I work in a hotel. Like many businesses, we have the remnants from the global health crisis sticking around in the form of cautionary signs, ample hand sanitizer, and plastic barriers at the front desk. These things are just sheets of hard, clear plastic that sit on the counter — sneeze guards. The guard covers the whole front of the desk, which is obviously the part of it where we interact with guests. Occasionally, there’s the odd guest with a hearing impairment who needs to stand at the side where there’s no barrier to hear us, but other than that, nobody really minds it. People don’t even notice it most of the time — even going so far as to accidentally slam their hands into it when handing us their IDs because they didn’t register that it’s right there.

Could we take it down? Yeah, probably. But the truth is, we all like it. We don’t want to take it down. Not only does it keep people from sneezing or coughing all over us, but it also provides a nice buffer between the agent and any angry or aggressive guest. Sometimes you just want something between you and an a**hole.

This guy walks in and throws his ID on the desk to check in. I pull his name up on the computer, and he just starts getting pissy because of the sneeze guards.

Guest: *Hitting the plastic* “Why is this s*** still up? Huh? Why? Do you really want this here?”

I glance up at him for a second.

Me: “Yes, actually, I do enjoy not having to worry about guests sneezing on me.”

Guest: *Scoffing* “Ridiculous. This is f****** ridiculous. You really think this works? Idiots. You think it will stop microscopic germs from getting in? Do you walk around in public carrying a big sheet of plastic in front of you because you’re afraid of germs? Huh? Do you?!”

Me: “Of course I don’t. Because there’s a very similar product that accomplishes the same thing while being much less bulky. It’s called a mask, and I do wear one in public, yes.”

This dude has already been red in the face, just completely pissed off, shouting at me, but I can nearly see smoke coming out of his ears at this point.

Guest: “Idiots. F****** ridiculous.”

And he muttered something else under his breath that I couldn’t quite make out before stalking away and going to his room.

Sir, we have ice machines on the first and third floors should you need something to ease the pain of all that butthurt. No need to get offended over a piece of plastic that has no bearing on your life whatsoever.

This happened right at the start of the [global health crisis] closures in my area. I run a small swim shop, and with all of the pools being closed and the rules being unclear about what stores were technically “essential” and what weren’t in my area, we thought it was best to close for the time being. I did take advantage of the situation and decided to do a 100% from-scratch inventory. I figured that I had a couple of uninterrupted weeks of working solo in the store and that I might as well use it to make my inventory perfect. 

My store is right next door to a salon. We’re so close that when it’s quiet we can sometimes hear each other through our shared wall. I was a couple of days into flying solo, and I hadn’t seen any other cars in our parking lot and also knew that the salon was closed, as all of the salons in the area were. I figured that I was completely alone in our complex, so I didn’t worry too much about being loud or anything. I entertained myself as I counted stock by rocking out to music at near full volume and watching and listening to videos all day. 

My favorite genre of movie is horror, and during this time I was on a bit of a slasher kick. I came into work, set my laptop up on the front counter so I could see and hear it as I moved around, and turned on a movie with all the screaming female leads running around panicking. Of course, I had the volume up fairly loud so I could hear it around the whole store. 

I left the movie playing when I went into the backroom for a moment, out of sight of our front windows, just as one of the big Scream Queen close-up moments happened. I heard the scream, and then not long after, I heard a panicked pounding on the front door that was so forceful I thought someone might end up breaking it down. 

It turned out that one of the stylists from next door had gone in with her husband to grab some supplies to do her own hair at home. She saw my car and saw me when she was walking in. Then, she heard the bloody murder screams of the actress in my movie and thought they were coming from me and that I was being attacked, so she sent her husband to save me. When he didn’t see me through the front window, he started to pound on the door. 

We laugh about the situation now. But I have to say, I sure do feel a lot safer working at my store, especially closing solo at night, knowing my neighbors have my back.

Related:
Like A Good Neighbor, Don’t Be A Creep!
Like A Good Neighbor, Stay Out Of My House!
Like A Good Neighbor, Eyes To Yourself!
Like A Good Neighbor, Back Off My Dog!
Like A Good Neighbor, Try Saying “Please”

In March 2020, due to the health crisis, our company instituted a work-from-home policy for all of its employees. Most of us had laptops to work on; anyone who didn’t was issued one.

The WFH situation dragged on, and on. It went from “We’ll be back by summer 2020” to “Maybe not until October 2020” to “God only knows”.  

Sometime in early 2021, I found out that a longtime employee, Chris, had been laid off. I was saddened but not surprised. My somewhat ditzy coworker Bonny, however, could NOT understand why it had happened.

Bonny: “Why would they let Chris go? He’s been with the company for years!”

Me: “It sucks, definitely, but Chris’s role was Desktop Support, so…”

Bonny: “So? What’s that got to do with anything?”

Me: “With no one working at the office, there were no desktops to support. They were essentially paying Chris to do nothing for almost a year.”

Bonny: “I still don’t get why they’d lay him off. So unfair.”

Me: “He was literally doing nothing. That’s not his fault, but I see their side of it.”

Bonny: “But we’ll go back to the office eventually, and they’ll need him then!”

I gave up at that point. As it turned out, in mid-2021, the company announced that anyone who wanted to keep working from home could do so indefinitely. Therefore, Chris STILL wouldn’t have had much to do if they’d kept him on.

I’m a manager in a pharmacy. Sometime in 2021, half of our store floor is turned into a temporary vaccination facility. We explain this to some of our retail customers who ask why a wall of curtains is blocking their access to what used to be departments they would use. Most are fine with it — emphasis on “most”.

Customer: “You should all be ashamed of normalizing vaccines! You just don’t know what’s in them!”

Me: “Actually, we know exactly what’s in them.”

Customer: “You only know what they want you to know! They cause autism!”

Me: “That is simply not true.” *Looks around conspiratorially and leans in closer* “What if the vaccines caused cancer, though?”

Customer: *Also leaning in* “Why? What have you heard?”

Me: “Oh, nothing. Just wondering, don’t you buy cigarettes every time you come here?”

Yes, I know, it’s stupid that a pharmacy sells cigarettes, but hey! Corporate America!

Customer: “That’s different!”

Me: “You’re right! Over 150,000 people die of lung cancer in the US every year. I think maybe three or four people have died from vaccine complications in the US? After 300 million doses. So, yeah… very different.”

Customer: “You’re just a sheep who does what he’s told! Look at the real evidence!”

Me: “I’m a sheep that didn’t get sick while working in a pharmacy during a global health crisis. That’s plenty of evidence right there. So, one pack or two today?”

The customer glared at me but still bought her daily pack of cigarettes.

Related:
You Can’t Vaccinate Against Stupid, Part 3
You Can’t Vaccinate Against Stupid, Part 2
You Can’t Vaccinate Against Stupid

I’m driving cross-country because of a serious family medical emergency. I stop at a highway rest stop somewhere along the way to get gas and grab something to eat and drink on the road.

Because this is around 2020 or 2021, only two out of the eight or so food places inside are open — fast food burgers and a coffee chain. All of the tables and chairs have been removed.

I wait in line to order coffee. There are two people working; a cashier and a barista. Because of social distancing, after people order, they spread out and wait for their names to be called when their coffees are ready.

There are about five orders ahead of me that haven’t been made yet. A woman who was behind me in line pushes to the front and gets inches away from the barista’s face.

Pushy Woman: “I’m going to need you to make the two cappuccinos and the hot chocolate before you make anyone else’s drinks.”

Barista: “Please stand back. You’re going to have to wait your turn.”

Pushy Woman: “You need to take care of me first! I’m not waiting. I’m in a hurry and I want to get back on the road!”

I couldn’t believe the level of entitlement and disrespect — and the obliviousness.

The barista refused to push up the order, and the woman had to wait her turn with the rest of us — who also just wanted to get back on the road.