My favorite breakfast place is not around the corner, but an hour away from Seattle’s Pioneer Square–if I catch the right ferry–on Whidbey Island. It’s a must-stop for those infrequently sunny weekends, along with the West Coast’s most scenic off-leash dog areas at Double Bluff Beach. Cafe in the Woods is part of Mukilteo Coffee Roasters, which is not in Mukilteo, but rather close to quaint, arty Langley. It is very hard to find, but that’s part of the appeal. In terms of breakfast, I favor anticipation. My side-kick, Leslie, gets hypoglycemic easily. So timing is crucial. Miss the ferry, and she’s liable to gnaw my forearm. (Clarifying point: Leslie is my human companion. Gus is my canine companion. He never gnaws my forearm.)

In addition to serving soulfully delicious coffee–you can sample single estate beans grown organically and sold at fair trade–breakfasts feature local, organic produce and eggs. I’m partial to the Huevos Rancheros. Leslie swears by the Farmer’s Scramble and Carrot Hash. (That’s right, you can get Carrot Hash in Washington State. It’s legal here.) One of my favorite brews is the Happy Hippy. The soothing tones of Cat Stevens and the somewhat soothing tones of Bob Dylan often waft down from the speakers. Birkenstocks are de rigeur. Like Gortex.

They have a large, accessible bathroom, which is wonderful, but, alas, no grab bars. It is a challenge. I’ve become accustomed to challenges. I sometimes relish a challenge. But rarely in a bathroom. Rather than suffering in silence, I mentioned this oversight to the manager, along with a quick explanation of my consulting services. Manager Jan assured me she wanted to make the place as accommodating and welcoming as possible. At the time, the cafe was busy, so I emailed her information on options and placement.

Gentle readers, potential clients, loyal family members, this was a big step for me, metaphorically speaking. My chronic illness has shaped me into an advocate, but I still hesitate to make my needs known. I was born and bred outside Boston. <Insert accent here.> That means that I have a well-developed stiff upper lip. I once dragged myself from my car to my house when I re-injured a previously-torn ACL. No one would have been the wiser if Leslie hadn’t spotted the grass stains on the back of my khakis. Knowing that I speak for others helps me brave my hesitancy. I prize authenticity. I don’t have my pitch perfected. My voice is deeper than anyone I know, except my father. And I speak rather slowly. Plus there is a definite chance that people just don’t give a hoot if I can’t maneuver around their store or restaurant or hotel or park or bank or airport or museum. It can make for a perfect storm of indecision. I’ve learned to conquer that inner reticence and lean into my own discomfort.

I am thrilled to report that the ensuing exchange was easy, speedy, and positive. Manager Jan was open and curious; I was open and helpful. Our connection will quickly remedy the situation. Now they see themselves as a more inclusive business, one that meets the needs of people with mobility impairments. And as soon as  my friend, Miguel, creates those We Will Find a Way stickers for me, they’ll have my official seal of approval. That’s my next move. I want a symbol to signal that folks like me can get their needs met. And I want to reward forward-thinking business owners who know that true customer service means service to all.