I was at the liquor store and there was a man, maybe in his late 20s, in the aisle wearing scrubs looking in the same wine section I was.
I did that thing you do when you’re in the aisle with someone who’s looking at the same stuff you are so you back up to allow him the same view- like you’re both in the same row at a concert. But when I did, he just moved in front of me and squatted down in front of the bottles.
As is my trademark, I said nothing. Instead, I stepped back because 1. My knees were weirdly close to his back, and 2. He smelled a little.
He looked disheveled from what I imagined to be a chaotic day in a hospital.
He glanced over his shoulder at me. “Oh, am I in your way?”
“No, it’s ok, go ahead,” I assured him.
The thing is, he took that as an invitation to take forever.
I crouched a little over his head with my hands on my knees to get a closer look at the labels We looked like an umpire and a catcher.
I looked straight down.
Never did I think when I woke up this morning that at some point today I would be so closely facing a strange man’s scalp.
I silently mouthed, “Get up!” to the top of his head then wondered if anybody saw me do that.
His phone rang and he took the call in his squat. “Sup….Yeah…picking up wine now… should be home soon…terrible day, I’m beat, felt like a hundred people today…what?…yeah…friggin exhausted…nonstop crap all day…ok, later,” and hung up.
He looked over his shoulder, “Sorry.”
“No problem.” I lied.
He stood up and stretched, arching his back, “Oh man am I tired.”
No one says that to a stranger unless they want conversation.
“I’ll bet,” I reluctantly gave in,” this must be a crazy time for guys in your field.”
“Shit yeah. We’re swamped.”
He stretched his arms over his head confirming that hygiene held a position of low urgency on his to-do list. I stepped back and blamed it on social distancing.
(I made a mental note to use that when I’m met with revolting breath too.)
“So I guess kicking back with a glass of wine is the plan?” I asked smiling, “maybe a hot shower too?” I nodded ‘yes’ while I said that last activity to kind of drive the point home.
“Definitely…” (Then he did it) “…I’m heading home,” he continued, “getting out of these scrubs AUHRA RAHR RO RHEM head to bed.”
I winced and turned my head away. “Oh man, buddy, you’re kidding me.”
“What?” He asked, surprised.
“Never do that again.”
“Do what?” He pressed me.
“That yawn-talk thing you just did.”
“What?” He asked with half a laugh.
“Going forward, you should never again talk through a yawn. Your words are unintelligible…”
“Are you kidding me, man?”
“… and you just gave me an unrequested tour of the inside of your mouth – with all the phlegm and stuff.”
“Sor-ry,” he sarcastically said.
“Look. I know you’re exhausted from work with all this coronavirus stuff but nothing you can say is so important that it can’t wait until you finish yawning.”
He squinted trying to decide if I was serious.
“Yawn-Talk? You’re joking, right?”
“Listen, you guys on the front lines of this crisis deserve our gratitude but THAT? Your words are indecipherable and I don’t want to see your molars and stuff.”
“Front lines…uh, yeah.“
I pointed at his scrubs, “You know, in a hospital and all.”
He sighed. “I, uh, don’t work in a hospital.”
“Where do you work?”
“The veterinary clinic”
“You’re a VET?”
“No, I work the reception desk…”
He immediately realized empty that sounded compared to what I thought he did so he bulked it up. “…signing people in, taking calls, weighing dogs when they come in…”
“Weighing dogs? You’re exhausted from weighing dogs? What, do you lift them over your head and guess their weight? You walk them onto a scale! How can you be tired from that?”
“Bro…”
“Bro nothing! You’re playing the scrubs card!”
“No, I’m not!”
“You most certainly are playing the scrubs card! When people see scrubs they immediately think of healthcare workers and they…”
“That’s not why I’m wearing…”
“Oh come on, you’re looking for the special treatment they deserve AND I saw your uvula. Christ this day went to Hell fast for me.”
“You saw my what?”
“SEE! If you were a healthcare worker you’d know that.”
A moment of quiet fell.
“Look, “ he said, ”maybe I could’ve changed before leaving work, but…”
“Hey,” I interrupted, “forget it. There’s enough crap going on now.”
He extended his elbow in the new COVID handshake, “Later, bro.” He smiled with a wink.
“You should avoid that wink thing, too” I said as walked down the aisle. “that and yawn-talk.”
I’m not sure he heard me.
I think he did.