Last February, I was given the wonderful news of being officially hired as a junior graphic designer in the publishing department of our company. Not only that, I have three to four reading books coming out by the end of the year. The only thing that needed to happen before I could do this full time is to find a replacement for my current position. I didn’t expect that a pandemic would be the hindrance to finally get paid to do what I love.
I’ve watched a whole lot of post-apocalyptic films to have a certain idea of what a disintegrated society looks like. I did not imagine it could potentially happen in real life as I still live and breathe on this earth. I’m not saying what we’re experiencing right now will end up in a Mad Max society years down the road. I think we’re too civilized for that. I hope.
True panic was something I never knew up until a week ago. I used the term panic when I forgot my school presentation at home. I used the term panic when I was running late for an interview. I used the term panic when my mother would yell at us that we’re not ready yet for a party that we’re not technically too excited to go to. True panic, however, was a whole new level. As I sat in front of my computer in a barren office, reading Governor Tom Wolf’s declaration of widespread shutdowns, my heart started beating and my mind started racing. Do we have enough drinking water? Are the grocery stores shutting down? Do we have enough food? Am I going to be sick? What would happen to us financially?
Sure enough, people were on the same train of thought. By the time I got out of the office, multiple grocery stores had already been wiped clean of essentials. Nick wasn’t too worried, but I was. Instead of my usual use of the word “sorta,” I told him “I need to go to the grocery store.” I was putting my foot down just for the sake of my sanity and my family’s security. He later on told me that he was proud that I asserted what I wanted to do, or else he would argue that I’m probably just worrying too much. I wasn’t worried about toilet paper or hand sanitizers, though. That would be me on a meltdown level.
IT Pranks
Our company had predicted this would happen as soon as it came out. Rolling out contingency plans and forming COVID-19 task forces, by the time we reached the middle of March we managed to get into Phase 3 uncomfortably prepared. School districts in the entirety of Pennsylvania had closed as well as others around the country. We are worried about payroll, but it’s such a gem to be in a company who was willingly cutting funds on non-essential expenditures (and even forestalling a purchase of a new building) to avoid layoffs. A small comfort.
On the other side of the spectrum, minimum wage workers in the service industry are left to fend for themselves. On the even further side of the spectrum, people stand shoulder to shoulder waiting for public transportation for three to four hours just to get to work or back home because their employers couldn’t afford to provide leave with pay during the pandemic.
For someone who used to live in the Philippines, I can’t imagine having the same lock down “comforts” that I “enjoy” here in the US if I still lived back there. Granted, I imagine I would be hunkered down at my parents’ place with a refrigerator full of food and passing the time away playing video games. Working from home however, despite being a writer, would be out of the question. I see my former co-workers’ Facebook posts about still taking the trains to their offices, photos which showed reluctantly gathered people trying to fight their way into jeepneys and metro rails. I would probably have no income during a shutdown like this. And what then, when all the food in the fridge runs out? I can’t eat my K/D ratio to survive. I’d soon be among the people who have been suffering first in line out of sheer government incompetence and out-of-touch leadership.
I can’t help but think about how informal workers, the vendors who sold me street food or the tricycle drivers who helped me to get to places where I needed to be, are faring in this crisis. These people don’t have paid leave or even insurance whatsoever. They live day by day with whatever they can fill in their pockets. Now that everyone is in quarantine, I wonder where they are? Most of them live in informal settlements which are cramped to the bone. How are they able to isolate themselves when they can’t have their own space?
Their experiences are not mine but it is good to keep their experiences in mind. These facts are sobering. Are there really humans out there who are so out of touch with reality, so deep in their internalized domination, that they forget their humanity? Are humans reliant on their basic instinct to think that the natural order of things include the haves and the have nots? Are we going to say “Oh that’s just natural selection at work” because some people have the advantageous environment to survive this pandemic while others don’t?
What can we do?
Amidst the positive social media posts of young people offering to assist the elderly in their grocery shopping, teachers holding virtual classrooms for students, and musicians playing classical music on building rooftops, people are still suffering. They don’t care about the lack of toilet paper in grocery stores or the slow internet connection they have to share at home. Their concerns are health access and finances for food. My definition of true panic is nothing compared to what economically disadvantaged groups are going through.
Bleakly, this pandemic has brought out the worst in us: It’s still every man for himself. Most of us have become the selfish and opportunistic characters in zombie movies. Have we already forgotten that although they survived for a time, they didn’t last the apocalypse?
While I sit in a comfortable living space, getting paid to work at my house fully stocked with food, awaiting a hiring freeze to thaw in order for me to do my dream job full time, there are people out there wondering if they are going to make it at the end of the day.