By Gason Feist
Senior, English/Film Studies, IUPUI
Two days into Spring Break, my phone blows up with messages from friends. “Hey, have you heard? We’re getting kicked out.” The next morning, knowing it won’t be long before my IUPUI apartment is off limits due to the COVID-19 pandemic, I race from my parents’ home in Columbia City to Indy and grab some essentials. My other stuff still awaits me when IUPUI Housing lets me return.
The eviction-style exodus puts my tutoring job in jeopardy. How am I going to assist high schoolers when I am 150 miles away? Online of course! However, I hadn’t thought of that. So, at the time, my mind panicked and I reached out to an old boss, Connor, who owns a
small landscaping business. (Is landscaping even an essential service?)
Within a matter of days, I had a new job and a new temporary home with my parents.
Instead of living in the bustling heart of Indianapolis, I get to spend time in the country air I’ve long been away from.
Working outside keeps me in shape, gives me a superb farmer’s tan, and lets me see Sam, an adorable farm dog. Working in landscaping during the pandemic is also safer than many jobs I can think of because I’m away from public places and people.
Well, except for Connor and a coworker, David. And this is where the concerns start. We are depending on each other to stay healthy and vigilant.
I handle the virus with extreme caution, like I believe everyone should. I don’t go to public places and am only in close proximity with the members in my house. They, too, do not go anywhere other than on the occasional grocery run. Like coworkers, individual family members need to be cautious to protect the entire family unit.
David is germ savvy and does not take many risks with COVID-19, if any at all. He believes in the danger the virus poses towards society, especially when he is in a truck with two other dudes. Then there is Connor.
Before I recount the tales of Connor’s ignorance towards COVID-19, let me clarify that he is a great boss and person in general. He buys his workers lunch for working in bad weather, works with his employees rather than commanding them, and values his family above anything else. Plus, he sent me an unexpected, hefty Christmas bonus after quitting some five months prior. What a guy.
From what I can tell, Connor understands the seriousness of the virus to hurt and kill people but doesn’t consider it a serious threat in our rural town. This is not to say he is marching on the courthouse lawn and protesting (what is wrong with people?); he simply believes his isolation in the country helps protect him. But what about others?
Connor thinks that all people at risk should be isolated and the country should continue as normal. The government seems to have it wrong. But, who will take care of those at risk?
His main point of contention against the way the government has handled the pandemic is how people have been prevented from working. According to him, unemployment and the stimulus is promoting people to not work. Connor has been a hard worker all his life and has no tolerance for laziness (I should know). Connor’s view seems most aligned with how many conservatives seem to feel.
It seems, from my understanding and with news about people protesting, that many Americans believe in their civil liberties, regardless of a worldwide epidemic. A man’s commitment to honest work is a central cornerstone in Connor’s belief system. Specifically, Connor wants to see the economy return to normal, as do I and many, but at what cost for human lives? When confronted about the death toll in Indiana due to COVID-19, Connor reversed the question to how many die of the regular flu.
When going to a job in the past, Connor would always stop at a gas station and get his fizzy fix of Diet Mtn Dew. Now, to my surprise, the first time we went to work this season, what happened? He pulled the truck into a gas station, hobbled out, and got his Mtn Dew. And. He. Never. Washed. His. Hands. I could see him the whole time from the windows. That is so much unnecessary risk, so many surfaces he touched.
Seeing him slurping his 32 ouncer, I wanted to say something but could not find the strength. I could tell David was uncomfortable, too. When David and I were alone, I voiced my concerns.
“Oh yeah,” David said, “He’s been doing that for a while now.”
David and I started calling his gas station drinks “corona cups” or “plague mugs.” There is something American, I think, about making jokes during a serious moment. Or maybe it’s just acceptance of death.
Connor also gets carry out (something I am against) and continues to stop at gas stations for lunch and cookies. While he says he’s healthy and isn’t afraid about getting the virus, he does not seem to grasp that passing it to other people is where the danger lies.
To make matters worse, his father is in his seventies with lung issues and I’ve seen them in close proximity together at Chad’s workshop. My parents are approaching 60. With my family taking this crisis seriously, I would hate to deliver sickness upon our doorstep via Connor.
Connor continues to act mostly normal among the threat of illness and death.
I continue to be nervous around him. I can’t wait to move back to Indy after this pandemic dies down but trying to find a job as a graduate student is a whole other issue entirely. I should say if− if it gets better anytime soon.
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