The behavioural scientists in the government advisory group were shocked at just how happy the UK public were to follow rules. They thought that we had a bit more gumption to us and would suffer from lockdown fatigue after a few weeks and start to rebel. It turns out that the only person that happened to was the government’s own advisor. The rest of us just accepted what we were told and went with it. Obviously, it helped that they were constantly telling us that we would die if we didn’t stay at home.
Now that the choice to follow rules isn’t so simple, people watching has become even more interesting. Rules now vary from place to place. Each business is being left to decide what ‘rules’ they will have to make the world Covid safe. This causes confusion and forces people to think about what rules they will follow and how they will behave when there is one they are not happy with.
Yesterday, I went to lunch with a friend and recent member of the Dead Mum Club (DMC). It was just what I needed: a long walk, nice food, good company and a discussion about grief.
The cafe was on the sea wall, next to a caravan park. The sun was shining and an ozone filled breeze strong enough to blow my crisps of my plate, brought the tide in. Kids from the caravan park were digging in the sand and splashing in the water, while the more upmarket locals zipped past on their yachts and sail boards. The water was packed and it felt like a holiday.
The cafe, in its attempt to be covid-compliant had set out its outdoor tables at the regulation distance. They had two bigger tables and the rest were small (for parties of 2-3). Those tables were two small ones pushed together. When we arrived there was only a big table free. We asked the waitress how it worked (you sat down and then one of you queued to go inside to order the food, give your name and contact number, and the waitress brings it out to you).
“Can we move these tables apart, so that someone else can use them?” we asked, thinking of their profits.
“No, the tables have to stay where they are and you can’t sit down until I’ve sanitised.”
We decided to wait until the next small table left.
Following that rule wasn’t too difficult for us. We understood the reason (2m rule, even though we, from different households weren’t 2m apart). When I went in to order, however, there was a ‘rule’ I couldn’t follow.
A bottle of medical grade 80% alcohol hand sanitiser was on the table.
“Have you sanitised?” staff snapped at everyone entering.
Now, I struggle with this product. I knew I wasn’t going to comply with the rule. It didn’t make sense to me. The member of staff I was dealing with was behind a screen and I used a chip and pin card to pay. My hands pretty much stayed inside my pockets. How people react when they aren’t going to follow a rule is something I find really interesting. I chose to pretend and accidentally got some on my hands, which after I’d payed caused a mini panic attack because of the smell. (This was easily fixed with a trip to the bathroom to wash my hands properly and some breathing exercises).
While we were eating there were several people who couldn’t understand why the tables couldn’t be separated. There were several different responses to this rule. Some people happily accepted it, others tried to argue. The tables were full and there were two ladies already sitting at a big table. Stupidly, in my opinion, they had chosen to sit at one end rather than spread themselves over the two. An extremely large and loud man and his henpecked wife, in a blue floral smock arrived. He saw the two ladies and started to lower his weary body into one of the spare chairs.
Although I didn’t hear it, I assume the ladies told him that he couldn’t sit there, so he started to move the tables apart and make a bit of noise. There was no waitress around to explain the rules.
“I don’t want to get into an argument but they are not going to let you do that,” the woman said.
He started shouting about his rights and how ridiculous it was.
A man on one of the small tables called over, “Its alright, mate, you can have my table, we were about to go anyway.”
The man wasn’t happy. He was prepared to stick to his guns. He thought the rule was stupid and no one was going to change his mind. The wife of the man who had offered his table muttered, “Its his wife you’ve got to feel sorry for,” as they walked past us.
Eventually, he opted for a spot of topless sunbathing on the sea wall and I was reminded of the seals at Blakeney point.
You have read this and are immediately against this man but if the world is going to change to a new normal, we should be thinking about what rules we are prepared to accept and those we want to challenge. By pretending to use the hand sanitiser have I forever given permission for people to use the word sanitise? Have I given credence to the stupid idea that it’s better to rub yourself in alcohol than it is to wash your hands with hot soapy water?
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