- Jessica Bern is a writer who has worked at a Trader Joe's supermarket in New York City for about five months.
- There's a sense of urgency among shoppers because of the coronavirus crisis, but many have come up to thank Bern and her coworkers for being there.
- "Deciding between paying your bills or gambling with your life is not something I thought I would ever have to do, and yet here we are," she writes.
- She's most worried about senior shoppers, who seem frightened and intimidated.
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When Washington was having its first reported case of COVID-19, I stood at the cash register as a woman who looked to be in her late 20s to early 30s approached me, carrying a bag of chips, guacamole, and a salad. "Is this your apocalypse shopping?" I asked her teasingly. "I know, right?" she replied. We then continued on to talk about the world's obsession with Trader Joe's cauliflower gnocchi and other more pressing topics.
After her, another customer came up to me with a cart full of stuff - same age as the last woman, with me using the same approach. This time, she said, "Yes!" while laughing, with a bit of embarrassment. "Some of my friends have been telling me I need to do this, so I am." I then proceeded to joke with her about what items she considered necessities and the fact that nowhere in the cart was a package of toilet paper, a bottle of water, and nothing from the frozen section.
I have worked at Trader Joe's for almost five months.
I work anywhere from 30 to 38 hours a week. I've been in contact with people of every age, demographic, ethnicity, and culture, from Australia, Europe, Asia and everywhere in between. Trader Joe's isn't just a grocery store, it's a destination. We've had people tell us they looked up our products and put us on their Places to Visit list prior to leaving their home country. As is our custom, a crew member always rings the bell loudly when we find out it's a person's first visit to our store. It's our "welcome to the family" salute.
And that is how it went, until it didn't.
As of this writing, there have been at least 1,374 diagnosed cases of the coronavirus in New York and 644 in New York City alone. Twelve people with COVID-19 have died in the state, which has the largest number of confirmed cases in the country. (Editor's note: New York state has since reported 3,086 cases and 20 deaths; the latest numbers are being updated in real-time.)
There are now times I wonder if I should go to work at all.
Deciding between paying your bills or gambling with your life is not something I thought I would ever have to do, and yet here we are. The Trader Joe's lines - which can be very long on an average day - have now, at times, gotten even longer. Still we work very hard to get customers in and out, while telling them about our Buffalo Chicken Dip and what cracker goes best with our Blueberry Goat Cheese Roll.
While my family is thrilled I'm working, they worry - but they have not suggested I quit.
I come from a long line of fatalists who truly believe when it's your time, it's your time, with a large dose of neurosis tossed into the mix (which makes for a very unique mindset and is an ongoing topic of conversation with my therapist).
My coworkers seem to have the same sense of fate as my family, and we have often used humor to disperse any sense of worry. On a busy day, people will load up their cart and then decide they've had enough, they can't wait in the checkout line, and they'll just abandon everything in it and leave. This takes time out of our day to put the food back on the shelf and remove the perishables. As many have said, moments like this bring out the Titanic character within us all. Are we going to dress up like a woman so we can get on a lifeboat? Are we going to kick someone off just to secure a place for ourselves? Will we allow someone else the chance to survive and risk our own lives in the process?
It's impossible not to worry.
I've been staying away from my elderly parents for weeks, and out of caution don't socialize with any friends right now. When I walk in my home, I remove all my clothing and have begun putting them in a plastic trash bag separate from my other laundry. I live 38 blocks away from my job and now leave even earlier and walk to work, for fear of public transportation and exposing myself even further. (This was confirmed for me when a man standing three feet away on his cell phone sneezed and laughed it off when I immediately stood up and walked to the front of the bus.)
The most difficult part is seeing the worried looks on the faces of our seniors.
It's been said over and over that the elderly are the most susceptible to the disease and thus more likely to die as a result. One woman in her 80s told my coworker that she was scared.
In the last couple of weeks, there are mornings where we have had long lines form outside, before we even open our doors. In busier times, we allow only a few people in at a time to maintain a semblance of social distancing. If we see someone who is elderly or disabled we bring them to the front and escort them inside in order to get them in and out as quickly as we can. We know they are frightened and intimidated. When this pandemic began, it's like they weren't even being seen.
Lately, I am often so moved by the customers who take the time to come up to me and thank us for being there. They seem genuinely concerned and I am touched by their inquiries into my well-being and those of my co-workers.
There has been a sense of urgency and tension permeating the store.
As an employee, it's been hard not to carry that burden on my shoulders. Having always been an empath on steroids, the anxiety can be overwhelming. The other night, I was so exhausted from the stress of it all, I left work early. I can't help but care that people need to be fed, but I've reminded myself - and have been reminded by the management - that we're all doing the best we can and that has to be good enough.
We have no masks but we're now allowed to wear gloves, and we wash and wash and wash our hands. I'm grateful to Trader Joe's that they have taken great measures to reduce the risk to our health and safety. But like everyone else, I'm isolating when I'm not working and hoping and praying we finally see a light at the end of the tunnel.
Jessica Bern has written for The Girlfriend, The Woolfer, Honeysuckle Magazine, Slackjaw, and SheKnows. One of her essays also appears in an anthology entitled, "We Got This, Solo Mom Stories of Grit, Heart, and Humor," which includes pieces by such well-known authors as Anne Lamott and Amy Poehler.