Modern life

It is really not that far short of two months since I wrote this blog piece in which I described the business necessarily involved in a visit to one’s local grocery store (supermarket). I ended that post with the expression of a fear of just how long the restrictions then newly imposed might need to remain in place – and of how the public might react when that fact became apparent.

Here we are two months down the line and it is fascinating to observer how what then seemed like an emergency provision has after all become what is described by that increasingly hackneyed phrase – the ‘New Normal’. The business of grocery shopping here is still essentially as I described it then, but with significant improvements to the first ‘draft’. Other things have changed as well – some of them less expected.

The whole bulk-food section has gone (to be replaced by shelf-loads of properly packaged offerings) as have the fresh fish and meat counters. The one-way system around the store has been refined and the checkouts now have plexiglass screens not only between the masked operatives and the customers but also between adjacent lines. Customers have also become more adept at the delicate dance of avoidance that we all perform around the aisles. Finally, even those of us ideologically opposed to the practice have adopted the use of ‘tapping’ at the credit card machines so that no direct touching is required.

The biggest practical change, however, occurred a couple of weeks back. I had been going to the store once a week early in the morning and queuing with all of the other anxious shoppers. Then – without any warning – the queues vanished. On no occasion since then have I had to wait at all to enter the store – I have just swanned right on in.

Other elements that are rapidly becoming ritualised in the ‘2N’ include the return home. Mine goes like this:

• Carry the disposable (paper) bags of shopping into the house. Place on the floor.
• Remove the disposable gloves that I wear in the store and wash hands.
• Remove each item from the bags and carefully wipe it down using hand sanitiser and kitchen towel.
• Dispose of bags.
• Wash hands.
• Using hand sanitiser and towel wipe down steering wheel, door handles and other controls in the SUV.
• Wipe down front door handles and locks.
• Wipe down keys, man-bag and glasses.
• Wash hands.
• Put away groceries.

Now – some of this may seem over the top… or not – depending on how rigorous the gentle reader has determined is necessary in his or her particular circumstances. We wear cloth face masks when we go to stores. Others don’t.

It is somewhat depressing to think that this might be how we live now for an extended period, but we can certainly do it. It is the other things that feel to be a greater loss – socialising with others – dining out – going to the theatre – music in the parks and suchlike…

Those I really do miss…

“There is no longer such a thing as strategy; there is only crisis management.”

Robert McNamara

…which may well be true – particularly at the moment. What most of us are doing would definitely not count as strategy and I’m pretty certain that that goes for many of the world’s leaders as well. Some of them are palpably not even aiming for management…

The world is in a deathly strange place right now – and all is uncharted territory! Nothing that we knew before seems to apply any more.

And then there’s shopping! Not just exotic or even casual shopping – the sort of thing that used to fill rather too much of our time and would produce unpredictable – if not always unpleasant – results. No – I am referring to that simple, routine and essential round of visiting those commonplace purveyors of comestibles – the grocery stores/supermarkets – call them what you will…

It seems likely that throughout the world what was once a familiar ritual (or chore, depending on your point of view) has been transformed utterly into a mysterious and really rather threatening procedure, throughout which one constantly expects the sirens to start wailing, the searchlights to pierce the darkness and those masked agents of authority to swoop out of the shadows to haul one away for some uncomprehended infringement.

I exaggerate of course (though dramatic effect seems somehow superfluous in these dark days) but nowhere near as much one might have guessed before this all started.

Anyway – this is how it goes at our local Thrifty’s…

One aims to get there early – to avoid the crowds. The car park is sparsely occupied which gives one a false sense of optimism. The main entrance to the store – with automatic doors facing three ways – has been reconfigured to allow ingress and egress through two of those openings. A member of staff is on permanent duty there to ensure that people are only going in one direction at a time.

Only a very limited number of shoppers are being allowed in to the store at any point. Shoppers going in queue by one of the doors. This queue snakes round the side of the building and adheres to the spacing set by the big back crosses marked on the paving – each two metres apart. When one reaches the front of the queue one waits to be summoned inside. A trolley is offered and carefully sanitised by the staff member before one is allowed in.

Inside the store everyone struggles to stay two metres apart. We all pass down the aisles in the same direction, waiting for spaces to open up before we enter the aisle.

No bulk foods are available, though staff have  pre-packaged a reasonably selection of what is normally on offer. The fresh meat and fish counters are closed – and again there are more pre-packaged offerings than are usual for Canada (in the UK there is often a lot of pre-packaged fresh fish for example; in Canada there is rarely any – we get it done freshly by the fish guy). There is still a good selection of produce in store and whilst I was there last there were three semis (articulated lorries) outside unloading more supplies.

Every other checkout is closed so that you don’t stand next to someone else and again there are boxes marked on the floor two metres apart to control the queues. If one wishes to use one’s own reusable bags – as did I – one must pack for oneself (again – most Canadians expect the checkout person to pack) and the bags must be left in the cart and not placed on the checkout ‘desk’. The checkout operator sanitised the card reader between each use. I asked her what would happen if the moisture were to damage the reader. She told me they would simply get out another one.

The whole experience had a somewhat surreal post-apocalyptic air about it – as though one were visiting a hospital – or a morgue…

It is good to see everyone abiding by these necessary but completely foreign precautions. Perhaps we can get through this by working together. My fear is that when people realise just how extended this period is likely to be they will lose interest in being responsible.

Let us hope not – for all our sakes.