Every great super hero has their super power. And for any super villain to stand a chance against their opposite, said super hero or power must be able to be neutralized in some way: a weakness, an Achilles' Heel, their kryptonite, whatever you want to call it.
Now, I'm as far away from being a great super hero as you can possibly be, so I have only the mediocre power of being able to call more than 1 lift at a time. And because my super power is so lame, anything with the strength of a dung beetle might be able to thwart me. But you know what I discovered my kryptonite is?
Yes, the alphabet of the blind has the ability to screw with my elevator super powers. It doesn't neutralize it, but rather make the use of said powers very painful.
Every time I manage to call more than 1 lift, a smirk spreads across my face and I my inner dialogue starts saying things like: Yeah, that's right, all elevators bow before me... When I'm in this I'm-the-king-of-the-elevators sort of mood, I press the elevator buttons a bit more forcefully than I need to. I don't usually use the end of my finger to press the buttons. Instead, it's more like a knocking-on-the-door action where I put my knuckles into it.
So how does Braille hurt me? Well take a look at the buttons being used in the lifts in my work building:
See the Braille sticking-out of the buttons? Now, imagine smashing your knuckles into those. Each tiny dot becomes the equivalent of a small spike when I throw my knuckles into them at the speed; fighting back with the bite of a rose thorn and killing my inner dialogue in the same way every time: with capital letters and exclamation points (eg: ...OWWWWW!!!!) while simultaneously wounding my pride.
Like martial arts, Braille has harnessed the power of science and learned to turn my own strength against me.
When I put it like that, I think I'd prefer it if my weakness were dung beetles - Braille can go anywhere, whereas dung beetles can't survive the New Zealand climate.