Little Victories

During these difficult times I feel like we need to work out what it takes to make ourselves feel good again. Unfortunately, almost all of these things require other people. It’s only while I’ve been isolated that I’ve realised how many people I used to see on a daily basis, because now I get excited to see people like the postman, and I jump at the chance to speak to someone, literally anyone, about anything. I even tried texting HM_Gov back the other day, but nobody replied. I suppose they’re all quite busy.

It’s not just basic interactions that make us feel good though. Generally, it’s things that really don’t matter that give us the biggest boost. Like those little charity boxes you sometimes find next to tills, and that bit where you pack your bag in supermarkets. When you get change that totals roughly 12p and you spy the box, you decide that this shall be your good deed for the day, locking eyes with the cashier as you pop it in the slot just so they know how good a person you are. Then you carry on your day, able to look down on others you pass in the street, for they have not given - as you have - to the needy. So what if you take the last toilet roll in the supermarket, so what if you trip up that toddler? You can still rest safely in the knowledge that you are, indeed, a good person.

I suppose contactless is killing this sort of income for charity though. The only modern equivalent I can think of is that new charity option in McDonalds where you can round up your order to the nearest pound and give it to Ronald McDonald (what happened to him, by the way? Not heard from him in ages) so that he can pass it on to the homeless, or starving children. I mean, it’s less than a pound, you’re standing there with a tray full of food, you’d be better bunging that in a jiffy bag and sending it to them. Again, doesn’t stop you feeling good though, as you sit in a lonely car park eating lukewarm chicken nuggets. Mmm, luxury.

Apart from charity, though, one of the only other small victories I can think of relates to snow days. You know, when you were in school and it was one of those days where it was snowing but they still make you come in? I think that must give the senior staff such a power trip, making us all schlep into school through waist-high snow while half of them sit at home watching reruns of The Bill with a cup-a-soup. But those select few who did make it in, the warriors of the modern world, would just spend half a day talking about who went in and who didn’t, like,

‘Ooh what about James, is James in?’

‘No, he’s not in, I don’t think’

‘Well he should be, he lives closer than I do, he lives closer to school. Why’s he not here but I am, hm? Wouldn’t mind if he lives miles out but he lives closer than me.’

He’s basically your neighbour, he only lives three doors closer, and his mum’s in a wheelchair. Let the man have a day off. All you’re going to do is watch a film anyway.