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A Tale of Two Fridays,...
Apr. 3rd, 2021 10:02 pmI made brief mention the other day about Friday ending well for me, not so much for the missus. Both of us were at work- her at her store, me on the road.
The current state of COVID has made for some touchy interactions on Eleanor's front line of retail. Despite vaccinations becoming more and more generally available- she's had both of hers, my second is this Wednesday- her store continues to enforce the simple rules that have been in place for over a year now, with those rules clearly marked at both eye and floor level. Wear your mask, stay on your side of the plexi when you get up to pay, and stay where the signs tell you until you are called forward first to unload your stuff and then to pay. I do this on the customer side of things almost daily and it's habit.
But there have always been deniers and Speshul Cases and just plain assholes, and our recent weeks of progress have only enabled them more. But I HADDDD my SHOTTTTTT!, they whine. (Fine, you need two in most cases, and even after the second it's not fully effective for two weeks, and we can't deal with people faking certificates, so STAY THE FUCK BACK. She can't say it that unkindly, but gets a lot of that kind of unkindness from these COVIDiots.
Two of them came through toward the end of her workday, tagteaming her with guilt and annoyance. Mr. C didn't want to stay where he was told because he couldn't see the items being rung up on the station monitor. (Never mind that she can scroll through the thing before he pays, or he can look at his receipt right after, or use one of the self-checkouts where you can get close enough to the monitor to lick the damn thing, but these aren't things one can say:P) Mrs. C, meanwhile, had a cane, so oh poor her, she couldn't stand back where SHE was supposed to, either. When they were told that she was simply enforcing state regulations and company policy, Mr. C took offense, went over to the service desk and narc'd on her. A coordinator came over and basically told her she should have just "called for help" and not said anything further to the Customer Who Is Always Right Even When They're Not. ("Calling for help" involves getting the attention of a limited number of overworked coordinators who are slow to see the call and slow to respond even when they do. The coordinator in question has proven herself to be one of the worst at this.)
Having this at the end of her day and week made it worse. By the time we sat down to eat and then start a film (Irresistable, which we finished tonight and is fantastic:), the sting had mainly passed. I told her she needed only to brave the bullshit for the three more weeks it's supposed to take us to close this refi; after that, they can fire her and the unemployment will probably be more than she's making now, which would cover the cost of two months of COBRA until Medicare starts in July.
Hopefully the rules can get more relaxed as we get closer to herd immunity, or if vaccine passports become a prerequisite to entering the store. Until then, it would be nice if people would just try a little kindness and empathy. Or die in a fire. One or the other.
----
Shortly before she had THAT lovely experience, I was headed on a trip through a time warp. A former office coworker of mine referred a client for bankruptcy, but when we connected, there was no problem setting up a meeting time but the place would be tricky. She doesn't have a car, and the bus schedule middays is pretty skeevy. No problem, I said, our office is semi-closed for Good Friday anyway, I can come down to where you are.
"Where you are" turned out to be the home of the UB Dental School on its original Main Street campus. I haven't been in a building on Main Street (South Campus, as they now call it) in probably over 20 years, and none of it looks like it did when I was in law school Oop North. Still, I knew where Squire Hall was-
for in its previous life, including my first year there, it was the center of campus life there known as Norton Union:
Same building, from the look of the cars some 70 years prior. I got that latter photo from a guy's 2015 thesis, which traces the history of UB's campuses from the merger with SUNY through the disastrous decision to site it on a suburban swamp, up to my time where Squire was closed with nothing to replace it for years. In my first year, it was still home to book and record shops, game rooms, and the main theater for campus films- I saw Attack of the Killer Tomatoes in its basement cinema.
That cellar is now turned over to non-tomatoey teeth. Soon as I got in, past the COVID checker in a top hat with bunny ears and over to the information desk I'd been told to ask for client at, every sight or mention of her came with a smile. She came out, took me through the utterly unrecognizable labyrinth that was Not Norton Union Anymore, and down to her cubicle among cartons of amalgams and dental instruments. Everyone we passed knew her, said hi to her, clearly adored her. I don't even know what she does down there, but she must do it well or kindly enough to get that kind of reaction.
And, she did everything well and kindly that I needed. Had things ready for me I hadn't asked for in advance and usually have to (sorry) pull teeth to get clients to get me, like pay stubs and her most recent tax return. She answered all of my initial questions and asked good ones of me. Oh, and paid on the spot, another common cause of emergency extraction in my line of work. I left there happily, with neither a care in the world or pursuit by a tomato.
The current state of COVID has made for some touchy interactions on Eleanor's front line of retail. Despite vaccinations becoming more and more generally available- she's had both of hers, my second is this Wednesday- her store continues to enforce the simple rules that have been in place for over a year now, with those rules clearly marked at both eye and floor level. Wear your mask, stay on your side of the plexi when you get up to pay, and stay where the signs tell you until you are called forward first to unload your stuff and then to pay. I do this on the customer side of things almost daily and it's habit.
But there have always been deniers and Speshul Cases and just plain assholes, and our recent weeks of progress have only enabled them more. But I HADDDD my SHOTTTTTT!, they whine. (Fine, you need two in most cases, and even after the second it's not fully effective for two weeks, and we can't deal with people faking certificates, so STAY THE FUCK BACK. She can't say it that unkindly, but gets a lot of that kind of unkindness from these COVIDiots.
Two of them came through toward the end of her workday, tagteaming her with guilt and annoyance. Mr. C didn't want to stay where he was told because he couldn't see the items being rung up on the station monitor. (Never mind that she can scroll through the thing before he pays, or he can look at his receipt right after, or use one of the self-checkouts where you can get close enough to the monitor to lick the damn thing, but these aren't things one can say:P) Mrs. C, meanwhile, had a cane, so oh poor her, she couldn't stand back where SHE was supposed to, either. When they were told that she was simply enforcing state regulations and company policy, Mr. C took offense, went over to the service desk and narc'd on her. A coordinator came over and basically told her she should have just "called for help" and not said anything further to the Customer Who Is Always Right Even When They're Not. ("Calling for help" involves getting the attention of a limited number of overworked coordinators who are slow to see the call and slow to respond even when they do. The coordinator in question has proven herself to be one of the worst at this.)
Having this at the end of her day and week made it worse. By the time we sat down to eat and then start a film (Irresistable, which we finished tonight and is fantastic:), the sting had mainly passed. I told her she needed only to brave the bullshit for the three more weeks it's supposed to take us to close this refi; after that, they can fire her and the unemployment will probably be more than she's making now, which would cover the cost of two months of COBRA until Medicare starts in July.
Hopefully the rules can get more relaxed as we get closer to herd immunity, or if vaccine passports become a prerequisite to entering the store. Until then, it would be nice if people would just try a little kindness and empathy. Or die in a fire. One or the other.
----
Shortly before she had THAT lovely experience, I was headed on a trip through a time warp. A former office coworker of mine referred a client for bankruptcy, but when we connected, there was no problem setting up a meeting time but the place would be tricky. She doesn't have a car, and the bus schedule middays is pretty skeevy. No problem, I said, our office is semi-closed for Good Friday anyway, I can come down to where you are.
"Where you are" turned out to be the home of the UB Dental School on its original Main Street campus. I haven't been in a building on Main Street (South Campus, as they now call it) in probably over 20 years, and none of it looks like it did when I was in law school Oop North. Still, I knew where Squire Hall was-
for in its previous life, including my first year there, it was the center of campus life there known as Norton Union:
Same building, from the look of the cars some 70 years prior. I got that latter photo from a guy's 2015 thesis, which traces the history of UB's campuses from the merger with SUNY through the disastrous decision to site it on a suburban swamp, up to my time where Squire was closed with nothing to replace it for years. In my first year, it was still home to book and record shops, game rooms, and the main theater for campus films- I saw Attack of the Killer Tomatoes in its basement cinema.
That cellar is now turned over to non-tomatoey teeth. Soon as I got in, past the COVID checker in a top hat with bunny ears and over to the information desk I'd been told to ask for client at, every sight or mention of her came with a smile. She came out, took me through the utterly unrecognizable labyrinth that was Not Norton Union Anymore, and down to her cubicle among cartons of amalgams and dental instruments. Everyone we passed knew her, said hi to her, clearly adored her. I don't even know what she does down there, but she must do it well or kindly enough to get that kind of reaction.
And, she did everything well and kindly that I needed. Had things ready for me I hadn't asked for in advance and usually have to (sorry) pull teeth to get clients to get me, like pay stubs and her most recent tax return. She answered all of my initial questions and asked good ones of me. Oh, and paid on the spot, another common cause of emergency extraction in my line of work. I left there happily, with neither a care in the world or pursuit by a tomato.