Panic Response

A dozen or so ways to think about the constant bother that would have me believe that it rules everything around me

The supermarket checkout is a scene of judgment - moral, financial, personal judgment.

I see people putting items back, or holding items off to the side until they see the subtotal on the cash register screen. People split their bill between credit cards, debit cards, gift cards and cash. When they get it wrong and have to put something back, the cashier has to call in a VOID!

A customer with the voided item apologizes to the cashier, and glances back to acknowledge the line they’re holding up. The checkout is full of easy equations to get wrong. The food costs more than it did even a week ago. Some of the cashiers put the purchased food into the bags, which you have to pay for. Others don’t.

The supermarket hired a security guard a few months ago. He wears a bright yellow vest and has kind eyes. When he sees me with my kids, he nods, as if to apologize that he needs to be there.

It’s been said that the American supermarket is the great achievement of our age. But this scene drips with anxiety. And its very ordinariness makes it such an easy test to fail. I lost my temper at the checkout just the other day.

Panic and anxiety

This same supermarket is haunted by a recent moment when it was the scene of panic.

During the pandemic, people needed more food at home. Restaurants were closed, and there was a common dread that there might not be food on the shelves soon. The supermarkets were crowded. The aisles were narrow. The supermarket employees were underpaid and essential. They still are. But we’ve stopped talking that way.

Panics come and go. And every panic is different. I feel like we’re still in a panic - a slow-burn, white-knuckle anxiety that drains the derring-do and joy from our days. If you start to count the reasons, we’d be here all day. No one asks for your right to be panicked. It’s not something where qualifications count much.

To escape the anxiety, we turn on a show, which offers a displaced panic of just-missed true loves and car chases. See, it’s just a TV show. At least we’re not in a burning helicopter while our high-school sweetheart is marrying the wrong man.