In Your Face

Sometimes you can’t see what’s right in front of you. Stare as hard as you like. It just doesn’t register. Take this photo as an example. What do you see? If your list of things includes the glass window between the camera lens and everything else, then well done you. If it doesn’t then don’t feel too bad. It’s just because the window is ever so clean. Once an hour, every hour, a cleaner comes by and polishes it a bit.

This is, of course, a coronavirus inspired cleaning regime. This time last year the glass windows that sit between clerks and customers were cleaned, at best, once a week. Usually on a Sunday. And by the time they were eventually cleaned, they were a frightful mess. Thousands upon thousands of spots or spittle, snot and other respiratory grot was stuck fast to the glass. All sorts of sizes and a surprising variety of colours too.

These windows are veritable Petri dishes, strung vertically in front of us. Even in the Before Days, when we weren’t so bothered by the thoughts of viruses and whatnot, they were a disgusting sight. We remarked on them. They might technically have been a security feature rather than a sanitary device, but we were – still are – most glad to have them for their latter quality.

If government scientists had been really smart, then back in February 2020 they’d have had clerks at railway ticket offices take window swabs at the end of each day, to send away for analysis. The results may have given them a good idea of how many people were infected. Better still, they’d have had a good idea of where they’d come from and where they were going.

In most customer facing industries, in the Before Days, there were no protective screens. In stores, offices and showrooms, perspex screens simply didn’t exist before spring/summer 2020. All this human gunk, rather than being intercepted, would have been sprayed directly into the faces of cashier, clerk, advisor. Indeed, it would have been a two way thing.

I need absolutely no convincing as to the benefits of wearing a face mask. None at all.