Plague Diary, Day 1: 3/14/20

This is the kind of shit real writers write, right? Might as well give it a go.

My day job shut down its public operations on Thursday and ended onsite work for nonessential personnel yesterday. It’s appreciated. I’m not super worried about catching something in the cube farm, but the train I have to ride every day to get there is about as clean as a Republican senator’s tax returns. I can do ninety-nine percent of my job in my underwear on the couch anyway. Hopefully an extended period of successful remote work will prove to employers that dragging everybody into the office every damn day isn’t necessary and, frankly, kind of insulting.

There were no goodbyes on the way out. Everyone exchanged awkward but pleasant “See ya!”s. I don’t understand why so many are treating remote meetings as a novelty worth joking about. People in other industries have been working that way regularly for years.

Leaving was odd, but I’ve had a few last-days-at-work in my career so it wasn’t particularly jarring or unsettling. The thing that really hit me–for as silly as this is–was tuning in to WWE Smackdown. Triple H’s opening speech prior to the crowd-less show in the Performance Center was both reassuring and a total “fuck, now it’s real” moment. I’ve been watching this crap since before I could spell. Seeing it in that state last night was a reminder that our institutions endure, but also that everything is going to be a little different for a few weeks because some asshole decided to make bat nuggets his afternoon snack.

What else?

Donald totally has the virus, but even if he tests positive they won’t tell us. He could die of that shit and they’d simply announce that he’s “Making America Great Again from a secure location!” and then his corpse would somehow win reelection.

The stock market rising after the President of the United States of America declared a State of Emergency is utter bullshit. I’m trying to short the shit out of several things and I am annoyed–but maybe this is a good opportunity to load up on more things I think are about to drop. In one of the finest shitbag heel moves I’ve ever seen, Donald sent a signed photo of yesterday’s Dow chart to his supporters.

Bidet sales are soaring as suburbanites stock up on Cottonelle so they’ll have something to eat while quarantined.

Major League Baseball is supposedly leaning toward tacking any cancelled games onto the end of the season, which is fantastic for those of us who’ve always wanted to watch the World Series on Christmas Eve but seems pretty dumb otherwise.

I hope all the local furniture magnates are self quarantining. Bob, Bernie and Phyl, and Barry and Elliot are all getting up there in age and it’d suck to lose any of them.

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