A couple weeks ago, I was standing in line at the checkout at my local drug store. The line wasn’t moving swiftly, and the woman in front of me made a lighthearted comment to that effect.
I replied in a similar lighthearted manner, and so it went for a quick minute. A couple of laughs, a chuckle, and merry, merry.
Just then the woman removed her blue paper face covering.
“Oh,” she said. “I suppose I really don’t have to wear this.”
I smiled. “No, not really,” was my answer. “No need.”
She then went on about her flu jabs and COVID jabs, ending with a cheery “I had COVID and now I have all the vaccines available, so I’m fully vaccinated.” She smiled broadly. She also seemed apologetic. It was odd.
I politely smiled, and thankfully, the checkout line moved fast enough for her to be the next customer to check out.
As I drove back home. I thought about that strange encounter.
What possesses people to inform perfect strangers their medical accomplishments?
I don’t care who did or didn’t accept the jabs. It really isn’t my business, for if relating your medical history to strangers is the new way to produce idle chit chat and make friends, perhaps I should relate some truly disgusting – and fake – medical stories, too. I can see it now, when a stranger tells me they’ve been jabbed. My answers could be:
“My! And here all I got is genital warts.”
“Hey! I’m done with my syphilis treatments.”
“Would you like to see my gall bladder scars?”
Taking the jab and announcing it to the world seems to be a bragging right for the True Believers, indeed. I find it the ultimate in virtue signaling, and it is truly repulsive.
©2022, excerpt from “Passage to Paradise” and “Too Soon! They Cried” – ColcannonMetropolis