It goes down kind of the way you expect a drug deal would — except the lookout is a big woolly sheep standing on the right side of the car, watching you intently the whole time.
You’ve been told to head down a road knee-deep in light-brown, soft spring mud. You’ve already driven 100 kilometres out of St. John’s down small enough roads that you haven’t seen another car for 20 minutes. Stop near the barn.
“When you arrive on the farm, please remain in your vehicle and blow your horn. Open your trunk/tailgate and we will then bring out your order,” the instant message reads.
No one says don’t get out of the car or look around. There’s no warning not to make eye contact with anyone. But it feels like that’s implied.
The money’s already sent by e-transfer. You do as you’re told. The “order” is put in the back, the hatch slammed shut. You drive away.
Reality is different, though.
Another part of the instant message gives away the reality of people and businesses trying to get by in troubled times: “We are following social distancing protocol so we can continue to offer this service. For the safety of everyone involved we ask that if you are feeling unwell, or have travelled outside the province in the last 14 days to please send someone else to pick up your order or postpone pickup.”
It’s all about adaptation to new circumstances — a farming business can’t sell meat with the St. John’s Farmers Market closed, so it’s adapting with no-contact pickups.
Smart.
And those adaptations are showing that people can at least try to do something. In St. John’s restaurants are doing their best to switch to no-contact deliveries, sending out menu options on social media. In west-end St. John’s, a butcher shop lets you order by email, and then stay in your car for a no-contact pickup.
In a small way, it’s showing the great flexibility humans have, even (or especially) in hard times.
On a larger scale, a hockey equipment company is producing much-needed face shields for hospital personnel — “We’re repurposing our production facilities to make face shields so that medical professionals battling COVID-19 can safely continue to help those most vulnerable,” Bauer says on its Facebook page. “Right now, we’re all playing for the same team.”
A vacuum cleaner company, Dyson, has reportedly designed a new and simple medical ventilator to help shore up the kind of equipment shortages that have cropped up pretty much everywhere COVID-19 has overrun the supply of equipment. Beer companies and distilleries are making hand sanitizer.
All of those things just seem so logical — though (I know, I’m making light in a serious time) are some patients going to be jealous because they don’t have a Dyson?
In a small way, it’s showing the great flexibility humans have, even (or especially) in hard times. Couple that with the humanity that many people have shown in these trying times, and it’s a recipe for hope — and for critical change, once the pandemic is under control.
Adapt, change, move forward.
Not everything works. None of it is perfect. Plenty of solutions don’t allow access for everyone, especially for those with limited transportation options and those who have no money coming in. But even those on the edges of society, and their needs, are being recognized and addressed in ways they weren’t, even a few short weeks ago when life was ordinary and, well, normal.
In the muddy farmyard, I back up and turn around. The sheep trots away.
Soon, I’m back at home without ever having made direct contact with anyone, back to the four walls I — and I’m sure everyone else — am growing far too familiar with.
Russell Wangersky’s column appears in SaltWire newspapers and websites across Atlantic Canada. He can be reached at [email protected] — Twitter: @wangersky.
