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Luckily, my daughter had no classes today. We decided for a mall that provides wheelchair service, as Granny would need it for the long stroll.

I remember last July Granny’s grand-daughter celebrated her birthday party in Shakey’s at the Robinson’s Galleria; and she was provided with a wheelchair! That’s it! So off we went to Robinson’s Galleria, Granny, my mom, my daughter and I. Coming from the labyrinthine level parking beneath Robinson’s Galleria’s structure, we entered the yellow lobby for the escalator leading to the mall upstairs.

I asked the security guard where we could request for wheelchair service. The guard instantly said the mall does not provide that service. I cut back by telling him that we were in the same mall last July at a party and the mall provided a wheelchair to the same person who was to use it this time. The guard kept blubbering that the mall does not provide any wheelchairs.

“I will have to go the admin office to ask them myself and to inform them that you (I mentioned his name while looking on his nameplate) won’t provide us a wheelchair when last July we used one,” I said.

I saw that shock on his face. He decided to call on someone in a barong-looking shirt, who was just about two steps away from us, and I took the liberty to relate to him the fix we were in. He simply repeated what the previous guard told me, that there was no wheelchair available. I snapped back at him and told him not to lie for we used one last July that the mall graciously provided.

We were at the foot of the escalator, so everyone who passed by heard that sound bite and started looking over at us.

The well-dressed guard (I got his name, too, from his nameplate) raised a hand with a radio, placed it near his mouth and started talking to someone at the other end. Then he turned to me and said that the wheelchair at the security service office is used for emergency purposes only.

I told him that if my aunt would walk ten steps, they would definitely find themselves in an emergency situation. Do you have to wait for that or prevent it from happening? I asked. He was shaking his head when we climbed up the escalator. Then he asked, “Is she a patient (referring to my aunt)? Considering her medical condition, I replied, yes, she is!

When we were at the mall level, a guy in a beret walked towards the well-dressed guard. He gave him instructions to bring in a wheelchair. The bereted guy left to get one. When he arrived, he set the wheelchair and helped my aunt settle in. The bereted guy then took charge directing us towards the mall clinic. I told him he could leave the wheelchair with us as we have to still go around the mall.

This is where more complications set in. The bereted guy said that the wheelchair could be used only for emergency situations and that my aunt could not use it going around the mall. “How then was she able to get a wheelchair last July, which according to my aunt, the mall provided, and could not use one now?”

To cut the chase, we proceeded to the mall clinic which was deep down the parking level. At around 4:30 pm we were inside the clinic and the lady doctor kindly received us. I told her our need — we were requesting for a wheelchair. She maintained the stand that the wheelchair is for emergency purposes only. That’s why we were requesting. I said my aunt was able to use one last July without going through this much trouble; but, nonetheless, an emergency would arise if she won’t be on a wheelchair.

My aunt spoke up and told the doctor, shopping around the Mall of Asia or Shangri-La Crossings (Edsa) did not have this kind of hassle. Those malls provide wheelchairs right away.

After a few minutes of contemplation, the polite doctor instructed the bereted guy to tell his security office to provide the wheelchair to us and that if some crisis would arise later, they could call the clinic and the clinic would provide another wheelchair for that task. The bereted guy told the doctor that he has to return to his office with the wheelchair and that the doctor had to talk to their security chief to make arrangements for that. Before the bereted guy could leave, the doctor told him that it is evident we needed the wheelchair as we will have to shop around. “Tell security to provide the wheelchair; it is okay,” said the lady doctor to the bereted guy who was already going out of the door.

While waiting for the wheelchair from the security office, the lady doctor talked to my aunt, asked about her condition and everything to pass time. No wheelchair arrived. The lady doctor sent us to the security office to claim the wheelchair and told us that everything would be all right. We just have to leave our ID with the security.

At the security office, the situation got even more unpleasant. The lady chief glared at us as she explained that the wheelchair was for urgent situations only. I told her the lady doctor already approved of our request, there was no point going through the entire process again. She stood up and, like a warning, told me she had to talk to someone above her about the matter. She went into an inner room, not wanting her conversation with whoever was above her be heard by us. When she came out, the person she called probably approved our request without even seeing us or who will use a wheelchair for she called someone through her radio to bring out a wheelchair they had in their stockroom.

It was only then that a wheelchair was prepared. She also made it clear that it must be the old, squeaky one.

She made me pen my name on sheet of paper, including where my car was parked and its plate number. (I did not get her name, though, for I did not want any more of her unpleasant attitude; but my smart phone got her photo.) Before we could leave, she had to remind us that that old, squeaky wheelchair would be of use when a crisis erupts. She does not want us to be too comfortable about my aunt’s use of it.

When we emerged from the security office, another guard, in short pants, was unfolding the old, squeaky wheelchair. He was kind enough to explain to us how to get around the squeakiness and if it gets stuck, how to fix it.

From this guard’s radio fastened on his waistband, I heard the lady chief’s voice instructing all units to keep an eye on the car with what I heard was my plate number on it. She added: Hindi ‘yan basta-basta makakalabas dito!