A Waiter in the Pandemic

I like to cycle to work. I was used to not having that much Time to exercise at home, so I thought cycling to work was a good way to do it. So I got an electric bike, because, you know. To save Time.

(On an aside, pandemic has given us a gift that we all thought we had lost: Time. Very few have done anything with it, but this is a story for another time.)

I wear thermal underwear, gym trousers, a shirt and windbreaker. Because, it’s winter, you know. If it wasn’t for the cycling helmet I’d look ready to climb a mountain.

Thus I cycle to work. I reach my destination from the back (so no one can see that managers ride bikes instead of driving cars). I enter the changing room.

(Changing rooms in hotels deserve essays written about them. Who knows, maybe one day.)

So I get changed. Nice trousers, shirt that I have carefully ironed and even more carefully folded in a way not to crease during the half an hour journey. (‘Carefully’ is quite ironic, I admit, as I put the effort but the results are often… creased.) Polished shoes on (For ‘polished,’ please see above comment about ‘carefully’… it’s all about the effort). And then I tie my black tie, which I normally tie loosely beforehand because tying a tie when you are late is like trying to hang yourself. And finally, I am almost there, I put on my mask. Because it’s the pandemic, isn’t it. I protect myself and others.

I greet and swear (synonyms for some), at my colleagues, hide my bike and get the bar set and any other preparations needed. I am on my own serving food tonight because we are Tiered and I can barely serve food to myself. I am all ready, here we go, my first customer of the night…

… does not wear a mask. He approaches, he keeps approaching. He stands by the bar. Just the bar between us. And my mask. He talks to me, asks questions about the drinks. He leans forward, I instinctively step back (because Covid-19 has renewed our instincts both for the preservation of our genes and for suicide), I casually lean on a shelf behind me hoping he hasn’t realised I am escaping him. I nod while he talks for half an hour, without a mask, about herd immunity and Covid-19.

(I was not born in England, I came here as an adult. I never believed when I was told small talk in the country is mostly about the weather, talk about the weather and everything will be fine. Yeah, it’s damn true. But now there’s a new topic, Covid-19! Pity it was new almost a year ago. Why would I want to listen to the one subject everyone is talking about? What’s new? Do you honestly believe you are going to tell me something I haven’t heard already? Do you honestly know so much that you are allowed not to wear a mask because you know better? The pandemic has made arrogance sin number 1. Everyone is a doctor, a virologist and an economist!)

But I do get it. He is lonely. He has probably been away from his family for some days. Or maybe he has no family. But he is alone right now and I am the only human being around. In a while he is going to go to his room and see no one till the morning. I get that. Hospitality was all about experience and all that we are supposed to experience now is isolation. So I stay there deftly avoiding any spitting letters, Matrix-style. And I even manage to smile, because, you know, we can see your smile even if you wear a mask, sir.