By Mel Carriere
This topic is tired, I acknowledge. But the subject is still mutating, so I mutate along with it.
I recently wrote a longish article called "A Letter Carrier's Guide to the Corona Virus." I will post a link at the bottom here, in case you haven't read it.
If you haven't read it yet, and you decide to, you will probably be shaking your head as you go along, remarking what a dumbs**t I am. Although the article only came out a few days ago, it already seems obsolete. The information there is not completely relevant anymore.
In this week designed to reflect upon our sins and do penance for transgressions, I give you my humble mea culpa. If any of the particulars in that article are misleading, I apologize. I wrote it with the best of intentions, not for shock value, but to inform people, based on the most current data. But as it turns out, the things we know about coronavirus change daily, what was true yesterday is no longer true today.
One thing that has not changed, one thing we can rest assured will remain constant in this cruel, capricious Postal Universe, is that no matter what crisis rears its ugly head here, it will be reacted to badly, wrongly.
It is times of crisis like these where we see what our leadership is truly made of. We get to gauge their mettle under pressure, to find out if they are legitimate or just faking. To see if they are doers, or just talkers.
Sadly, my conclusion so far is that our leadership has been woefully lacking, from the top down. The powers that be saw the pandemic coming, and they tried to ignore it. It was banging on the door of the fiesta and they just turned the music up, hoping it would go away, so it wouldn't spoil the party.
Once they reluctantly acknowledged this ogre to be real, what was done about it? Were any measures swiftly put in place to ensure the safety of those who would be forced to go out into public while everybody else was hunkering down, sheltering in place?
As a microcosm of this sad state of affairs, I will now relate my own little slice of the big Postal pie, in regard to where the safety of letter carriers, clerks, mail handlers, custodians, etc. etc. world without end amen is concerned.
When I went to Costco on Sunday to pick up a few essentials, I saw a changed world. In contrast to the beginning of the shelter in place order, which had somewhat of a holiday atmosphere, people were now taking the thing seriously. It was starting to hit home. Almost everyone had a mask on, people were maintaining a six feet squared social distance, and nobody was lingering about in the store to browse. Everybody was getting their stuff quick, and getting out quicker.
Monday I returned to work after a few days off. I expected the gravity of the situation I saw in Costco on Sunday to carry over to my place of employment. The CDC had just announced they recommend wearing face masks in public, so certainly I was now going to be provided with the appropriate safety equipment.
Standing by the time clock, preparing to punch in, I looked around me at a spattering of face masks worn by my co-workers, mostly of the homemade variety, the kind you fashion out of a pair of old underwear, hopefully the most minimally-streaked skivvies found in the drawer.
After the supervisor sauntered over to the gathering five clicks fashionably late as usual, she read us the daily coronavirus update bulletin, this one emphasizing the recommended use of face coverings, as I mentioned a couple paragraphs above. The memorandum clearly stated that in the event that we don't have a face mask, we will be provided one.
I meekly confess that I don't have a face mask. During the rush to rescue goods from the hoarders, I was mega manly where it came to scoring toilet paper, pitifully poor in the face mask department. Truth is, I didn't really try to get any. Just about a week ago, I had listened to a lady from the World Health Organization on the radio who said that face masks were not recommended, and could in fact be dangerous, because they give people a false sense of security.
At the present, that recommendation has changed. The most current data demonstrates that the virus can be spread by asymptomatic individuals, meaning people that are carrying the bug but don't feel it. Therefore, the experts are now advising us to use face coverings, not so much to protect ourselves, but to protect others.
Accordingly, I accosted by supervisor for a mask, as instructed by the bulletin. I must say she reacted quickly, going into the office and fumbling frantically through some cabinets, only to come up empty.
The manager then walked in, wearing a gangster handkerchief over her mouth, like she was going to pull a heist once she got off work. "Do we have any face masks?" the supervisor asked her, with syrupy, but probably superficial sympathy to my situation.
The manager looked at her like she was the recipient of the dumbest question of the week award. "No, we're out," she said.
She then turned her bandanna in my direction. I flinched a little and reached protectively for my wallet. "Couldn't you get any?" she said, her tone indicating that I was a complete failure as a human being.
"Where am I supposed to get them?" I protested. "I ordered some on Amazon, but they don't get here until late May." By that time we'll all be dead, I thought but of course didn't say.
No satisfaction there. In retrospect, I realize that this was a big charade. My supervisor was only pretending to be worried about me, knowing damn well there weren't any masks in stock, just trying to point the finger away from her toward the manager. This is a typical example of the Postal redirect the blame school of leadership.
Okay, I am not unreasonable. I know that face masks are in short supply, but if other organizations are able to obtain them for their essential employees, how come we can't?
That same morning, I had gone into Circle K as usual, to buy my coffee. The two clerks there were both wearing surgical face masks. Not makeshift homemade ones, but the kind they equip hospital personnel with.
"Does the company provide those for you?" I asked. Enthusiastic nods of affirmation.
That afternoon at work, during my break I went into 7-11 for a Big Gulp. Again, the clerk behind the register was wearing a surgical face mask.
"Does the company provide that for you?" I asked. Enthusiastic nod of affirmation.
I walked away frustrated. Your neighborhood convenience store can commandeer safety equipment for its employees, but the biggest organization in the country cannot. AND WE'RE THE FRICKIN' FEDERAL GOVERNMENT!!!
No need to say more, for now.
More from Mel: A Letter Carrier's Guide to the Coronavirus
