After signing up for several lists, strategically showing up at several Meijers with fingers crossed, and seeing the myriad posts from friends across the social media sphere who seemed to just outflank me in their vaccine treasure hunting missions . . . last week I got my first dose of the Pfizer Covid-19 vaccine. The lines were long at the DeVoss Center, but the operation was flawless, if not a bit dystopian. I couldn't help but envy these vaccine line workers directing us to and fro because it seemed they had perhaps the best possible job in this pandemic, they got to celebrate with us as we participated in the best solution humans have come up with to beat killer viruses. I made darn sure they knew I was happy to be there, with smiling eyes and specific words of gratitude, I thanked everyone I could. From Angie at the kiosk, who had to update my profile that was still showing an address from 2002, to the final greeter who was thanking participants for 'being a part of the solution' before we left the building, I did my best to glow for everyone involved.
I know their work is hard, but I envy their role because I've been in a different spot in this pandemic journey. I work for everyone's favorite 'neighborhood' grocery store that rhymes with, um, Greater Flows. Those grocery 'essentials' who've been through all of it since the beginning, oh the stories we have. $600 carts, bare shelves, toilet paper limitations, slow safety measures, resistance to masking, lines, protests, politicization, the “nosers” who can't seem to wear their masks correctly, not to mention the fear of bringing home this virus to our households and loved ones . . . every . . . fucking . . . day. Two nights ago, 383 days since this virus came to Michigan, I was told of a man who scorned our safety measures before standing in line, even lobbing the word 'sheeple' at my two coworkers. Fortunately, those waiting in line essentially 'boo'd' him into submission. I was lucky enough to have him in my line, unaware of what had taken place. He was cordial with me but surely felt the eye-daggers shot his way from all others who knew better.
This is what we've been dealing with for over a year now. I have coworkers whose smiles I've never seen.
Yesterday a friend and I wondered how long until our store culture could return to pre-virus status, with all its warms and fuzzies. She could barely imagine a day when we get comfortable all over again with miniature cups of coffee pumped from the same public carafe and small paper plate samples picked over by children who’ve returned for their third helping. We still get new customers all the time and I used to try to explain that had they come at a different time I'd explain all of the great things that make our grocery chain special: new food samples and recipes shared every day, fresh coffee always brewed and ready, the ability to try a product before you buy it, the general sense of being at a party you didn't know you were invited to, and of course, the no-hassle return policy. That is until I realized most people only make out a small percentage of what I say and nod to be polite. So I don't explain any of this. Communicating through masks, social distancing, and plastic barriers makes everything hard to say and hear, so I keep it short and work quickly because there are people outside waiting for their turn.
Michigan is in bad shape. “For the seventh week in a row, the state of Michigan is the worst in the nation in terms of coronavirus cases” says Victor Williams writing for Click On Detroit. Quoting Detroit Chief Health Officer, Denise Fair, in the same article: “We are right back where we were a year ago.” But it feels different out in the wild. It feels like people have moved on. I feel like moving on. We're all so tired. Every time I watch someone tear their mask off the moment they walk out the door I have to resist the urge to look them in the eye and say “forty fucking hours a week,” pointing at my mask.
But it is better with part one of two in my arm. I'm getting comfortable day-dreaming about social gatherings. Oh how I long for house warming parties, hugs, and seeing smiles on mouths not just eyes. One foot is stepping confidently in that direction while the other drags a cement block stuck in the past and present of this virus's wrath which I keep hearing is far from over. Wild times we're living in.
