More than a talking dog

In spite of all the changes that have led to the gradual emancipation of people with disabilities over the past few decades, and the changes in attitudes in society that have accompanied our increasing visibility, I'm sometimes reminded that there are people and institutions in every community who still harbour, at the least prejudice, and at the most fear and hatred, for people who look or act differently - even if the only difference is that I use a wheelchair.

I was trying to buy another new kettle in the local supermarket (mine seem to have a tendency to fail every six months, for no apparent reason).

I found a model that I liked, but I couldn't see a packaged version, so I asked my PA to take the display model to the customer services desk.

In these situations, my PAs know that their role is to be my arms and legs, and to let me do the talking. To avoid confusion, they often don't even make eye contact with sales assistants.

"I'd like to buy this kettle, but I can only find this display model. Do you have any in stock?" I asked the woman behind the desk.

"I'm sorry madam" - my PA that day was also a woman, and the sales assistant looked into her eyes as she was speaking - "all the stock we have is on the shelves."

"Hello?" I bounced up and down in my chair as much as I could, to attract her attention. "It's me who's trying to buy the kettle, not my assistant. If you have no others, can I buy this display model?" Her eyes briefly flickered down to my face. She turned to my PA again.

"Sorry," she said to my PA, who was deliberately looking in the other direction, "we have removed the packaging and documentation, which means we can't sell display models".

"It still me who's trying to buy a kettle," I said loudly, in case she'd forgotten. "In that case, do you have anything similar?"

Once again, she talked to my PA. "All our stock is on the shelves."

At this point, I gave up, and stormed off. "Is it me, or was that woman just incredibly rude?" I asked my PA.

I've called it the Talking Dog Syndrome: some people are so amazed that I can actually talk that they completely ignore what I'm trying to say.

Simon Heng is a wheelchair user and involved in service user groups