damage to the rascal and to the displays in the store.  

The last section we were shopping in was the girls clothes section.  The racks were placed most tightly and there were clothes and hangers all over the floor, making it the most difficult to bring the rascal.  I stood up and told Bryan to sit in the rascal while I quickly shopped around.  As he attempted to follow me, he ran headfirst directly into two racks that an employee just happened to be working on.  We of course began to giggle again.  Just because you're disabled doesn't mean you can't laugh...right? 

          

Apparently so, because the employee took it upon herself to ask us if we really needed the rascal.  I turned around, showed her the scar on my chest informing her that I just had surgery.  I also told her that it she shouldn't ask people that and that it was none of business.  Then I immediately started crying, unexpectedly.  She felt awful and kept apologizing and telling me to sit down and that she would shop for me.  But it was too late.  I was pissed off, and worse- I was crying publicly.  I continued shopping as stopped myself from crying.  I picked out a shirt that Bryan approved of and we left the womens' section.  On our way out the employee tried to say one more thing to me.  I ignored her, but Bryan acknowledged her and muttered a "thank you, she's all set".  

         

 We didn't complain to a manager, although we probably should have.  I just wanted to leave the store as quickly as possible.  That employee saw two young, healthy adults laughing and using a rascal.  Unfortunately, she couldn't see my swollen feet, or experience the pain I feel in my right arm or see the huge scar on my chest. I have an invisible illness, and I wish people would think twice before opening their mouths. 

XoXo,

jullz