Shopping in ghost town

I broke isolation today. I thought it was going to be a little treat, a little bend of the rules so I can get

ready for Gid’s birthday. I won’t be doing it again anytime soon. I went to a big box store so I could

do everything in one stop, I went armed with a face mask and gloves; hand sanitizer at the ready.

There were several people in the parking lot, not a single person with PPE on, not a mask in sight. I

admit the pressure to conform was immense, and I wish I could say I’m above such things, that I

was brave enough to stand out. But I couldn't. I left my mask and gloves in my bag. Wearing a mask

made everything feel too real, like overreaction, like panic. 

As I entered the store there was a twenty something employee washing down all the shopping carts.

I locked eyes with him, he smiled and pointed to a row further down that he had already finished. I

thanked him, grabbing my cart and turning to the only open door, the others having been blocked to

better control the flow of people. 

I’m used to shopping in the early morning when there are few other shoppers around, but entering

the space was surreal. Everything was quiet. There was the typical muzak played on a loop all day

long, but nobody was talking, or if they were it was in the hushed tones reserved for hospice visits.

Nodding and smiling while they quietly backed away, making space for you, using their cart as

protection against an invisible monster that could be lurking behind every greeting. 

I moved away from the groceries, past the pharmacy that was pocketed with empty shelves,

vitamins having been emptied almost completely, and pain relievers down to the more specialised

lesser used varieties. Past the pads and tampons which , surprisingly, were still stocked in

abundance.  I start scanning the toy aisle for birthday presents that could possibly make up for the

fact that my son can’t have a birthday party full of actual school friends, or even dinner with

grandparents. The puzzles are gone, every last one, I laughed out loud. I’ll admit I thought I might

pick one up myself. I guess not. Whilst trying to pick out a lego set that will ultimately fall short of

actually replacing the party, but will hold Gid’s attention, a Woman tentatively approaches my bubble,

she’s looking for the puzzles. We share a human moment, adjusting to the new normal. 

Having picked out my mom guilt overcompensation presents, I move off again. I need paper towel.

Well, need is a strong word, I would like paper towel. There are very very few people here, and most

of them are employees stocking shelves. The employees avoid customers, but not each other.

Some at least attempt to keep a reasonable distance from each other, but many stand in clumps of

two or three chatting as they work, I imagine they’re bored out of their minds. 

When I do run into another customer we play a game of distancing ourselves without looking like

we’re avoiding or insulting the other, It’s a delicate dance.  Oh look down this isle, a thing I don’t

need, but look at that packaging! Then when they’ve passed resuming my original path to whatever

I can still find on the shelves.  Amazingly there are two options for paper towel! A two pack and a set

for life pack. There are signs everywhere limiting my purchasing options further to one package per

purchase. I stand there debating how badly I actually want this paper towel, and if I would look like a

hoarder if I buy the big pack, when a man my grandfather's age pulls up next to my cart. He looks at

my assortment of toys and feminine hygiene products like he’s determined to seek out the hidden

hoards of bathroom supplies I have buried beneath the lego. He didn’t even attempt to be subtle, he

was single handedly keeping society going by making sure I didn’t take more than my allowance . I

grabbed my two pack and quickly moved on, his hoarding prevention was on point, but his social

distancing left a bit to be desired.

Getting closer to groceries there were more people, and the level of anxiety in the air increased. It

was palpable. Or maybe it was just me? Maybe they were covid deniers who didn’t bother with the

new safety routines. Did that man just wipe his nose on the back of his hand? Do I really need

frozen chicken strips? There are already three people in the freezer aisle, maybe I'll double back.

  shit , she’s right in front of the crackers and I can’t get around. I wait by the end cap until she

moves on. I grab extra granola bars so my kids won’t have to eat the kinds they don’t like. I move

around with increasing anxiety, I wish I had my mask on, why are these people standing so close to

me? (they aren’t) I manage not to cry as I enter produce. My eyes dart from carrots to onions,

peppers to lettuce, Jesus why did I come to this store? I shove carrots, broccoli, and peas into my

cart , giving the person filling the bins a wide berth. I take my permitted two loaves of bread and

book it to the tills. I pass a woman in a face mask and gloves, shit, I wish I had worn my mask. Lady

where were you when I needed strength? There are maybe a dozen people in the store.

The tills have tape on the floor in front of them demonstrating proper social distancing. I’m the third

person in line and a good twenty feet from the cashier.  We shift around to give a woman room to

double back enough to grab a chocolate bar without getting too close. A man my age apologises as

he passes, forced into cutting through the line that is socially spread out. He looks genuinely

apologetic for entering my space.  I compulsively use my hand sanitizer. It’s my turn and the cashier

is uncomfortably close, I move past her quickly and make sure I don’t come within arms reach of

her. They don’t have tap...I compulsively use my hand sanitizer. I’m done, I’ve overspent, this

happens when I'm stressed. 

I get in the car and have a small frustrated cry. The parking lot is mostly empty, the store was mostly

empty. Being out was a shock of reality, it was no better or worse than I was expecting, but I wasn't

prepared for it.  Shopping was incredibly lonely, more so than being home. We were all just specters

wandering around in our little bubbles trying to pretend we weren’t surrounded by other ghosts

doing the same. I compulsively use my hand sanitizer.