Letter From the Editor: A Reality-Morality Check

Illustration by Dana Binfet

I cannot remember the last time I struggled so deeply to push a button. I cannot remember the last time a green icon instigated such intense feelings of guilt and indecision.

Every time I stare at the “Place Order” button of my Instacart order, my shoulders feel heavy. My chest tightens. It’s as if my body is channeling the anxieties and illnesses that these front-of-the-line shoppers face throughout groceries stores, throughout cities, all the way to my doorstep.

I have only placed a few Instacart orders in my life, and they have all been within the past seven weeks of coronavirus-induced quarantine. My mantra whenever I click that fateful order button?

Desperate times call for desperate measures.

I’ve heard this phrase on repeat lately, not just from my own mouth but from the mouths of so many other individuals. This phrase can act as a fairly reliable means of justification for taking actions that your conscious would otherwise scream at you for even considering.

This expression carries different meanings for different circumstances. While I am currently without a source of income and fearful about the stagnancy of my bank account, I have decided that my health is my priority at this time. I am fortunate enough to be able to make that choice. So, for me, this phrase enables me to stay safely indoors while allowing somebody else to risk their mental and physical health to do my grocery shopping for me.

For those essential workers in the service industry, the word “desperate” in this mantra often carries a heavier meaning. For workers at Instacart, Amazon, Target, Whole Foods, and other industries still providing customer service during the coronavirus pandemic, their income has taken priority. For some, maintaining their livelihoods is synonymous with maintaining their lives.

Worker dissatisfaction at these companies is nothing new. But, it’s easier for customers to turn a blind eye toward the high-risk workplaces of companies like Amazon when we aren’t in the middle of a global pandemic. In normal times, the “desperation” of these workers that enables them to sit quietly while their bodies and minds deteriorate due to physical and mental stress seems like a choice. If you hate your job so much, why don’t you just get another one? It’s that easy!

Coronavirus has brought a shining spotlight upon the true subjugation of service employees. Over 30 million U.S. workers have filed for unemployment since the start of the pandemic, and companies like Instacart have recruited many of these newly-unemployed individuals to their armies that currently stand on the front lines.

May 1 is historically the biggest protest day for the working class, and this year was no exception. Protestors found ways to demonstrate publicly while following social distancing protocol. Nurses, Instacart workers, and renters demanding for mortgage cancellation and moratoriums on evictions were just some of the demonstrators advocating for their causes this past weekend.

Now more than ever, these employees deserve better pay, benefits, and protections. They have always deserved for these demands to be met, but the lack of hazard pay and personal protective equipment has added much more fuel to the fire.

Fliers calling for a nationwide one-day boycott of big retailers transcended all major social media platforms, but the long-term effects of Friday’s protests are to be determined.

In all honesty, I would like to make a vow to stop contributing to these companies’ profit margins. But I am genuinely afraid to make that promise. I am afraid that my anxieties about entering a grocery store will continue to be amplified through my mind, shattering the glass on my moral compass and obstructing my ability to move in the direction of bigger-picture thinking.

I say this because I have a feeling I am not the only one struggling with morality these days. Our consumerist society has skewed our sense of judgment, and the line between getting your needs met and deeply neglecting the needs of others grows more blurred as technology advances and we grow accustomed to the instantaneous nature of delivery services.

That being said, I do feel as though happy mediums exist, and I feel capable of easing into them. I’m looking into lesser-known locations within my community that may feel low-risk enough to get my groceries at for myself. I may ask a friend if they can grab a few things for me on their trip to the market. At the very least, I feel I can commit to boycotting these companies until they give their employees what they’ve asked for.

No matter where our morals and values lie, these are desperate times. We have to give ourselves grace. And yes, we have to make sure our needs are met. But in these desperate times, there has to be a way to compromise. Everything isn’t always so black-and-white.