Instacart has definitely been an interesting gig. For those not familiar, it’s a grocery delivery service where people can order groceries on an app and have someone deliver them to their door. It’s been nice to have a fairly low stress job after the rampant worry of coordinating a campaign. I am privileged to have a strong immune system, and it’s made me less scared than some other vulnerable populations to go to a busy grocery store with potential virus-carriers around.
Making hundreds of difficult phone calls a day turned into scanning cereal boxes and chucking them in a cart. I still drive all over Western Mass which makes me feel connected to the communities around me. Delivering groceries gives me that satisfaction that door knocking did, having a human interaction, someone being thankful that you came all the way to their door, because you want to help them on some level whether it’s discussing a candidate or bringing them a meal.
This position has simultaneously kept my mind busy with both tomato types and weights and my poetic subconscious. My storytelling voice will soak everything in and make an observation and I will pull over and write it down. But I have that struggle of “writing” better when the thoughts roam my head because once I go to physically write it down, all the internalized pressure begins to hit, scattering my previous thoughts. Although I’m trying to make writing my full-time job, having it as my side hustle at the moment gives me ample time to really think life through and make careful observations that will later impact my writing.
For example, the observations of a little boy dancing around a pepperoni stand made me giggle. “Why wouldn’t anyone love bacon?” and “It’s just a big bag of rice?” about the giant bags of rice so big you have to heap them over your shoulder. These moments of pure childhood are important because these little remarks bring us back to Earth, reminding us that we shouldn’t take life so seriously, albeit serious times call for serious demeanors. I see grocery stores as a level playing field because no matter who you are, you need to eat and therefore need to shop for food. I saw Alex Morse at the Holyoke Stop & Shop and had a celeb moment before remembering that he also gets hungry sometimes too.
So, in effect, there’s every different type of person present, and it’s comical. You have the people that will start talking to you even though you don’t know them, trying to get you to agree with their outrage at the lack of gluten free wheat thins stocked. Yeah sure Linda, I mumble. To be fair, sometimes these interactions can be warranted. Like the other day a guy had the lower part of his face printed on his mask, so it looked like he just had a botched face surgery and I just went, “Your mask freaked me out, man.” And we shared a masked laugh.
I noticed a woman who left her cart to block the aisle while she roamed in front of the deli section waiting for her order. Maybe I enjoy people-watching too much. In any event, that could never be me. I’m a tad claustrophobic, (I think it’s an anxiety thing, and it’s only gotten worse from Covid) so I perpetually look behind me, hyper focused on getting the furthest I can from anyone, when I’m searching for an item, moving my cart when someone approaches. My lack of assertiveness also doesn’t help getting around people in the grocery store. So, I just stand there and self-destruct while waiting. I’m also not super patient, so there’s that. I’ve always admired how unapologetically assertive my mother is. Why wasn’t that part of my genes?
While inhaling Gain-scented detergent in the laundry aisle, I remembered there’s a pandemic and no one should be sucking in any type of air especially in an aggressive fashion. Burping in my mask is another new phenomenon. Luckily, I haven’t been sneezing in it. That would actually suck. The new one-way aisles make for parades of complete strangers. Since you can’t go in a different direction to avoid people, you have to follow the person in front of you until you can get by. The third person in a six-person parade, I was giggling to myself when comparing this to what a real parade was supposed to look like. With a little sense of humor, we can all collectively laugh at what a shit show life has become.
After electing a State Senator, these expectations of myself from my own head started caving in. What is my next big move? I asked myself. And this is definitely not what I pictured doing. But looking back, I’ve gotten quite the kick out of it. A grocery delivery service job didn’t necessarily feel like shooting for the stars, but it maintains a paycheck and keeps the mind busy when the world appears to be in perpetual chaos.
This also isn’t exactly a time to be expecting the most out of anyone, including myself. We can’t expect the best out of life when every single aspect of it is complicated by imminent death. We have to wear a mask, frequently use hand sanitizer, keep six feet from others and so on. We can’t go to the bar and let loose with my friends like old times. There is a heightened fear of the gym since sweat equals germs. Seeing my friends in person isn’t often, and Facetime seems to be the new norm. We all know that nothing is the same and quite possibly won’t be the same again.
I have total survivor’s guilt from finishing school before the world of Covid, as schools have to make difficult decisions about the future. Red Sox and Celtics games have cardboard cut outs instead of fans. There is a whole new tension that is ever-present in the air. My point is, due to the unforeseen circumstances, adversaries, challenges, whatever you want to call it, we need to be kind to others and ourselves about the seemingly lack of progress we’ve made over these months. Because it’s hard to keep going when there is little to look forward to. This is a time that I’ve spent searching long and wide for the little joys, and being thankful for the good health and financial stability of family, friends and myself.
Due to my tendency of being extremely critical of myself, I must acknowledge that bringing groceries to a resident who has lung cancer, or delivering to a mother juggling a job and a toddler is a job to be proud of. It is vital to remember that I am not above a service job just because my qualifications are above par., Helping people is a job that will always be meaningful. Just because I’m simply going through the motions and not doing as much thinking as campaign strategizing, doesn’t mean I’m not doing my best.
While I continue to look for another job that will look more attractive on a resumé, I do feel good about serving my surrounding communities. I think about all the overjoyed appreciation from the other side of the door when they see me carrying their eggs and milk. That, the time I have available to write, and my support system is what has kept me afloat. If you aren’t meeting all the goals you set out for on New Year’s Eve, this is me telling you that it is okay. Life is not normal anymore. We are all just trying to quite literally survive. I thought sharing my own personal struggles at the moment would help others to open up or feel less alone. My inbox is always open for a listening ear.