Today, we drove to Marikina to buy lunch from a small restaurant we used to visit before. While it sounds like a trivial thing any other time, during the never-ending lockdowns of the capitol this pandemic, this is a very welcome distraction and relief from the boredom of the four walls of the home office. What was once a routine visit became an exciting field trip.
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| The empty seats and display cabinets of the restaurant we visited. |
My family waited outside as I ordered the takeout. Noticeable are the empty chairs where there once were families and friends dining. Gone are the people waiting in line at the parking lot waiting for their turn to order and sit. The staff are still jovial, and their inside jokes reverberate inside the almost empty restaurant. The regulars are available, but the list of available menu items has significantly shortened. There's two empty display cabinets once used for cakes and confections.
During this pandemic, the authorities have to perform a very difficult balancing act. On one hand, there is a necessity for protecting people from contracting the virus, which is the reason for the extended immobility (or, at least limited mobility) for the majority of the population. On the other hand, prolonging the lockdowns and limited movement of people and goods also create a domino effect on the livelihood of people. Many establishments will definitely lose money, making them cut their employees, if not close altogether. It is like choosing how to die: either suddenly by the virus, or slowly through loss of livelihood.
As I wait for my order to be done (they have to cook the food as ordered, because they'll lose more money if pre-cooked food goes bad), I put myself in the shoes of the owners of small businesses during this pandemic. These people, of course, have risked a lot for ventures that will promise significant rewards later on. Their indomitable spirit is what drives businesses, and the economy, in general. Many people therefore consider them to be modern-day visionaries.
They probably took risks by taking out loans to start getting their plans into action. They probably even started at a loss; they were probably lucky just to get even at first. They probably started their businesses with a core group of people whom they trust, people who understood the risks, probably even took pay cuts at first, people who have become family, who shared the joys and the pains with them.
It was probably rewarding to see the business eventually take off.
It must therefore be heartbreaking to see the pandemic wipe out the gains.
They probably had to say goodbye to some of their staff, who had been with them through the good and bad but they simply could no longer support financially. They must have had a hard time with the banks, reorganizing their loans and missing some of the things they are due. They probably feel sad just opening the shop everyday, realizing that there will be a few people who will avail of their services for that day (that is, if they are lucky enough to even have customers).
I remembered my favorite restaurant during college, which, because of the pandemic, closed permanently a few months back. I have no idea where the kind managers and servers are right now; I hope they can still support their families. It is saddening to realize how the pandemic affects not just people but everything else: businesses, travel, even societal norms and conduct. The world may never be the same again even after all this is over.
The cashier greeted me and gave me a huge paper bag for my order. I sprayed alcohol on my hands before gripping the folded top of the paper bag. I stopped by and placed a significant (I hope!) tip inside the tip box. I smiled at the guard and glanced back at the empty hall. “You can do it,” I murmured as I stepped outside. “I know you can. I sure hope you can.” ■
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