I don’t think I’ll survive it.
Me being in the grocery field, I don’t get to stay home from work or limit contact with people. We’re an essential business. We stay open. It is what it is. Everyone in the house is just waiting for it. We’re stocking up on things that we can freeze and non-perishables. We’re testing out shows on Netflix and Amazon to see what we can binge watch. I can tell you, though, that I’m not looking forward to being stuck in the house for two weeks, even if I am sick. Mike just built me an amazing raised bed garden, and I’ve got vegetable seeds started on the dining room table, and they’ll be ready to plant in a few weeks, if not sooner.
Let’s talk about life in the grocery store these days.
It is utter MADNESS. It’s starting to calm down a bit, but good grief. In many ways I’ve lost all faith in humanity over the last week. Between the stock piling of toilet paper, customers screaming at each other because someone took the last box of mac n cheese, customers screaming at employees because corporate has limited the number of certain items that you can buy or we’re plain old out of something, etc. I come home exhausted. Mentally, physically. Exhausted.
At this point, all I hope is that things calm down soon.
I’ve been working in another store all week giving them a hand, and I miss my small little “express” store. Even though my cashiers are dropping like flies taking leave of absences until all of this blows over. I get it, especially as one’s a senior citizen, but at the same time…. mother fucker. I put out feelers to see if we could hire some temporary help – people from other stores, even people from the food service industry that aren’t working since restaurants went to take-out only. I don’t care. I need bodies. And this is going to get worse before it gets better.
But through it all, despite changing the dosage of the Zyprexa and all of the stress I’m under, my mood is still holding steady.
And hey – at least I have a job.