Last time I talked about how I was invited along to the corporate Meijer offices with Autism Support of Kent County. To prepare, I went to my local supermarket and trawled through the place, evaluating it for sensory-friendliness, and put together a short presentation of what I found.
Last week I went over about half the presentation, including the various issues and curiosities with the lights in the store, as well as the pitfalls of smell. Today I'll finish up with the sounds I encountered in the store, as well as store policies and ideas for changes.
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Like smell, sound is a facet of the senses that's best kept very simple and minimal while shopping. The fewer noises, the better. I was surprised as heck that the store's music was actually set quite low, making it quite sensory-friendly. Normally that's the first offender in every store and restaurant I set foot in. They did somewhat make up for this bit of friendliness by having periodic ads interrupt the music, which is both sensory-unfriendly and highly obnoxious. Still, that was maybe every 5-10 minutes, not constantly.
Speaking of ads, there were many. The PA system was just the start. The shoe section had a massive TV screen with an ad for a shoe brand, complete with flashing pictures and sound. Ew. There were a couple smaller, tablet-sized ads in the alcohol section, though I couldn't say for sure they had noise or not.
By far the most painful sound I encountered was the mobility devices' backup noises. Essentially high pitched shrieks, they grated on my ears like nails on a chalkboard, only louder. I don't begrudge people use of the devices, but I deeply wish the devices didn't sound like construction equipment when backing up.
I was, however, rather pleased at how most of the store's other operational sounds, like the sound of an item being scanned, the overhead fans, and even the theft alarm, were almost muted and polite. I recall, growing up, when barcode scanners hurt my ears. They emitted a high pitched "sckreek!" sound for each item. The ones at this store were several octaves lower. Not perfectly painless, but much better than it could be. The theft alarm makes a "boop boop boop" sound when triggered, roughly around middle C on a piano keyboard. So quite tolerable, while still being alarming if it goes off near you.
I wasn't as thrilled with the talking self-checkouts. If the aim is to reduce the amount of noise-clutter, having a half-dozen registers speaking near-simultaneously is... not great. I also happened upon what I assume is a malfunctioning piece of refrigeration equipment in the vegetable section, which made a high pitched whine I could pick out from several aisles over.
The fun bit about this section is that Meijer actually already has a lot of good policies in place already, just in the course of trying to make the shopping experience optimal. The key here is predictability. Meijer already labels their departments in absolutely massive lettering and abundant signage, and the stores themselves tend to be organized similarly. Two main entrances, one side leading to the food, the other to the non-food.
The exact placement of the departments can vary somewhat by the store, but between the aforementioned signage and the general rule of "food on one side, clothes in the middle, everything else on the other side" you can usually get where you're going fairly quickly.
The one exception to the excellent labeling is the fruits and vegetables department, which is so utterly lacking in signage I just kind of sat and stared for a minute. I have no idea why that's the case. When I brought it up at the meeting, the official wasn't sure either, but thought it might have something to do with how often those sections are reorganized. I still think signage could be managed, though.
Other immediate ideas included eliminating the current policy of greeting customers throughout the store. Like Walmart, Meijer has greeters at the entrance. Those are anxiety-provoking enough for someone like me. Making the stockers say hello to me at random just makes me want to melt into the floor and die. This sentiment was echoed by at least one of my autistic adult contacts.
Another thought I suggested was putting together a Social Story. Ideally these are personalized down to the exact store you're going to be going to, but for someplace like Meijer, even a broad-spectrum one would be better than nothing. The idea is to give the child or adult a sense of the place you're going, what to expect there, and what things are expected of them. This doesn't directly address sensory overload, but it could include another thing suggested during the meeting: a sensory map.
The idea of providing a map to a business isn't new. Noting areas that might overload the nose or ears, though, is something I've never seen in a retail setting. Marking off the perfume aisle (smell), the alcohol section (ears-crashing bottles), and the cleaning products aisle (smell again) as potentially harmful areas could make a shopping experience a lot more tolerable, especially for people new to the store, unfamiliar overall, or people with memory problems.
There were two major ideas that were suggested in my various reading materials. The first is the more feasible one, and is already being done in grocery stores in Australia and Britain. It's fairly simple: a major complaint from autistic people is that stores are too loud and overwhelming.
The solution? Turn everything down, for an hour or two every week, or a day or three every month.
Turn off in-store ads and flashing signs, pause cart collection, and turn down the lights. Based on my walkthrough experience, I expanded on this little by also suggesting they turn off the pumped in bakery smells and avoid stocking cans and bottles. To this I'd probably also add "silence the talking self-checkouts." Doing these things vastly reduces the amount of sensory information pushed onto shoppers, which is awesome for people with overload tendencies.
The more expensive and less likely accommodation I saw was a sensory-friendly room. This is a phenomenon I tend to see more at conventions, but in all honesty, I could really use one everywhere I go.
The idea is to establish an accessible, quiet room with neutral decor and places to sit while someone tries to wind down from a meltdown. Small autistic child having issues? Go to the sensory room and get out their favorite stim-toy. They calm down, and you can get back to your shopping.
In conventions I've been to, this room was literally as simple as "we turned off the lights in this panel room and left like three basic chairs in there." It wasn't exactly comfortable, but it was kinder on my senses than the convention overall.
My additional suggestions for a room like this include offering disposable earplugs, which are a common assistive technology for people with sensory sensitivities, and placing copies of the aforementioned sensory map and Social Story there.
Really though, it doesn't need to be fancy. It just needs to be there and accessible. I don't really think Meijer will go for this idea, though, because any public space they're not using to display products is lost income.
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I included this, in the main, because it seems negligent not to do so. The Autistic Self Advocacy Network has taken great pains to establish easily-digested materials on the subject, and the Autism Society has put together an actual program you can qualify your business for. It seemed criminally negligent not to at least say, "hey, these are cool, maybe check them out?"
In all honesty, though, in a perfect world, I might be able to make a living simply by getting hired to walk through places and point out the autism- or sensory-unfriendly parts of them. I can hear things that most people can't, and am sensitive to bright lights in a way most people can't imagine. I'm also fully verbal and can communicate that information even while stressed.
In this very non-ideal world, I'm not honestly sure there's enough market for such an idea. If you know someone who'd like to know if their business is autism-friendly, though, give me a shout. My rates are very reasonable. : )
Last week I went over about half the presentation, including the various issues and curiosities with the lights in the store, as well as the pitfalls of smell. Today I'll finish up with the sounds I encountered in the store, as well as store policies and ideas for changes.
-------------------------------------------------------------------------------
Like smell, sound is a facet of the senses that's best kept very simple and minimal while shopping. The fewer noises, the better. I was surprised as heck that the store's music was actually set quite low, making it quite sensory-friendly. Normally that's the first offender in every store and restaurant I set foot in. They did somewhat make up for this bit of friendliness by having periodic ads interrupt the music, which is both sensory-unfriendly and highly obnoxious. Still, that was maybe every 5-10 minutes, not constantly.
Speaking of ads, there were many. The PA system was just the start. The shoe section had a massive TV screen with an ad for a shoe brand, complete with flashing pictures and sound. Ew. There were a couple smaller, tablet-sized ads in the alcohol section, though I couldn't say for sure they had noise or not.
By far the most painful sound I encountered was the mobility devices' backup noises. Essentially high pitched shrieks, they grated on my ears like nails on a chalkboard, only louder. I don't begrudge people use of the devices, but I deeply wish the devices didn't sound like construction equipment when backing up.
I was, however, rather pleased at how most of the store's other operational sounds, like the sound of an item being scanned, the overhead fans, and even the theft alarm, were almost muted and polite. I recall, growing up, when barcode scanners hurt my ears. They emitted a high pitched "sckreek!" sound for each item. The ones at this store were several octaves lower. Not perfectly painless, but much better than it could be. The theft alarm makes a "boop boop boop" sound when triggered, roughly around middle C on a piano keyboard. So quite tolerable, while still being alarming if it goes off near you.
I wasn't as thrilled with the talking self-checkouts. If the aim is to reduce the amount of noise-clutter, having a half-dozen registers speaking near-simultaneously is... not great. I also happened upon what I assume is a malfunctioning piece of refrigeration equipment in the vegetable section, which made a high pitched whine I could pick out from several aisles over.
Shopping carts. They're essential, but they come with just... so many horrible noises. The wheels on the carts are probably what most people think of, and they're right to do so. Dud wheels can make all kinds of deeply unpleasant sounds, from a general thudding (crud buildup) to the improperly greased squeal. The range is impressive, and it's all horrifying.
What people may not think of, though, is the noises carts make when they're unstacked. The carts at this (and most stores) are made of metal. They make loud crashing sounds when pulled apart, and when the child seat is lowered. I had some thoughts about this, which included little rubber bits at points of impact. The actual discussion also pointed out that plastic carts are an option, though I shudder at the environmental impact of that decision.
-------------------------------------------------------------------------------
The fun bit about this section is that Meijer actually already has a lot of good policies in place already, just in the course of trying to make the shopping experience optimal. The key here is predictability. Meijer already labels their departments in absolutely massive lettering and abundant signage, and the stores themselves tend to be organized similarly. Two main entrances, one side leading to the food, the other to the non-food.
The exact placement of the departments can vary somewhat by the store, but between the aforementioned signage and the general rule of "food on one side, clothes in the middle, everything else on the other side" you can usually get where you're going fairly quickly.
The one exception to the excellent labeling is the fruits and vegetables department, which is so utterly lacking in signage I just kind of sat and stared for a minute. I have no idea why that's the case. When I brought it up at the meeting, the official wasn't sure either, but thought it might have something to do with how often those sections are reorganized. I still think signage could be managed, though.
Other immediate ideas included eliminating the current policy of greeting customers throughout the store. Like Walmart, Meijer has greeters at the entrance. Those are anxiety-provoking enough for someone like me. Making the stockers say hello to me at random just makes me want to melt into the floor and die. This sentiment was echoed by at least one of my autistic adult contacts.
Another thought I suggested was putting together a Social Story. Ideally these are personalized down to the exact store you're going to be going to, but for someplace like Meijer, even a broad-spectrum one would be better than nothing. The idea is to give the child or adult a sense of the place you're going, what to expect there, and what things are expected of them. This doesn't directly address sensory overload, but it could include another thing suggested during the meeting: a sensory map.
The idea of providing a map to a business isn't new. Noting areas that might overload the nose or ears, though, is something I've never seen in a retail setting. Marking off the perfume aisle (smell), the alcohol section (ears-crashing bottles), and the cleaning products aisle (smell again) as potentially harmful areas could make a shopping experience a lot more tolerable, especially for people new to the store, unfamiliar overall, or people with memory problems.
There were two major ideas that were suggested in my various reading materials. The first is the more feasible one, and is already being done in grocery stores in Australia and Britain. It's fairly simple: a major complaint from autistic people is that stores are too loud and overwhelming.
The solution? Turn everything down, for an hour or two every week, or a day or three every month.
Turn off in-store ads and flashing signs, pause cart collection, and turn down the lights. Based on my walkthrough experience, I expanded on this little by also suggesting they turn off the pumped in bakery smells and avoid stocking cans and bottles. To this I'd probably also add "silence the talking self-checkouts." Doing these things vastly reduces the amount of sensory information pushed onto shoppers, which is awesome for people with overload tendencies.
The more expensive and less likely accommodation I saw was a sensory-friendly room. This is a phenomenon I tend to see more at conventions, but in all honesty, I could really use one everywhere I go.
The idea is to establish an accessible, quiet room with neutral decor and places to sit while someone tries to wind down from a meltdown. Small autistic child having issues? Go to the sensory room and get out their favorite stim-toy. They calm down, and you can get back to your shopping.
In conventions I've been to, this room was literally as simple as "we turned off the lights in this panel room and left like three basic chairs in there." It wasn't exactly comfortable, but it was kinder on my senses than the convention overall.
My additional suggestions for a room like this include offering disposable earplugs, which are a common assistive technology for people with sensory sensitivities, and placing copies of the aforementioned sensory map and Social Story there.
Really though, it doesn't need to be fancy. It just needs to be there and accessible. I don't really think Meijer will go for this idea, though, because any public space they're not using to display products is lost income.
-------------------------------------------------------------------------------
I included this, in the main, because it seems negligent not to do so. The Autistic Self Advocacy Network has taken great pains to establish easily-digested materials on the subject, and the Autism Society has put together an actual program you can qualify your business for. It seemed criminally negligent not to at least say, "hey, these are cool, maybe check them out?"
In all honesty, though, in a perfect world, I might be able to make a living simply by getting hired to walk through places and point out the autism- or sensory-unfriendly parts of them. I can hear things that most people can't, and am sensitive to bright lights in a way most people can't imagine. I'm also fully verbal and can communicate that information even while stressed.
In this very non-ideal world, I'm not honestly sure there's enough market for such an idea. If you know someone who'd like to know if their business is autism-friendly, though, give me a shout. My rates are very reasonable. : )
Love your ideas, Sarah!
ReplyDeleteWell done Sarah! You mentioned so many things that I was not aware of (since Josh is non-verbal and can't express the things he dislikes about Meijer). Thanks so much for all your hard work on this. The idea of you working as a consultant is an excellent one. Perhaps we can discuss this further.
ReplyDelete