Inundated by Those in Need

Summary

The article describes the challenges faced by a volunteer at Bread of Life, a food pantry, amidst the COVID-19 pandemic, including a significant increase in demand, changes in volunteer staff, and the impersonal nature of service due to safety protocols.

Abstract

The author reflects on their 14-year experience as a volunteer at Bread of Life, a food pantry that has seen a dramatic shift due to the pandemic. Pre-pandemic, the pantry served around a hundred customers, but the number has doubled, leading to long queues and a constantly overwhelmed volunteer crew. The implementation of safety measures, such as mandatory mask-wearing, has stripped the interactions of personal touch, reducing them to transactional exchanges. The volunteer expresses a sense of loss for the previous camaraderie and the ability to recognize familiar faces, as well as the joy of serving the community, which has been overshadowed by the stress of the current situation.

Opinions

The author nostalgically recalls the enjoyment of recognizing and interacting with regular customers, now lost due to mask mandates and safety protocols.
There is a clear sense of frustration and being overwhelmed by the surge in demand for food assistance, with the volunteer crew struggling to keep up.
The pandemic has led to a depersonalization of the service, with pre-bagged groceries and no room for special requests, which is a significant shift from the previous personalized approach.
The author laments the absence of choice for customers, highlighting the impersonal nature of the current distribution process.
The volunteer's anticipation for Friday afternoons has turned from a sense of fulfillment to relief that the challenging workweek is ending.
The article suggests a sense of burnout among the volunteers, with the author looking forward to the end of the workweek more than the service itself.

Journal entry: January 27, 2021

Today marks my 14th year as a volunteer at Bread of Life, a pantry which distributes food to needy families on Wednesdays and Fridays.

I always looked forward to serving the customers, most of whom I knew by sight, if not by name.

My use of past tense is by intent. In the reign of Corona, precautionary measures have been implemented. All must be masked. I no longer know whether I know the customer I’m serving.

For that matter, I don’t know most of the volunteers. Erstwhile colleagues have fled in fear of Corona. They’ve been replaced by those displaced discourtesy of Corona. These comprise a rotating roster of students abruptly “expelled” from college, as well as sundry newly unemployables in the restaurant and other service industries.

We are swamped by the swarm of people for whom a paycheck is a phantom. Pre-pandemic, we rarely topped one hundred customers; these days two hundred and fifty is the norm. The line snakes from our lot to the far end of the lot of our neighbors’ neighbor’s neighbor.

I used to enjoy exchanging pleasantries with my regular customers. Nowadays, personal interactions have devolved to depersonalized transactions. We no longer offer customers any choice; groceries are pre-bagged and slung across the regulation six-foot width of the countertop.

May I have eggs and mil — -

Sorry, no special orders; you get what you get. Next!

(Repeat above exchange x 250)

I used to look forward to Friday afternoon.

Now I look forward to Friday night.

Inundated by Those in Need

Always in arrears: masked masses descend

Journal entry: January 27, 2021

Further reflections on this theme, one year on:

Losing Patience

Volunteer crew is overwhelmed and frustrated