VI. Writings From the Edge of the Apocalypse: Epilogue
January 1, 2021
The Personal Plant Shopping Approach, a valiant attempt to meet the needs of the many, ultimately became too much for the few. With changing protocols and greater clarity, after being walloped for two months, we closed for a week, caught up on orders, and re-opened to the public.
It was a little sad opening the snow globe and letting “others,” the un-initiated, into what had become my greenhouse and our club. I had loved the free wheeling banter with my colleges that never could have happened with customers in earshot. But it was also a relief. The line of cars waiting to pick-up orders was replaced with lines of people waiting to get into the store and shop for themselves. And wow were they happy about it. As part of the store rotation, I stood many times at the front door welcoming customers. The amount of goodwill and love this nursery has created over the years is remarkable.
I’m well past the honey moon phase of the job because there was no chance for one. No foreplay, no nothing. It was straight into hard labor. And yet, this is the most comfortable I have been in any community. Of course where humans dwell there is drama, and everyone has a story. Yet there is no posturing here. No one trying to be deeper. Just a bunch of self-directed introverts, which turns out to be code for “reluctant alphas”, trying to do a good job.
It’s quiet now. Seasonal hires met with their expected demise in the late summer cull and are gone. I made it through and am now part of the greenhouse team within the greater enterprise of the nursery. I witnessed the insanity of the pending apocalypse and watched it turn into a more normal yet still unpredictable, crazy garden madness. Marched through the seasonal changes that even COVID can’t mess with, although global warming can, and watched the impact of winter on the nursery as it slowly winds down to the inevitable lack of things to do. I really don’t like being underutilized, and as hard as those initial days were, I am looking forward to next spring when the shit hits a COVD free fan. I will also have a year of hard won knowledge under my belt.
My hair is long. I thought about buzzing it early on, but I saw too many women around my age coming in with freshly shorn pates. The look became synonymous in my head with anxiety and COVID, so I went the other way. Instead I focused on finding non-transferable lipstick that I can wear under my mask. It’s beautiful.
356,445 people have died from COVID-19, almost 356,000 more than when I started at the nursery last March. Yet not a single employee has become infected with COVID while working here, a testament to masks, being outdoors, and keeping your distance. I also have a theory that some exotic alchemy is created by all the different plants we take care of, a benefit for the humans who tend them.
I am deeply grateful for my employment in this beautiful environment, and for the lack of isolation I have felt, a misery many have endured. I genuinely like my co-workers and appreciate the support we have given each other through the insanity of it all.
As for my former job in planet yoga, I didn’t quite make it out the door with my retirement. The pandemic made for a protracted exit as I still have obligations left to fulfill. I’m in an odd position of needing to get the studio reopened so I can completely quit. But with all that has gone on, it’s not hard to say, it could be worse.
Onward and upward.
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