A Day in the Life: Working at a Grocery Store During the Pandemic

Summer 2020

The following story is connected with some of my previous stories. You can read them if you want more context, or just read this one. It’s up to you! Here are the others:

Between Two Worlds: Working at a Grocery Store During the Pandemic

The Other World, Part 1: Summer 2019

The Other World, Part 2: Orange Blossom Special

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“I read the news today, oh boy…”

-The Beatles

Break was over. My eyes switched from the grocery store break room’s clock and back to my journal. I just wrote, “This country broke my heart.” Then I closed the blue Steno book, which I titled, “Summertime and the livin’ ain’t easy.” I squeezed Purell in one palm, rubbed both hands and wrists ferociously, and put my mask back on. It was black and had a white imprint of the state of Massachusetts on it. I had a black polo on too, along with my old work pants. It was Johnny Cash chic.

I gazed at the break room TV, which was on CNN. Who the fuck had that idea? I glanced at the coronavirus death count, now a mainstay on the right side of CNN’s screen. It was currently situated alongside a clip of Donald Trump spewing a bucket of turds about how what was happening wasn’t a big deal and that people shouldn’t be concerned. The death count now equated to 40 9/11s and 2 Vietnam Wars. There are no memorials built for this yet and I don’t think there ever will be.

I pushed my chair out and stood up. “Fuck you, asshole,” I said to Trump’s image, putting my apron back on over my store polo and tying it with an angry knot. I didn’t care who heard me. I threw my cleared takeout tray of butter chicken in the trash, being careful not to touch the sides, sanitized again just in case, and kicked the breakroom door open with my black rubber clog so I wouldn’t have to use my hand.

My therapist recently talked to me about my anger. She said, “You care so deeply about things, and thank God, because we need people like you, but you’re yelling to the point where you lose your voice.”