Skip to main content

Just Want To Spit on Somebody: Fictional COVID Satire

I once worked in customer service. You know, the job where you paste a smile on your face when all you want to do is let that other person have what ought to be coming to them. But of course, you keep the smile, keep the words, and keep on serving. For the small, silly reason that you want to keep your job (though, those of us that have quit, know that we’d never take such a job back. Even when our bosses have told us over and over, “Oh, but you were made for customer service!”). 

Hah. Made for it. 

But how the world has changed. 

Now, or so I heard, rude customer service is encouraged. Of course, only for the correct political reasons. Maybe I would have stayed in the business, had it been so in my day . . . 

But then maybe not. Back then I definitely had my moments of wishing to spit in people’s faces. But now . . . with that warning constantly being bombarded into my eardrums, I’m sure I’d not be able to curb the temptation. 

Back then I’d merely have been fired. I’m thinking it might be a hate crime now. Don’t know. Nearly tried it the other day when some employee thought they had to let me know I was out of place for not wearing a mask. 

“I’m sorry,” I said, wishing neither to educate nor be educated. “I can’t wear a mask.” 

I thought she’d leave me alone. To be fair, normally they leave me alone. 

But no. Suddenly she was right in my space, so close I had to clench my jaw tight to keep from spitting. What happened to personal space? Before all this, I loved my bubble just like any other introvert. I was rather glad when I’d heard it was politically correct to keep six feet apart. Guess that only applies if you’re not in customer service. 

“You have to wear a mask in this store,” she said again. 

I backed away so that I could breathe with my mouth open. “I’m sorry,” I replied. “I can’t.” 

“Then you can’t shop here.” 

“Alright.” I turned to leave. I guess I’d save a few dollars today. 

But the woman grabbed me. “You do know that people like you are the reason our country hasn’t been able to return to normal.” 

Normal? I wanted to laugh. I guess propaganda from both sides would have them believe there once had been something remotely called normal. I simply said. “Oh?” 

She blocked my path, clearly not going to move until her venting was finished. 

I crossed my arms, waiting. 

“All you self-righteous conservatives thinking that some delusional form of liberty is more important than people’s lives and that you’re better than me because you can smile—” 

“Actually, I like my glare to be visible.” 

“ —at the rest of us who actually care about oth—excuse me?” 

“I don’t cover my face, because I want people to see my ever-present gloom. And I like to be able to spit when necessary.” 

I’m glad she was wearing a mask because the woman sputtered. Finally, she said. “Why don’t you all just stop denying COVID’S threat. This thing is real and lives are at stake.” 

“Oh, I’m not denying COVID. And that is why I’m careful with who I spit on.” 

With that she, at last, backed away from me, giving me the personal space I so much desired.

My good manners kicked in once more. “Good day, ma’am.” 

And so I left. 

But not before I watched her take her vengeance out on a couple unmasked teens, beating them over the backs with a box of trash bags. 

Yes, indeed. What has modern customer service come to? 

Ah, but how can I blame her? Because once I wanted to do the same. I wonder if she felt better for it? 

“Hey, lady,” they shouted. “That’s assault!” 

“You must wear masks!”

*The month of April is for COVID. Because even though none of us want to hear about it anymore, I accidentally wrote a few pieces. This story is satirical fiction.


  1. It's....really sad how believable this piece of fiction is. *laughs* *but the laugh turns into a sob*

    1. So. This was actually inspired by a Google review of Albertson's where the reviewer said she'd witnessed an employee beating a few teens with a box of trash bags for not wearing masks. In our local town, too 😅 I later found and contacted the reviewer on FB but she thought my curiosity creepy, and had little to say other than her complaint had been ignored.

  2. I'm getting tired of all the covid and masks and the arguments on both sides. I rarely wear a mask, and always walk in a store without one, but if I'm politely asked to wear one, I politely put one on (if it happens to fall off a few minutes later...oops...hehe). Like, it's a business preference, imo. My local tea store lady asks me to wear one in her story. I want to support her small business (and buy tea), so I put one on.

    I think, in the entirety of the whole covid "thing" I've been asked probably only 3-4 times to put one on, and I think there are 2-3 times where I judged a situation and put one on before entering.

    I've had a few casual comments about my lack of a mask, and I usually say "oh, I drove here in my farm car, the one where I'll be out petting pigs and mucking stalls and then drive around in...that's what you need to be worried about around me lol"

    1. Yeah, I think we are all tired of it. Sounds like you have something that's working out for your own peace of mind! Great going! People leave me alone for the most part, too. Quite nice. And yeah, people have been rude at times, too. But... who cares. Lol.


Post a Comment

Popular Posts

Living Like The Amish: Interviews With Three "English" Families PART I

Many people are obsessed with the Amish. I know at one time I was as well, and to a degree I still am. But my perception  has changed with experience. It started a long time ago when my family went to an Amish-held auction (no, it's not a place where you can buy Amish children, but a place where you can buy things from the Amish). I was eleven years old and enthralled to be surrounded by so many Amish. I loved the cockscomb flowers they sold everywhere. I bought a whole box for $2 and dried them for seeds so I could plant my own. But then I experienced my first reality shock concerning the Amish. I had assumed since they lived a simpler life everything about them was completely old-fashioned and natural. Imagine my horror when I saw Amish walking around with soda cans and store-bought ice cream. " Mom ," I said. "He's drinking soda!"  Left to right, back row: Jonny, Jonathan (Dad). Front row: Jacob, Keturah, Rebekah (Mom), Jonah (on Mom's

Peace During Patience

“Be careful for nothing; but in every thing by prayer and supplication with thanksgiving let your requests be made known unto God.” - Philippians 4:6 My family and I were sitting around the breakfast table several months ago. Mom had just read this verse. One of the kids laughed incredulously, “What is it saying? Be careful for nothing – live recklessly?” “No,” I answered quickly. My tone was very matter-of-fact, blunt, as if I were all-knowing. “It means do not worry.” The kids all nodded among themselves and life continued on for them. But for me life paused at my words. I had heard this verse soooooooo many times. I had always known what it meant. But now? Now it really meant something . “Do not worry.” This path I've chosen. I can not see it. I can not feel it. I do not know where I am. I have chosen to follow God, and no other. But why did He hide the light from my eyes? I must take a step forward. But I do not want to. How long w

Inside The Land Of The Free

Hello. My name is Greg.  I have a lot of time to think. Too much time. Sometimes I think about my life - why I am sitting in prison. I wonder what I could have done different - my life plays before my eyes. "If only..." But even I know that no amount of good works would have stopped tyranny from finding fault with me. It is cold. My clothes are thin. My stomach is empty - occasionally filled with food of no sustenance.  I hide my face in my knees - as if that will somehow protect me from the horrors of this dark cold dungeon.  They keep it cold to freeze me, this I know. It is a part of their game - to drive a lesson into me. As if I have a lesson to learn solely because I was convicted. Convicted, but not  guilty. Years.  68 years for standing against injustice. How many years have I sat in here? I have forgot. All I know is this question, "Was I fated for this? Did God grant my birth

It Doesn't Take a Genius to Recognize Corruption

After attending the writer's conference I had the opportunity to spend a week with my dad in Las Vegas (we went to federal court trials). I don't usually speak much of his work as I'm not sure all what to say about it. He keeps the public updated with what's happening in court, with all the many men locked up that he's trying to help out. I think he said there are like 19 guys right now that he is specifically trying to help release.  {If any of you have heard of the Bundy Ranch Stand Off, you'll know a little of what he is doing} I won't go into too much detail with his work. I will say if you want to know more of how to help out and learn what's going on just do some googling - my dad's name is John Lamb. You should be able to find plenty on him ;p Anyways, I was quite shocked the first day. Security didn't surprise me at all. Very much like an airport ;p  Except, most of the security was actually nicer ;) I was very p