The world has flipped within about a week. Everything has changed, and we are developing new systems for everyday actions. Each morning I am using bleach on the doorknobs, appliance handles, countertops, light switches. And changing out the hand towels and dish rags. We are keeping more earnest store lists, carefully recording not just what we are out of, but what we might need in the next two weeks… wipes, almond milk, peanut butter, tuna, oatmeal. Trying to be modest with the meals, but also trying to anticipate the strange panicky shortages. Toilet paper? Flour? Bags of garden dirt? I can’t anticipate these things and am getting caught short.
We are trying to keep at bay feelings of panic and helplessness. I am not a worrier by nature, but I do like to be prepared and organized. It’s hard, with things shifting day by day, experts disagreeing, the idiocracy encouraging people toward untested drugs. So much horrendous leadership! Leadership that would be fired at a company, or school, or hospital.
My vote for the three best examples of adaptability and leadership so far:
- Andrew Cuomo. Leading with clear vision and caring and science.
2. School superintendents. Within two weeks they have completely changed their entire platform for learning, offering online learning, plus computers for kids who don’t have them. Plus free internet for kids who don’t have it. And delivering meals to neighborhoods for kids who live in poverty. AND now offering day care for the children of first responders and essential workers. All fully functioning within two weeks. The federal government can only dream of flexibility and competence like this.
3. Costco. Dang, they got it down already. Early Geezer Hours for the at-risk population. Lines of people in a designed traffic flow, six feet apart. Checker who does not touch your card. No separators that you have to touch between orders. Separate boxes for when you buy for your neighbor, each with own receipt taped to the top item. Cheerful and helpful and efficient. And they accomplished this with no union.
A story:
Old geezer, talking to Joe in line, starts inching toward us. The geezer is grizzly with a two day beard and a red hat pulled over scraggly hair. (Is it a MAGA hat? No.) He is now within about 3 feet of Debbie.
Debbie: “Could you back up to six feet, please? “
Geezer: (looking at me in astonishment) “WHAT?” (In high school lingo this would be “You talking to ME?”
Debbie: “You’re supposed to be six feet away. Could you please give me six feet?”
Geezer: Squares up his body at me, does not move back, and gives me direct eye contact. (In high school lingo this would be, “What are you gonna do about it?”). He sarcastically waves at the two feet of space between my cart and the guy in front of me, indicating I should scoot into that space.
Debbie: (He is still three feet from me, and four feet away from own cart.) “You’re supposed to stay six feet away for social distancing.” (Slower, louder.)
Geezer with curled lip: “Well, you better not go in the store, then, because it’s going to be more crowded than this. “
Debbie ponders an immoderate response. I have a strong instinct to kick. Should I do a side volley into his groin? A cardio kick with the sole of my foot? He is like many, many high school freshmen I have dealt with. Not sophomores, certainly not seniors— freshmen. I move my cart forward away from him and save my apocalypse behavior for another day. I am Legion.