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Way back in the early days of quasi-lockdown, when living exclusively in sweatpants still held some novelty, my home state of Massachusetts unveiled a four-phase reopening plan. In phase one, select nonessential business could start operating again, and in each proceeding phase, restrictions on gatherings loosened, until we arrived at our “new normal.”
There weren’t a lot of details about what a “new normal” would look like, except that it couldn’t begin until a vaccine or therapy had been developed to “effectively treat Covid-19.” Well, here we are. Vaccines have been approved and are being shipped to states. Unfortunately, the process has been riddled with tragic errors. This week, Massachusetts’ vaccine sign-up website crashed right when it was supposed to start accepting new appointments. Last week, in an effort to take advantage of a “companion program,” people started posting weird Craigslist ads offering money and other services to elderly folks, for the honor of driving them to an appointment.
Unsurprisingly, Gov. Charlie Baker admonished those who were trying to game the system. His scolding follows a pattern we’ve seen from our horrible leaders throughout the pandemic: enact bad policy, and then when things go poorly, place the blame on individual behavior.
It’s been nearly one year since the start of our Covid hell, when public spaces were shuttered and we were exiled to our homes. We’ve lived through multiple variants of stay-at-home orders, and now, we’ve arrived at a seeming standstill. Life is carrying on, but at a severely reduced rate. You can’t go out and dance, but you can dine at a restaurant—provided you find one that’s still open. Business across the hospitality and retail industries are way down, but commerce is still happening. Everybody is just limping along. Most people in my social orbit seem to live some semblance of a normal life on the weekends, at least according to their Instagram pages. They go to brunch and beer gardens; they travel to ski slopes and cozy getaways. Even though there’s way more virus in the country today than there was last spring, the shame of socialization is gone—as long as you don’t post about that rave party in Puerto Vallarta.
So, we’ve arrived: the “new normal.” We are doing some of the activities we used to enjoy, without most of the fun and spontaneity, and no timeline for when those things will return. All the while, we are numb to the death tolls: 2,620 on Thursday, another 2,471 on Wednesday. The numbers elicit a giant shrug.
Is this what our future entails?
The springtime was all about hyper-vigilance. Everyone was scrubbing groceries and washing their hands raw. We were told to stay home, in order to flatten the curve and save the hospitals. It made sense. Then the goal posts shifted, and frankly, they haven’t stopped moving. Now, Dr. Fauci tells us life may start to feel normal again in 2022—well, kind of.
“Hopefully, by the time we start entering 2022, we really will have a degree of normality that will approximate the kind of normality we've been used to,” he told the LA Times this week.
Hmm … a “degree of normality that will approximate the kind of normality we've been used to.” So it doesn’t sound like I’ll be dancing shirtless at A-House this summer, or even taking off my mask at the grocery store.
I’m well aware there are greater tragedies than lost nights out, and believe me, I’m happy to wear a mask for as long as it’s advisable. But here’s the thing: the longer we stay in this perpetual state of distancing, the more our world is going to completely disappear. According to the fine folks at McKinsey Global Institute, 20 percent of business travel will never come back, and about 20 percent of workers will end up working remotely indefinitely. That means fewer jobs in restaurants and hotels, fewer thriving downtown businesses, and fewer people working period. We’ve lost at least 10 million jobs over the last year. Millions of them aren’t coming back.
For those at the top, this may not matter all that much, and in fact, they probably don’t even notice. Take the phenomenon of ghost kitchens. By one industry estimate, there are about 100,000 virtual kitchens operating in the U.S., existing solely as icons on apps like DoorDash and GrubHub. These generic-sounding restaurants—Craftsman Burgers, Pizza of New York—look like any other establishment on the delivery apps. Except, they aren’t real. They are just SEO-driven commissaries, existing solely for the purpose of takeout.
That’s where the dining market is going. Last year, the number of consumers using online food delivery services jumped from 1.17 billion in 2019 to 1.46 billion 2020. That is equivalent to 90 percent of the U.S. population.
Even with vaccines being distributed, the shift to virtual life continues to accelerate. It’s possible most in-person interactions may never return. Why meet for coffee when you can Zoom? Why go to a movie theatre when you can see the picture on HBO Max?
Think back to the start of the pandemic, when the concept of spending every waking minute in your house seemed completely asinine. And now, think about how normal it is. I can’t believe I used to actually spend, like, two hours per day going to the gym. How inefficient.
Instead, I’m tethered to my computer chair. Another part of our “new normal” is that people with jobs are working a lot more. Last year, employees spent 22 million extra hours on their primary job each work day.
As more people get vaccinated, the daily 9/11-like death totals will eventually dissipate. It looks like all schools should be open for in-person instruction this fall, though local officials and teachers unions continue to spar with one another.
But so much of our previous lives will be gone. Sure, there may no longer be a public health emergency, but if the office is closed, why leave your house during the workday? And if you’re not already out, why meet an acquaintance for a drink? At this point, most people are nothing more than Instagram avatars, anyway.
We’ve been told April could be “open season” for vaccines, and then that timeline was pushed to late May or June, and now, the White House is offering no predictions on when normalcy will return. Perhaps because it never will.
We are seemingly destined to forever be constricted to our quarantine circles, wearing joggers and no underwear along the way.
So true Alex. But I'll be seeing you soon, before next year that's for sure! XO