By John Fraser
I get a lot of dirty looks when I go shopping, But that’s better than getting just one dirty C-19 germ.
You see, I don’t want to catch this killer virus, and if I am already carrying it, I really don’t want to infect anyone else.
Yet it seems I am in a minority.
Walk into most stores and supermarkets, and it is virtually impossible to keep a safe distance from staff and other customers.
True, they will spray your hands with sanitiser when you enter the emporium, but that ain’t going to help when somebody coughs ferociously. While standing right next to you.
Staff huddle in clusters near the tills. In both Woolworths. and Checkers I have run out of fingers on one hand when making a tally of members of the same group of anti-social non-distancers.
Adjacent tills are opened up, instead of spacing the cashiers, and it is impossible to pass through the checkout without getting dangerously close to the packer. or the person on the neighbouring till.
Hence my fear of the myth of the mask.
Customers and staff alike seem to believe that if they have a bit of fabric over their face, they will be fine. Not so.
There is some protection – much, much better than nothing.
But you are playing Russian roulette with your own life and with the lives of others if you over-rely on any mask. An ostrich with its head in the sand may feel safe. And yet most of those I encounter make ostriches seem like Mensa members.,
Which is why I use my trolley as a weapon, to keep the pox-ridden hordes at bay.
I switch aisles if it looks unsafe – and try to avoid shelf-stackers, who show little or no understanding of the concept of social distancing.
I shout at people if they look as if they are coming too close.
More than once I have been told how rude I am.
I would rather be rude than stupid. And dead.
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