“No. Stay right there. Don’t come any closer. What do you want?” I asked the question, directing my frustration at the man.
“I just need a dowel rod.” He answered, his lips quivering. This man is going to cry over a freaking dowel rod. I thought.
I had blocked off the aisle of the DIY hardware store. Denying him access to the items he sought. Before travel restrictions I was a manufacturer’s rep, servicing items in this establishment.
Considered an “essential business” I was angry that this company had tagged me as an essential supplier. So I was stuck. Don’t get me wrong I was happy to be working, but I felt frustrated that possibly my life or at the very least my health was being jeopardized by people who don’t understand what essential needs are.
Maybe the Governor should have been more clear as to what essential needs actually are. Food, fuel, medicine definitely. In this place plumbing and electrical supplies, sure. But dowel rods. Come on.
“How are dowel rods essential, man,” I screamed at him. “I’m not catching this thing for a stick, stay there until I’m finished. Forty five minutes then the aisle is all yours.” I returned to my work.
The man broke down completely. Fell to the floor and began sobbing.
“My mother is in ICU, they won’t let me in her room, the only way I can communicate is by signs and I thought I put it on a dowel so she could see it… I don’t… I…”
I just watched for a moment, stopped what I was doing and walked the box of dowel rods the length of the aisle and handed them to him. I apologized.
I guess someone should have been more clear on “essential items”. I blame the quarantine.
–Clarence Miller (Butch)