I spotted (;) him at the checkout counter, bagging at No.14. His arms shook violently as he placed a box of eggs into a plastic bag. He wore a name card upon which he had wiritten "Jerry" in kindergarten handwriting. He looked middle-aged but his mental age must have been about 12. Ever since I smiled at him the first time he bagged my groceries at my local supermarket, Jerry has followed me around like an adoring fan. His lack of boundaries makes me uncomfortable. I don't know how to avoid being noticed by him. I don't want to speak to the manager -- my complaint could get him fired. So I started avoiding him. I can still remember the hurt I felt when I was 10 and our neighbor Mrs. Ward didn't respond when I said hello with David and Diane. Instead, she hurried out of the supermarket, leaving me holding my brother and sister's hands. I realized at that moment that I hated Mrs. Ward's reaction. Why, then, years later, was I acting as she had? I picked up a magazine Real Simple. The beautiful photos did nothing to straighten out the guilt in me. I was being ridiculous. The last three times I have seen Jerry, I rushed. There are other stores, but I chose this one because it employs people with disabilities. I want people like my brothers to have jobs. I don't want them to be ignored, the way I am avoiding Jerry. What is the author's attitude towards people with disabilities?
cautious unconcerned ridiculous caring