Maybe it's the slow grind of being in isolation.  Maybe it's the miserable weather.  I'm not really sure what it is, but my optimism for the what comes after this pandemic has worn away.

I wasn't coming into this with the idea that things were going to be great after this, but I had some hope we'd come out the other side with something better that what we went into it with.

It's only been six — seven? eight? — weeks, but I see now that was foolish.

The more I think about it, the more I see that we're going to come out of this with things just as they were before.

Take this brief column on CBC News, written by an anonymous 58-year-old grocery store worker.  In it, the woman describes the day-to-day grinding misery working the cash in a pandemic.

Because of restrictions and limits placed on items because of, you know, the state of the world, some people aren't able to buy as much as they might like of this or that.  So, those people will take it out on the cashier, the most visible of the staff, and also the least responsible for the state of things.

What is that like for our cashier?  Really bad, actually:

"You get talking with the other cashiers and ask, why are we are doing this?  Why are we risking our lives to get crapped on?"

"Yet the worst thing is knowing that others are safe at home, collecting their $2,000, while we get up, go to work, risk our lives and don't make nearly that much, even with the $2 per hour raise.  I'm supporting my whole household on my lousy 20 hours a week."

And that's the thing, isn't it?  While most of us are in the relative safety of home, stuck with the horrors of video calls and having to make our own coffee, much of the world is still out there working.  And here we are, complaining we can only get two sticks of butter at a time.

Ah, but don't worry, these grocery workers are the heroes of all this.  Occasionally customers will give her a Tim Hortons or McDonald's gift certificate.  This last line from her story nearly broke me:

"I actually had a lady today say to me, 'Wow, you guys realize you're going to be in the history books?  You'll be in the history books that when this horrific pandemic came, you were one of those cashiers that went to work and risked your life.' "

That's what we've offering people as reward, the promise of eternal glory as a faceless mass of people.  We seem to have contented ourselves as a society to call these people heroes and leave it at that.  What more do they need?

The cashier says she's got her daughter and two young grandchildren at home, and she's just trying to get by on 20 hours a week.  And this is the best we can do for her?  A $2 raise and the possibility of a meal or a snack now and then.  Maybe when it's all over, a tomb of the unknown cashier.

Ah, but let's check in on the corporate offices of our beloved grocers, shall we?

Metro Inc., one of the country's biggest grocers reported its quarterly earnings Wednesday.  The company saw its revenue jump year-over-year by 7.8 percent when compared to the second quarter last year.  Of the $287 million jump in sales the company saw, they attribute $125 million to the pandemic.

It's pathetic of us, of all of us.  Because this is the way of things.  The grocers and their shareholders see hundreds of millions of dollars roll in, and hand out paltry raises for everyone else.

Take this for an example, Anthony Longo, CEO of the eponymous Longo's grocery chain, talked to the Financial Post for a story on grocery executives spending time in grocery stores during the pandemic.  Longo says he's been making in-person visits to stores, and even helping stock the odd shelf, to buck up the staff while COVID-19 has been rampaging through the country.

"We do have quite a number of people who don't feel safe, and that's an issue in the industry," Longo told the Financial Post.  "We want people to know that it is safe.  I'm out there."

Of course, that's easy for Longo to say.  He's the head of the family that owns the business.  His time dipping in and out of stores to raise morale isn't being paid at $14 or $15 per hour or whatever the rest of the staff is.  He's an executive.  And he's not there, day after day, being exposed to the virus just to make a living.

The Post story has a few other examples of executives putting in some time on the ground.  And, sure, it's great a few sales executives returned to the store to work among the rest of the staff, but did they take a corresponding pay cut?  Heh.

I hadn't really intended going into this to make this just about grocery stores.  But they are so emblematic of the problems within our society, and lay bare how little we're willing to do to improve things for the person stocking the shelves or mopping the floors, filling our bags.

We could take a look at nurses and PSWs in hospitals and long-term care homes.  Or delivery drivers.  Or rent relief programs that give money directly to landlords.  Or any number of people still out there, still working, while many of us are in the safety of home.  Grocery stores are just one facet of the same shit-diamond.

We're trying to do just enough to keep them from being beaten entirely into the ground by unimaginable circumstances.  A few bucks an hour is all these companies are willing to give the workers that they rely on — that we all rely on — to get groceries out the door.  A Tim Hortons card here and there should keep them from the barricades.

And we seem okay with it.

So, when I say I've lost optimism, this is why.  The massive burdens we've always put on the working class have only grown with the spectre of illness and death hanging over the people keeping our society working.

We should do better by them, but we won't.  We never have.  Why would I have expected it to be any different?

Photo Credit: Toronto Star