Notes on the Grippe

Being an accounting of the recent and continuing pandemic and its various circumstances, from the perspective of an inhabitant of the regions lately called the Lost Quarter. Dates unknown.

Day Ninety One

My love has received word that many of her coworkers no longer have jobs. (Let Go. Terminated. Laid Off. Made redundant. Downsized. Fired. How many euphemisms we have, all straining to put a kindly face on a miserable act.) They join the millions of others across the Dominions who have suffered the same fate. Until now her work had escaped such grim decisions, though it seemed inevitable given the stagnation resulting from the world’s quarantine laws.

It is devastating news to receive, even if not entirely unexpected, for of course there were people she knew among those who lost their jobs. Mentors and friends. And, as always in these situations, there is not less work to do, just fewer people to share the burden of doing it. So, in addition to mourning those who have lost so much, she must also take on new duties, all while worrying about what is to come. For if things do not improve, which they may not for so long as the dread lord retains his full powers, then there may be further cuts to come.

After such a sorrowful day, during which we had to toil at our desks, we went for a walk together in the sunshine. We began in solemn silence, before talking of our fears for both our jobs and what we will do if we lose them. We talked of changing careers, starting our own businesses, or even moving to other parts of the Greater Dominion since opportunities are meager here for the foreseeable future. Of course, who knows if they will be any better elsewhere after the grippe reborn has been vanquished.  

Hard choices await so many of us, but it is near impossible to plan for them with so much uncertainty in our lives.

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