Social distancing, fucking social distancing!
I´m ashamed of myself and, whether you are interested or not, I´m going to tell you why.
This
morning I went to the VI to pass the review of the six years of the Mitsubishi
and when I was in the office to deliver the technical data sheet of the
vehicle, the driving license and others, I have witnessed a situation that
makes me blush morally speaking even though more than eight hours have passed
since the event; In fact, I have been reproaching myself for my behaviour, the
omission on my part of being able to help a man who, once the papers were
presented, could not close the process because his credit card — it is not
possible, due to the covid, to pay in cash — didn´t work.
Between
me and the troubled taxpayer was another person, but both this person and I
remained impassive at the conjunction that presented itself to our friend. We
thought that the thing was not going with us.
I
don´t know if the person who was in the middle of the queue, that is, in front
of me and behind the man who could not pay, it occurred to him, like me, to
lend him the credit card and receive in exchange the amount of the inspeção in cash and thus end the annoyance
of the moment, but what´s certain is that neither the person who preceded me
nor I moved a finger.
Throughout
the day I have been blaming myself for not having been more empathetic and
having helped the man who would have to make an appointment again and have to
travel from his residence to the VI station again. Would he live in town or
maybe he would have to travel forty or fifty kilometres to comply with the MOT
regulations?
In
my view — and I don´t know if you will agree — the cause of my regrettable
omission was the obnoxious physical distancing. And no, I´m not referring to
the possibility or not of transmitting the virus, but to the detachment of
feelings that being physically aloof from people implies.
Let
me make clear that between the man who could not use his card and me there
would be about 4 or 5 meters, because between him and the man in the middle
there was a yellow circle painted on the ground reminding them of the usual two
meters of safety distance and another two meters or maybe more between the
circle of the second man in the queue and the circle on which I had placed the
tip of my shoes.
Eventually,
the man left and I began to reproach myself for my unforgivable lack of tact.
I
can vouch that the reason I didn't make the slightest attempt to take my wallet
out was the fucking distance between his problem and my comfort space: those 4
or 5 meters of separation were enough to cool my feeling of putting myself in
his shoes.
So I
argue that if there had not been yellow circles on the ground as separation
posts and I hadn´t had a person in front of me who served as a ‘protection
screen’ and that if I had been a meter or a meter and a half from the man that
needed help, I´m inclined to assure you that with my card the fix would have
been solved.
So I wonder if sociologists or those who statistically measure any human action — or omission — have found out what is the ideal distance for us to be more generous and less impassive.
From my Borstal.
LDR
No comments:
Post a Comment