When Frustration Boils Over
I think the biggest thing that makes this situation frustrating is the lack of a plan. I am certainly not the first person to express this frustration nor am I the most eloquent but it bears repeating. I understand that coronavirus is unprecedented, not because we haven't had pandemics before (even deadlier ones, in fact) but because this is the largest during a time where public health infrastructure is developed to the point of accommodating our society's compassion for saving lives (well, most of our society anyway). That doesn't excuse the lack of clear communication about what we're trying, what we're waiting for and what we think comes next. I need a haircut as much as any Karen and as I've asked to speak with the manager, it would be nice if the manager has some answers.
I know that this is possible. Rhode Island's governor Gina Raimundo has been holding daily briefings on the virus and has done so without speculating about the efficacy of injecting ourselves with Clorox even once. These briefings, which are heavy on science and clear language, have earned her a 76% approval rating because the communication has been decisive and obviously planned out—and this is for a governor who was America's most unpopular just month's ago. Lest you think that Rhode Island is so small it's easy to control a virus there (and you may even think that Rhode Island is not an island), you forget that America's smallest state is tucked between many of the epicenters of the outbreak, with visitors from New York, Philadelphia and Boston crisscrossing all the time. It's like being Poland in the 20th century, squeezed between belligerent nations, where poor leadership with no plan could be disastrous.
Massachusetts' Charlie Baker is enjoying a similar ratings bump for his clear-eyed, adult messaging. Mark DeWine, governor of Ohio, tweeted something so mature and upright that I had to check that it wasn't a parody account for things politicians should say but never do in 2020. There are numerous examples of leaders on all levels from both parties who can't tell the future but can tell the truth, which is what we're after.
A lack of that kind of information delivery is frustrating and, reader, the frustration got to me last week. Part of this is because I had a plan and the plan didn't work. I didn't get as much done as I wanted, I didn't accomplish the things I wanted to, little changes to my schedule and interruptions bothered me out of proportion to their disruption. My tireless father-in-law was over all week working on projects for the baby's nursery (which is my office for the moment) and the disruption knocked me all wrong, keeping me from getting into a rhythm and frustrating me beyond reason. This frustration was selfish, I lost total sight of the fact that he was helping us (which he was) and I took the aggravation that I couldn't work how I wanted, couldn't go to a coffee shop for that type of uninterrupted solidarity, couldn't look forward to the Cardinal game that night and couldn't even thank him by shaking his damn hand and passed it on to people who didn't deserve it.
This reached a ridiculous zenith on Friday on my way to give blood. I was already annoyed that my day was being interrupted once again when I reached the blood center for my appointment only to realize that I didn't have my wallet and ID, quarantine having broken my habit of automatically putting it in my pocket. This led to a profanity-laced drive back to the house in which I did not accept the part I played in the situation. "HERE I AM BEING A GODDAMN HERO," I screamed to myself. "GIVING MY LITERAL BLOOD TO THESE PEOPLE AND THEY CAN'T EVEN FUCKING TAKE MY WORD THAT I AM WHO I AM? WHO ELSE WOULD BE STUPID ENOUGH TO WASTE HIS DAY PUTTING A FUCKING HOLE IN HIS ARM EVERY EIGHT WEEKS? AND DO THEY EVERY SAY THANK YOU? [editor's note: they always do] NOT REALLY! IT'S ALWAYS 'WHEN'S THE NEXT TIME WE CAN SEE YOU AGAIN?' LET ME REGROW MY FUCKING BLOOD, YOU VAMPIRES. THIS IS JUST LIKE LAST TIME WHEN THEY SAID PLATELETS TAKE TWO HOURS BUT IT ACTUALLY TAKES TWO HOURS AND FIFTEEN MINUTES AND I GOT A FUCKING TICKET. NOT THIS TIME, IT'S GOING TO TAKE 30 SECONDS TO FILL THAT BAG TODAY BECAUSE MY BLOOD PRESSURE IS GOING TO MAKE IT COME OUT LIKE A FIREHOSE AT A CIVIL RIGHT MARCH. ALL FOR BEING A HERO!"
This mood mutated into a caustic brew of weird emotionality. While donating, I became miserable at the Price is Right on the TV at the blood center. It was clearly a rerun but it still bothered me that so many people were gathering en masse and having a good time. I even got incensed with a woman who kept bidding a dollar during the One Bid section, which is a noted dick move, though it became clear later, when she bid $599 on something after one of the other contestants had already bid $600, that she didn't know how the game worked. Then I got overwhelmingly sad when a woman failed to win a 2020 Kia Rio that I really wanted for her. I was a wreck.
The Price is Right, by the way, is the longest running show in television history, it's been on television so long that original contestants submitted their bids by postcard. That's not a joke, in the 50s and 60s, viewers would send in postcards with their guesses from home. Only 10 Plinko chips have been ever made (and only 5 have ever been used), which makes them some of the rarest things in American life, next to COVID-19 tests (see, that was a joke). There is something uniquely American about the Price is Right, from its obsession with money and consumerism, both in its prizes and in the mechanism of its games, its hopeless optimism and its sweet belief that a new car, though you have to pay taxes and you would never pick this 2020 Kia Rio for yourself, is just about the best thing you can offer someone. In some ways, the Price is Right is an idealized version of America. Cheating scandals are rife in American game shows but the closest the Price is Right has come to a scandal is when they gave a wheelchair-bound amputee a treadmill. The show is the distillation of the mixture of luck and meritocracy that make up the American dream, where you've got a shot as long as someone in charge tells you to come on down. No matter how many times I've seen this clip (and it's a lot), it never fails to thrill me. If you are reading this as part of your morning, please watch it, I can think of no better way to start your day.
Alas, the show did nothing for mood on Friday and I left the blood center still with a scowl on my face (covered though it was by a mask). I headed to the gas station with my Eeyore attitude in tact, simmering by the disruption to my day when my selfishness was slapped in the face by its antidote, the existence of another person.
"Your wife, she's pregnant, yes?" asked the woman behind the counter.
I blinked for a second, fazed that she could recognize me behind my mask. "Yes," I stammered.
"Has she had the baby yet?'
"No, not till June."
"That's wonderful," she smiled. "Tell her hello, hope you all are staying safe and have a great day."
My plans last week were disrupted and that's frustrating. The woman at the gas station probably had a plan too and it didn't include operating a gas station during a time when people are driving less, going out less and buying fewer items—all while oil prices are cratering. That woman could have sold me my Dr. Pepper Cream Soda and sent me on her way but she was kind when she didn't need to be. Kindness releases dopamine, a natural pain killer, making it a medical supply that can never run out and costs nothing to administer. It's likely that she forgot the interaction minutes after I left but it changed the trajectory of my day for the better. Kindness is also more contagious than any novel coronavirus. Liz told me that she had gotten to know this woman, who goes by Pinky, only because she noticed how often Pinky was ignored by customers who just want their smokes, or their lottery tickets or their Dr. Pepper Cream Sodas and she made sure to ask about her every time she shopped there. Those seeds bloomed for me months later.
This may seem like a silly story, a fairly basic customer service interaction that is not notable. But we are starved for human interaction and even small gestures can have a profound impact. I don't know why it was this interaction that took me out of my selfish fog but it made me realize that last week I was given free handiwork by a retiree who is diabetic and probably had different plans than stay separated from his family, working at a home where he can't even hug his grandson. Last week I even had donuts hand delivered by a restaurateur who has seen his plans completely upended and still I couldn't get out of my own head. This is to say nothing of the countless emails and responses I get from many of you that absolutely mean the world to me. I don't know why it took a stranger to put all those acts into focus but I think it was Gandhi who said "In a gentle way, you can shake the world." Just the same, I know that one gentle act made all the kindnesses I received in the previous seven days that more impactful.
Lastly, I also know that Rhode Island is, in fact, an island. Perhaps this is common knowledge, but I remember being told in school that it's not. In fact, the two things ten-year-old me "knew" about Rhode Island is that it's America's smallest state and it's not an island. This is wrong. The full name of the state is Rhode Island and Providence Plantations, which is not only a great band name, but describes the two parts of the state—the island of Rhode Island, where Newport is, and the landed part of Providence Plantations, where the capital Providence is located. Look it up, hope you all are staying safe and have a wonderful day.