Dear Sarah, a cashier at Wendy’s,
Today, my 10-year-old son and I visited your location during your shift for a quick lunch. Right from the start, I noticed your warm inquiry about his day. His response, a bit jumbled and unclear, might have surprised you. I could see you glance at me and then back at him as he spoke—a common occurrence for us. As his dedicated speech and language coach, I gently reminded him, “You can say, ‘I’m good!’”
Then, to my astonishment, you engaged with him directly instead of looking to me for his order. He responded to your queries, and you leaned in, asking, “I believe you said you’d like a cup of water, right?” He nodded, clearly delighted. “Aren’t you getting anything to eat? What else?” When he excitedly shared a series of words, you kindly encouraged him to slow down and try again. “Fries,” he managed to say, though it was a bit unclear. “What size?” you asked, and he replied, “Medium.” “Perfect! Anything else?” You glanced at me, and I simply shook my head as my son confidently declared, “Nope!”
What you may not have realized while we held up the line is that my son faces challenges due to childhood apraxia of speech. However, your focus wasn’t on his diagnosis; it was on ensuring that his order was taken accurately. You didn’t just allow him to be an equal customer; you treated him as one. You respected his expertise and presumed his competence—not your version, but his. You gifted him the dignity of time and asked for his name to put on the order screen, checking if you pronounced it correctly and even asking if he could spell it for you, which he did.
I know that you weren’t seeking recognition for your kindness; you simply wanted a 10-year-old boy to enjoy ordering lunch just like any other child might on a Friday afternoon.
Advocacy and inclusion can be complex. When they stem from genuine equality, empathy, and understanding, they become powerful forces for change. When they lack authenticity, they can inadvertently lead to further marginalization. By “allowing” my child to be prom king or score the final basket of the game, well-meaning individuals sometimes miss the mark. It’s an unintentional message that he needs special permission to be included, to be seen as worthy.
Your authentic advocacy, Sarah, has the potential to reshape societal approaches to disability. Thank you for providing not only lunch but also a side of hope.
Warm regards,
His mom
In summary, this heartfelt letter expresses gratitude to a Wendy’s cashier, Sarah, who made a genuine connection with a child with special needs during a lunch visit. The cashier treated him with respect and dignity, allowing him to order independently, thereby demonstrating authentic advocacy for inclusion in society.
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