A Walk To The Edge
My personal showdown with Coronavirus, alone in a Midtown Manhattan hotel room
Sometime in February, stories began circulating of a mysterious illness originating in China. I remember hearing snippets about this new “Coronavirus” for the first time and shrugging it off. A virus spreading in a few cities in China? It seemed a world away. I don’t think any of us had any concept at that time of what truly lay ahead. Like a freight train barreling down the tracks, the speed and intensity of events that lead up to a nationwide Coronavirus outbreak — along with the subsequent series of crises it spawned in its aftermath — were simply breathtaking.
Suddenly, it was here in New York City. A 39-year-old woman had tested positive for the virus on the Upper West Side, the papers told us. Then there was a lawyer in his 40s, also in Manhattan. It just kept spiraling from there.
At the time, I was employed by a major grocery store chain in Manhattan. Our manager Jeremy called a store meeting. As team members sat perched on boxes, ladders or whatever makeshift seating we could find, Jeremy gave us specific instructions: we were not going to be allowed to wear masks, gloves, or any form of PPE, at any time. His rationale for this was that it “would be bad optics for the company” for customers to see employees wearing masks…
