It was the thirteenth password reset. He had written them down on a little white page in a special wire-bound notebook. He kept crossing them out and writing down new ones. Every time that he did this, he would let out an exasperated sigh.
There was nothing that I could do. I was in a similar situation trying to order some groceries. I kept going to the site, but there were never any “delivery windows” open. I didn’t know what that meant. It just boiled down to the fact that we would have no almond milk in the morning. Lots of people were going without. The virus was making us get a little strange.
The virus made the world twist itself into a hard knot.
I was very happy with the delivery people. They were quick, funny and very smart with my orders. If they couldn’t find what I was looking for, they would call me and ask for replacement suggestions. But, with the virus keeping a lot of people at home, the delivery clerks and drivers at the stores were overwhelmed. Their union had clamored for help. Apparently, the stores were not providing for them and they were going to strike.
We had enough food for a week or so, but we would have to go without a couple of luxuries like milk and eggs. It was hard to think or consider those things luxuries. I normally think of sushi or fried chicken as a luxury. The virus had changed our perceptions so that the ordinary had become extraordinary. In a way, we had to be grateful.
You needed the password to get food delivered. Tech troubles.