Every customer is an exaggerated personification of my own shortcomings. When I’m overwhelmed, I snap. Or I crumble. Or I worry my cuticles bloody and raw. Facing these ghosts of tantrums past at my most vulnerable, when I feel both resentful and guilty to be employed, when I fear anyone could make me extremely ill (if not kill me), is one of the most difficult things I’ve ever had to do.
I thought this article was going to be genuinely about being treated like shit and insane people getting into fights over TP but nope.
I'm not sure how to empathize with this article. I don't think it's because I lack empathy. Which other service jobs are going to pay you if you get sick? You have fun at work, and your insecurities are your own fault. Graduate writing fellowship?
We look for opportunities to reclaim a bit of control over our destabilized lives. For some, that’s buying all the tuna and shelf-stable oat milk. For others, it’s making cashiers sanitize their hands yet again.
That's not control, that's PUBLIC HEALTH.