The hidden ‘essential’ workers
THEY’RE NOT JUST DOCTORS AND PHARMACISTS
As much as Douglas Washington would like to stay home like much of America and hide from the coronavirus outbreak, he knows the garbage around town isn’t going to pick up itself.
“I don’t have that privilege,” said Washington, a private sanitation worker. “The garbage has to go somewhere. If people start witnessing garbage piling up in the street you’re going to see a different type of madness.”
Washington doesn’t need a global pandemic to remind him that he is an essential worker, a vital cog in the wheel that makes New York, New York.
But with the labor market suddenly divided into three distinct groups — essential workers, remote workers and workers who aren’t even working anymore — Washington climbs into his truck each day with a different outlook on life.
Each empty street he passes, each lonely block he drives by at 7 a.m. during what used to be rush hour in Queens makes him thankful for the distraction, and grateful for the job, even in the worst of times
“I still pick up hospital refuse,” said Washington, 41, who has worked for Royal Waste Services for 18 years. “It’s kind of nerve-racking. I’ve been in sanitation for so long. We tend to think we’re supermen and we’re immune to a lot of different things and the environment we’re exposed to.”
Even if that’s true, Washington said he’s not taking any chances. The coronavirus is kryptonite, and even Superman needs to practice social distancing.
Washington isn’t the only one hitting the streets before the sun comes up. If there’s anyone who is considered an essential worker it’s Bill Pettit. He’s not a cop, or a firefighter or a doctor in an emergency room. But the truck he drives is filled with beer.
Bars and restaurants have been closed to keep people from clustering together, but any other places that sell liquor and beer have been allowed to stay open, and it’s Pettit’s job to get it to them.
“There’s an increase in business,” said Pettit, a driver at Clare Rose beer distribution. “We’re basically doing summertime numbers now. When people are forced to stay home, like in a snowstorm, there’s an increase in beer sales.”
The flip side, Pettit, said, are all the bars stuck with barrels of beer they can’t sell. But some distributors are cutting them a break and taking back the beer. For Pettit, that means a longer day.
“When you pull a 150pound barrel down the stairs on a hand truck, the last thing you want to do is bring it back up the stairs,” Pettit said. “But it’s tough, the restrictions that were put on them. We’re just trying to do our small part.”
Now, milk isn’t as tranquilizing as beer, but it is essential, and it’s Ralph Blasi’s job to get it to people who need it.
Blasi, a driver for Queensboro Farms, delivers to hospitals and nursing homes as well as delis and bodegas. Before he can enter a hospital or nursing
home, Blasi is screened by an aide who asks him a series of medical questions before scanning his forehead to take his temperature.
“Then we’re free to go in if everything is good,” Blasi said. “Each one has their own little routine.”
Consumers are also drowning their sorrows in soda, said Ray Schwarz, who delivers beverages for Coca-Cola.
When he gets to the supermarkets, Schwartz said he sees the hoarding up close, the empty shelves where toilet paper used to be.
“Everybody is on edge right now,” Schwartz said. “The world is coming to an end in their minds.
“The supermarkets are rather crazy. I’m seeing people hoarding water, paper tissues, napkins. On the other side it’s a good thing they opened up early for the senior citizens.”
Schwartz said working has been a welcome distraction. His family is filled with essential workers. His son works in a supermarket, and his daughter is a hospital social worker. His wife is the only one working from home.
“I’m 62 years old,” Schwartz said. “In the back of my mind it bothers me. But life goes on. Keeping your mind occupied and doing what you got to do, that’s a good thing.”