My boss and I had a disagreement about working from home this week. The office is in San Francisco. I live in the East Bay and need to cross the Bay Bridge to get to work.

We had an important presentation scheduled today. I wanted to do it “virtual” because the APEC [Asia-Pacific Economic Cooperation] meeting is in SF this week, and everything seems disrupted. President Biden and Chinese President Xi are here. It’s a two-hour commute on a typical day, and I told my boss it might not be feasible to come in this week.

He insisted I come in.

Me: “Okay, but don’t blame me if I get stuck in traffic.”

We had a pretty heated discussion about it.

Today there’s a huge backup on every freeway toward the Bay Bridge because protesters have chained themselves across all five lanes. The bridge is completely closed.

Now, the boss wants me to do the presentation “virtual”.

Me: “I can’t. I’m stuck in traffic. I can’t operate my vehicle and do the presentation. You will have to do it without me.”

(But he isn’t really qualified.)

The presentation ended up being rescheduled.

Disclaimer: This story contains content of a medical nature. It is not intended as medical advice.

Back during the panic-buying phase of the global health crisis, the flapper in my toilet broke, and I had to make a run to the hardware store.

While there, it occurred to me to check the filter masks aisle. At the time, the focus for masks was on self-protection, not protecting others from you, so valved respirators looked like a great idea.

All the dust masks — useless for blocking [contagious illness] transmission either way — were sold out. My guess is that people saw them as a bargain. All the N95 masks were sold out. But there was a full rack of N100 disposable masks untouched, and they had five entire cases — twenty-five masks per case — of reusable P100 respirator masks.

People were actually avoiding the masks that were better than N95 because they never bothered to learn what the alphanumeric code meant; they just panic-bought N95s.

I actually helped this grandfather-type pick out enough P100 masks for his entire family. He had no idea P100 was better than N95, and we both took a moment to boggle at the five cases of P100s left untouched.

The local drugstore had similar craziness; all concentrations of ethyl and isopropyl alcohol were gone, but the shaving section had cleaning cartridges for electric shavers, and those cartridges were between 85% and 90% alcohol.

Likewise, the store’s stock of povidone-iodine was completely untouched; povidone-iodine is thirty times more effective at killing [illness] than 80% ethyl alcohol is.

The whole thing was utter madness.

I work in a supermarket, and I’m still wearing a mask in 2023. A little paranoid, I know, but most of my family works in healthcare. Whenever customers ask me why I still have one, I tell them…

Me: “Oh, I’m extremely vulnerable, and I’ve caught it twice already. I don’t fancy round three.”

And 98% of customers are cool at best, or they give that weird “awww, poor disabled person, awwww” pity at nearly worst. There are a handful of people around who laugh about how I’m still a slave to “all that hysteria“, for whom I’ve discovered a far better reply.

Me: “Oh, I don’t have a mouth. I find that tends to scare customers’ kids.”

They’re either too scared or confused and drop it.

I’m a self-checkout attendant in a grocery store and frequently wear a cloth face mask, a rarity in that particular store. I go to approve an alcohol sale for a customer.

Me: “Could I see your ID for the vodka, please?”

Customer: “What is this, a federal indictment?”

Me: “Nope, just [Store] policy; we have to card everyone now.”

Customer: “Could’ve fooled me. With the mask, you could’ve been government.”

Me: “Oh, I just wear this because I have a condition that makes it the best option.”

Customer: “Uh-huh. Sure.”

This is when I lose my temper a little bit; I’m sick of meeting morons who think that wearing a piece of cloth is akin to selling one’s soul.

Me: “It ensures that I don’t have to clean up blood every day. Have you ever noticed how dry the air is in here? My sinuses are ridiculously sensitive, and if I leave this mask off for even an hour, my nose will start to bleed. I like not cleaning blood off of people’s groceries or making my coworkers do it. Have a good day.”

I walked off, leaving him looking both stunned and thoughtful. He mumbled a “thank you” before he left, but I’m not sure for what. I hope I made him rethink a few negative opinions toward masks. 

Related:
An Ugly Side Of Society Has Been Unmasked, Part 31
An Ugly Side Of Society Has Been Unmasked, Part 30
An Ugly Side Of Society Has Been Unmasked, Part 29
An Ugly Side Of Society Has Been Unmasked, Part 28
An Ugly Side Of Society Has Been Unmasked, Part 27

My husband’s job is one of the essential jobs during the various lockdowns; he’s a sanitation engineer.

About the second week of the lockdown, he’s having trouble finding a sanitizing spray for his truck. One morning on his way to work at 4:00 am, he stops at one of the few stores open that early, hoping to purchase some. When he gets to the door, he sees that it’s only open for first responders and medical personnel.

He turns to head back to his car, but a local sheriff’s deputy heading into the store spots my husband’s reflective vest.

Deputy: “What trash company do you work for?”

Husband: “[Company].”

Deputy: “Thank you for being out there!”

Husband: “It’s you who deserves the thanks!”

Deputy: “Do you always shop this early?”

Husband: “No, but I’m having trouble finding a sanitizing spray for my truck and I’m trying to find some before work.”

Deputy: “Do they have any in the store?”

Husband: “I can’t go into the store.”

Deputy: “Stay right where you are.”

The deputy then went into the store, purchased the spray, and brought it out to my husband. When my husband tried to pay him, he wouldn’t take any money and just carried on his way.