BATSHIT CRAZY

Gigger with holes in her shoes.

It might not be the point of view by all but certainly some, and more than She could have ever imagined.

It was November of 2019, she was in a bad place, illness befalling her stress-based lifestyle. One delivery too many, not enough in too much out, her car was failing, her efforts falling to the wayside. She returned from another frantic seventy-hour week, showing little to none for her efforts. The industry was saturated. The same as what happened to the ride-share industry. An abundance of players, many merely part-time, consuming spoils from those brief busy periods, all now a waiting game. Some days waiting for more than an hour and a half before she ever earned her first delivery. This day the power was out. Electric service shut-off due to her nonpayment. Her son, waiting, in the dark, quiet and without judgement. She brightened the mood with a joke and a plan, as is her way. They deliberated and considered the possible solutions, none would restore the service immediately, but they tried. The next day they partnered to make the most of what they had to work with and the ability to deliver food was expedited by a co-pilot who guarded the car with hazard lights on and a sweet front door spot for all of the deliveries for the next several weeks.

Not enough money was coming in to cover the daily expenses of gas, and meals, and auto repairs. It was time to ask for help, a process that likened itself to that of an attempt to obtain citizenship. She divulged all their deepest most personal financial details, identity, earnings, and expenses. An approval might take weeks and so they lived in solitude, without any service of electricity, it was illuminating, it gave a place of solitude which served as a peaceful retreat from the daily drudgery. She taught her son how hard it was for her to earn an income, her son was enlightened, aware, because of the darkness. Breaks spent in any quick stop that offered free phone charging stations and internet service. They were able to get by using well-known stops with her favorite times and locations, finding herself among others, she scanned the sea of faces who too sought shelter.

They absorbed these days and soon the days were spent, a new phase, the lights were restored. They were uncomfortable, they understood the value of the service in an open-minded way that looked more like appreciation and gratitude that mere unappreciative consumption of resources taken for granted.

December was very difficult, in anticipation of great tips, expressions of gratitude, but rather the mood was solon, deep looming, a foreboding darkness covered the December 2019 landscape, as if the earth knew of the plague that would soon cover the globe. The days were long, the tips were few and gratitude flowed in their hearts. Foregoing traditional holiday celebrations, the goal was one of arriving in 2020 as if that would make it all better.

She had work lined up for the new year. New opportunities, fair wages and respected employment. Slated to begin training in the first week of April, she occupied her time working as a delivery driver part of the time and as an educator two days in a week. Finally using her skills, she taught a coding class to elementary aged children.

It was early February, there were rumors that the deadly pandemic had reached the shores. She began the process that she had mentally prepared for called the zombie apocalypse action plan. It was clothing intended to shed from outside pathogens and a supply run that included all those products that would soon be gone from shelves nationwide. She hunkered down in the third week of March, practicing self-isolation and social distancing, her neighbors found her to be odd.