North Shore Times (New Zealand)
MIQ is not a swear word
There have been a few new swear words created since the onset of Covid. One of them appears to be MIQ. When people say it, they shake their heads in despair, or spit and roar with anger.
The way some friends trying to get home talk, you’d think MIQ was actually a person. A mean wizard-like creature who changes the rules of the game, just when you think you’re winning.
Some might say MIQ is a giant beast made up of thousands of militants choosing who gets home and who doesn’t, then jailing them and standing guard.
Well, I say, some of my best friends are MIQ workers, and they’re actually good guys.
MIQ is made up of all sorts: the Defence Force, nurses, police, ministry and health board staff and the tourism and hospitality industry. In most cases they chose their professions because they like people and wanted to be helpful. In the case of tourism and hospitality workers, they even wanted to show others a good time.
Then suddenly, out of the blue, they found themselves as some sort of jailers. Dropping paper bags of food at inmates’ doors and running away to avoid contamination.
The business of being a hotelier flipped on its head. There’s no talking to the customer, no concierge, no nice chap delivering room service, and certainly no day spa.
It’s lousy being locked up except for the occasional walk in the exercise yard, but it’s also awful being a hotel staffer who’s working in level 4-type conditions without interacting with guests.
So, thank goodness for the digital age and the ingenuity of hotels who’ve bent over backwards to provide a bit of entertainment, whether it be Zoom yoga or ‘‘Zoomba’’.
Friends staying in MIQ have posted TikToks, reels and pictures of how their milestones have been recognised: birthday and anniversary cards and cakes or just a simple note, quote or reminder of how many days left, to brighten up another groundhog day.
Imagine being stuck in MIQ at Christmas with your kids. MIQ treated the 500 children in-house with a reindeer food station to feed Santa’s helpers and somehow magical old Santa dropped off stockings on each child’s door.
At New Year, the manager at Jet Park Hamilton turned DJ and went party mode, but he was probably just trying to outdo his maintenance man, who on Anzac Day had played The Last Post on his trumpet.
I say, look out for Easter if you’re in MIQ. And skip the diet.
You really can’t be mad with the people coming up with these ideas, can you? Well, evidently we can. It is with horror that I am still hearing of the way we’re treating MIQ staff, who have been stigmatised by their communities. There are reports of them being ‘‘uninvited’’ to neighbourhood barbecues and barred from going to their children’s school meetings or on to school grounds to pick up their kids.
They’ve been turned away from rental property viewings, confronted in supermarkets, and even had problems booking the doctor or dentist.
MIQ workers collectively have helped over 220,000 travellers return home and carefully supported more than 3600 community Covid cases. Like I said, some of my best friends are MIQ workers, and they are not a swear word.
At the end of all this, you might try having a beer with one and hear some of their stories. I can assure you they’re not pretty, but they might have experienced the most important job they’ve ever done.