The Coronavirus Diaries: Possibly the Penultimate

A flowering tree in Saint Sulpice, Switzerland. April 22, 2020.

Arnaud said I should title this entry “This is Getting Old.” I don’t know if he meant the stay-at-home situation or the diary. I went with something somewhat more highbrow and possibly less self-denigrating.

This is the seventh entry in a diary I’ve posted weekly to document the happenings, thoughts, and impressions I’ve had during the coronavirus pandemic.

To begin from the beginning, click here. (To review all entries in the coronavirus diaries, you can do so via this link.)

Monday, April 20, 2020

I read that the United States plans to halt immigration, ostensibly to protect jobs. Given that people won’t move for jobs that don’t exist and that the current administration didn’t want immigrants even when the country had more jobs than people to fill them, it seems this move has little to do with jobs and everything to do with ideology.

I’ve read news reports across the globe of leaders using the crisis as an excuse for despotism. Hungary’s prime minister has effectively declared a dictatorship.

The dominant discourse in Europe and the United States has shifted from the number of COVID-19 cases to the best ways to lift stay-at-home restrictions without flooding the health care system.

I finish my essay for The Johns Hopkins Magazine on my coronavirus diaries and submit it.

Tuesday, April 21, 2020

Arnaud’s university has a community meeting. The university’s leadership doesn’t mention a timeline for returning employees and faculty to campus.

FrogDog has decided to trial a new CRM system, a project underway since before the crisis started. This week, I’ll reach out to key contacts to see who needs marketing help to come out of this crisis—and who conserved enough budget to bring help on board.

I’ve seen a few articles shaming large companies in the United States for taking money from the government loan programs intended to help small businesses. Some of the companies publicly shamed have said they’ll return the money. Given that most large companies that have received funds will fly under the radar, the majority of them will keep the cash.

Wednesday, April 22, 2020

The Swiss government decides not to require people to wear masks in public. However, it recommends that they do so.

A Swiss flag with the word “Merci” written under it in the upper window of a building in Saint Sulpice, Switzerland. April 22, 2020.

I try to contribute to my French language networking group via its Slack channel. I feel more comfortable communicating in writing, where I can think about what I want to say and how to say it, revise what I’ve written as needed, and avoid pronunciation.

I communicate in written English better than in verbal English, come to think of it. A pattern?

Thursday, April 23, 2020

Though the Swiss government hasn’t required them, it announces that it will send masks to all supermarkets to sell for a set low price (80 cents each).

Twitter tells me that it’s World Book Day. Whether true or not, I respond with my list of Q1 2020 reads, with my favorites in bold. I hope to garner some book recommendations.

Via a letter posted online from the Johns Hopkins president, I learn that the university has a preliminary plan for addressing the financial effects of the COVID-19 crisis. He lists “furloughs and layoffs” for staff and administration as one measure. I haven’t heard back from my contacts at the magazine about my essay; whether the essay still has a place or not, I hope the best for the magazine team.

I begin to see marketing messaging touting “Made in XYZ.” Clearly, several companies have decided to lean on a nationalist theme as a “safe” campaign angle coming out of the crisis.

Every nation does it, this touting of stuff made in the country. I feel ambivalent about this tendency.

I understand the drive to buy products made and grown locally, when possible, to help save transportation costs and support sustainable agriculture. I support the idea of buying from local small businesses rather than ordering on-line as well.

However, most products sold as “Made in XYZ” don’t have all elements (ingredients, components, and what-have-you) sourced locally. Something manufactured in one place usually comes together from pieces pulled from all over the world.

For these reasons, “Made in XYZ” smells disingenuous. I see a willful obfuscation of the inextricably intertwined global economy and marketplace to manipulate people by playing on nationalist tendencies. I see companies capitalizing on and promoting nationalist rhetoric.

And these nationalist tendencies and their rhetoric cause me concern. Buying products as an expression of patriotism makes me uncomfortable. Strong nationalist trends don’t have good outcomes in the history of the world. Why can’t we ever learn from history?

Friday, April 24, 2020

Today, Arnaud says he wants to get out of the apartment. I suggest fun activities and options for indoors and outdoors, but none satisfy. We play a board game at his suggestion, but he’s crabby as we play. I call off the game and a time out for the rest of the evening. He’s operated under a foul mood all week. Better to let him work through the funk. My trying to fix it doesn’t help.

I don’t feel particularly constrained by the stay-at-home orders. However, I have worked from home for a couple of years now and I rarely have time for much beyond work and errands, which I continue to do. Not having friends in Lausanne quite yet likely helps as well; my preconfinement routine didn’t include lunches and dinners out with pals.

I attend an on-line webinar conducted out of Montreal. My French comprehension doesn’t hold up to strong accents. To my ear, the first presenter just makes a bunch of sounds.

A screenshot from the first minutes of The Creative Mornings Montreal webinar I attended (with minimal comprehension on my part). April 24, 2020.

On my evening walk, I see a take-away creperie open along the lakefront. It has demarcated lines showing the distances required between people ordering and waiting and has large stickers on the windows instructing people to stand back.

Just before bed, I see an e-mail from The Johns Hopkins Magazine editor about my essay. She has a few comments, which I’ll spend time with on Monday.

Saturday, April 25, 2020

Though the day has blown in overcast, people at work on their boats along the lakefront have smiles for me.

Arnaud buys masks ahead of our grocery visit today. A set of fifty flimsy paper accordion-style masks cost more than a franc each at the pharmacy. (We assume the set-price masks provisioned by the government haven’t yet arrived in the supermarket.) When I put my mask on, it doesn’t fit my face. I don’t feel safer or more careful of others’ safety. No matter how much I position it, the mask rides up into my eyes—a blinding effect, and a painful one if I don’t close my eyelids fast enough. Also, the humidity! How do people who wear these masks all the time deal with the humidity?

Arnaud and me in our flimsy paper masks on the way into the supermarket. April 25, 2020.

Earlier in the week, I learned from my language-exchange partner during our Skype French-English practice session that the cheesemonger on our street never closed, as the government considers cheesemongers essential businesses. (Bakeries never closed, either. Herein further reminders that I live in the French diaspora of Europe.) I stop into the cheesemonger and we have a small conversation. She needs a moment to adjust to my accent, but later praises my French. Progress?

I Skype with friends in Texas. My friend Joanne surprises me by inviting my friend Vince and his husband Mark. Though they can only join for a few minutes ahead of a Zoom yoga class, I enjoy seeing them. After they sign off, my friend Krishna joins the call.

We try to make predictions. Krishna says that she believes people want everything to return to the old normal as quickly as possible. In her estimation, very few current behaviors will last post-crisis.

I believe certain new habits will stick. Companies will have a hard time telling employees that they can’t do their jobs remotely or partially remotely. Businesses will realize they can conduct some meetings via videoconference, rather than via business travel. Some education will remain forever on-line, rather than in the classroom. Now that doctors’ offices and payers in the United States have aligned on telemedicine, virtual visits via videoconference will continue for many types of patient-doctor consultations. More businesses, products, and services will appear on the market that allow companies and people to work, play, and interact seamlessly from any location.

In terms of wishes: I hope that on the other side of all of this, we continue to have video calls with friends and networking groups. We could have done it before—Skype has existed for decades now—but we didn’t. I think we all see the benefit of these calls now. And I hope that some of the forced busyness we imposed on our lives will abate. I hope we’ll have recognized that time for rest, reflection, and quiet time alone and together has immense value.

A nurse made from hay bales with the word “Merci” on her hat seen on Arnaud’s Saturday morning long bike ride. Vaud, Switzerland. April 25, 2020.

Sunday, April 26, 2020

The gradual unfurling of stay-at-home restrictions starts tomorrow in Switzerland.

Arnaud and I talk over lunch about the logic of what will open and what will not. I don’t understand the decision to open hair salons. I still haven’t made a hair appointment; I don’t know how comfortable I feel with someone breathing on me in proximity for half an hour. Flower shops will open, and this doesn’t bother me—though they seem like a strange first-stage choice. The move to open nonessential doctors’ offices makes sense, though.

This is the second year that The Chateau d’Ouchy has had black tulips in its side garden. I love them. Also, they seem particularly fitting during the crisis. April 26, 2020.

We talk about the hardships for small shop owners, who have stayed closed for several weeks. In Switzerland, they do not qualify for unemployment benefits (as they do not count as “employees”). Arnaud doesn’t believe shop owners in France have the same challenge.

The U.S. government considers at least some types of business owners in the same manner as the Swiss. For example, I could not factor into my Payroll Protection Plan loan request any funds for paying myself for my labor, as I don’t count as an employee. I understand the rationale behind not paying unemployment to business owners in normal times. However, for owners who don’t have an exceptionally deep cash reserve, this consideration (or lack of consideration) in a crisis beyond their prevention or control will annihilate their personal and professional standing.

In this crisis, the “little guys”—the shop, restaurant, and other small business owners—will come out the worst. Many won’t come out at all.

Closing in on the End

I post this diary entry just before bedtime on April 26, 2020, in Lausanne, Switzerland.

I’ll start a new diary for week eight tomorrow morning, as next week marks the first week in the gradual post-crisis reopening in Switzerland. I don’t know that I will continue into a ninth week; I can’t tell whether I’ll have much more to say on a daily basis that really fits the subject and the purpose of this project. I may transition into postscripts as needed thereafter.

However, only the week ahead will tell us. We’ll see how it transpires.

P.S.—For the other entries in the coronavirus diary and other insights and experiences through COVID-19, you can read through my diaries and essays about the coronavirus crisis here.