Loose lips sink ships.

Thought of the day: We have collectively decided that screen addiction leads to brain rot. But, how come audio addiction is not a concern? I’ve met individuals who always seem to be tuned out, no matter the activity: driving, cycling, or even hiking. Evidently, there are people with the desire to drown out the horrible sounds of nature. 

“Ugh! The birds always sing off-key, and squirrels have no rhythm. And, that babbling brook won’t SHUT UP.”

I don’t have that option. My deafness has robbed me of the joy of having Taylor Swift accompany me on my walks in nature. For this reason–among other less comical reasons–I am eligible for several subsidies. Among those is a card that grants me a 50% discount on the standard passenger fare for BC Ferries. These savings amount to between $7 and $12 each time I take the ferry, unless I get hungry and blow said savings on a stale Bread Garden cinnamon knot from the ferry cafeteria.

For 30 years, I’ve used the same card: a piece of cardstock with the BC Ferries logo, my name, my address (from the mid 90s), and my signature from when I was 10 years old and therefore still had the energy to get through my long name in cursive. Although I’ve kept the card in a plastic sleeve since the beginning, it has yellowed and begun to disintegrate along the edges.

From what I understand, BC Ferries changed the design 15+ years ago, and it is now a plastic card that includes an ID photo. Even so, the majority of ticket agents want nothing more than to keep the line moving and honour the discount based on my papery relic.

However, if I’m early and the only one in the line-up, it’s a crapshoot. Twice now, I’ve had the same ticket agent give me a print out of the application for the current Accessible Fare Identification (AFI) card. She was kind, so I couldn’t even be mad about it. The second time I encountered this agent, I lied and said I’d mailed my application a few weeks ago.

Well, now I’m trying to catch up to that lie and get my new card before our paths cross once again.

I dropped by the Walton Boutique yesterday afternoon to get a photo taken to submit with my application for the new AFI card. I brought the form along, as it lists the photo requirements, eg. the face and shoulders must be centered in the photo and squared to the camera, eyes must be open and clearly visible, and the photo size should be 3 x 3.5cm.

The Walton Boutique passport photo service is located in the store’s Entertainment section. I had major doubts that I was about to be entertained. I showed the person tending the Entertainment department counter my phone, on which I’d typed my request to have my picture taken for an ID and produced the AFI application form. At first, they had trouble making the connection that my deafness was the disability that entitled me to the discount I was applying for. I had to urge them to write their response.

20 years ago, the chances things would get even more chaotic were 50/50 as people would scramble to find paper to write on, purge a few inches of receipt paper from the printer, only to realize that ballpoint pens don’t work on thermal paper. Now, we all have smartphones.

But not all of us have the brains to use one.

The Entertainment department person pulled out their phone and tapped their response in… WhatsApp. When they turned their phone screen toward me, I found myself looking at an ongoing WhatsApp conversation in another language (Tagalog, maybe?). The message meant for me was in the input field. Innovative yet awkward.

That was a new experience for me. And for them, obviously. My request for a photo ID that wasn’t meant for a Canadian passport was apparently a Walton Boutique first. You’d think I asked for a hologram because, within a few minutes, three more people in blue vests–including the department manager– showed up at the counter.

If two heads are better than one, I was prepared to be blown away by the brainpower of four people.

I opened the auto transcriber app and “eavesdropped” on their gibbering. Between the four of them, none seemed to have any idea how to meet the 3 x 3.5 cm size requirement.

Five minutes later, the brainstorming session concluded and the result was presented to me via the WhatsApp input field:

“I’m sorry, we don’t do BC Ferries photo IDs. Thank you for your patience.”

Really? REALLY?

I settled for a slightly less bitchy response:

“What’s complicated about taking a passport picture, printing it out, and just trimming it to size?”

The irony of this is how the criteria for qualifying for the AFI card states that the applicant “has a disability that impedes this person’s normal daily activities that is expected to continue for more than two years e.g. preparation, serving and eating of meals, mobility, managing personal affairs, etc.

I swear my disability has enhanced my problem-solving skills. I may not need help with eating, mobility, or managing personal affairs, but my disability sure as shit has me navigate some major challenges, namely:

• Inaccessibility.
• People.

I dared to ask whether my photo could be printed in black and white.

Haha, no. No, they do not have the technology to convert colour photos into black and white. They were, however, able to crank up the saturation. In the photo, I look disillusioned AND jaundiced.

The final hurdle for my so-called photographer was deciding on which SKU to use. If I were them, I’d have chosen the cheapest option to compensate for the rigamarole I’d just put the customer through. But, no, the department manager had to be summoned again.

I was right: it was the one for the passport photo. It’s a shame my hearing loss disqualifies me from so many well-paying jobs, because I’m practically a wizard.

I paid $20 for a shitty picture, and I was not entertained in the least.

But I hope you were!