Would I be "Ofdon?"
Lining up outside stores is the new normal. The first time was Friday, when I went to the LCBO. I hadn’t been there for about a week, which is FOREVER in pandemic years, I am learning. It used be true that things wouldn’t change much from one day to a the next, one week to the next, one month to the next, one YEAR to the next…but Pandemic time changes much more quickly. Last week, when I went to the LCBO, things were pretty normal. A few people wore masks ,the workers wore gloves, and most people tried to practice social distancing (except the old guy who kept coming up behind me…why is it always the old guys?), but there were a lot of people in the store, some in small groups, and we all smiled and nodded at each other, as if to say “isn’t this weird?” This week, I arrived to find a line of 5 people outside the store, and a security guard wearing a BULLET-PROOF vest at the door, allowing people to enter one at a time, and only when someone else left the store. It reminded me of lining up at the bars in the 90’s, except none of the girls were scantily dressed (quite the opposite - we were all wearing yoga pants and hoodies) and all of us were standing at least 6 feet away from each other. Actually - that last point isn’t true because the line was being formed in the wheelchair ramp, which used the switch-back technique, meaning that I actually ended up standing right beside a guy who was three people ahead of me in the line (visualize a line at Canada’s Wonderland, and you’ll see what i mean). I started to say “This is interesting…”, and I was going to joke about how we were actually standing closer together than we would be in a normal line, but then I noticed that nobody was making eye contact with me…this was not a time for casual conversation. When my turn came to enter the store, I felt the usual little thrill as I walked in the door (I love the LCBO…they usually greet me with a warm hello, offer me a sample of the latest wine, and play upbeat music. I am not an alcoholic, but visiting the LCBO is always a pleasant experience. It’s like a candy store for adults, I always say), but I quickly realized that this was not the LCBO I knew and loved. Nobody greeted me warmly. Quite the opposite, actually. The two tellers and the in-store security guard looked at me with appraising eyes. I immediately felt ashamed of myself for entering. As my sister later reminded me, liquor stores were only deemed “essential services” (and therefore exempt from the mandatory shut-downs announced three days ago) because alcoholics would get very ill if they we forced to go cold-turkey. So, my desire for a few coolers on my back deck really REALLY did not give me an adequate reason for being there. But I swear - I SWEAR - things were so different just a few days ago, the last time I was here - how can the whole world change on a dime? And that’s when I started to feel like Offred. In one scene of The Handmaid’s Tale, Offred goes to the little store, and she is whispering to another handmaid through the shelf. Nobody makes eye contact, everyone stays physically far away, there is a shortage of most foods, and they all quickly get what they need and get out. Oh - and there are men with bullet-proof vests (and guns…) guarding the doors. As soon as I got into the store, I wanted to get out. There was no music playing. Half of the lights were out. There were definitely no samples on offer. I felt panic rising. I rushed to the back, looked frantically for my coolers, couldn’t find them, grabbed ones that I don’t even like, rushed to the front, grabbed a bottle of vodka on the way past (so I wouldn’t have to come in again), and stood on the red tape line until the teller told me to come to the counter. To his credit, the teller did say hello, and he did ask me how I was doing. He wore gloves, and wiped down the interac machine when I was finished with it, but he also wished me a good day on the way out. The security guard even told me to “take care”, which I found surprisingly reassuring. I didn’t take a photo of the line-up because I wasn’t emotionally prepared enough to realize that I would eventually write about it. A few hours later, however, I went to the pharmacy to pick up a prescription (and yes… they would have delivered it to my house…but I wonder if I should be using this service, or leaving it for people who really need it? There are so many morally judgmental decisions to make right now… ), and I encountered another line. This time, I wasn’t bothered by it - even though there was, once again, a security guard ushering us in one at a time. This was normal now. In just a few hours, I had accepted this new way of living enough that I was able to whip out my phone and take a photo to post on Facebook. I do wonder what things will be like in another few days (or hours), and how much more life can change and how much more we can adapt and flex with the changes, and what it will be like when the novelty and adrenaline and survival instinct wears off and we start to feel the true emotional impact of these changes.
