A line of 20 or so people stand outside the grocery store in Stephenville, Texas as I walk up to the front door. All eyes are watching me, waiting to be let in.
Yes, we are open.
Yes, you must wear a face mask to come in.
Yes, we are out of toilet paper.
I raise my voice over the crowd of people standing in front of me. Some head to their cars after hearing. 'Yes, we are out of toilet paper. "
Since the start of COVID-19, customers would wait outside in the wee hours of the morning just to make sure they were able to get toilet paper and other essentials that had been wiped out the day prior.
I work as a bookkeeper for the grocery store, and I am one of the first employees to get there in the morning. The doors open. Everyone runs inside, grabbing toilet paper and bread from shelves. Aisle’s instantly raked of items they once carried.
Is this how it was right before Hurricane Katrina? Hurricane Harvey? The feeling of utter panic, knowing everything in your vicinity is about to be wiped out. Or, maybe like the Great Depression? Have little rations, flocking inside, anxiously waiting for clerks to restock the shelves, grabbing what you need and then some, uncertain when you will be able to get more.
Truck shipments would sometimes come during the day, instead of at night like usual, and store leaders would block off the toilet paper aisle with shopping carts just so they could restock it, just to have it wiped out minutes later.
I would keep thinking to myself, “This is crazy” and “People are overreacting.” My breaking point came a few days later when I realized the severity of it all. I was covering the customer service desk for my co-workers when they took their breaks. The store was swamped, and I prayed that these next 30 minutes go by quickly so I could go home soon.
A tiny, elderly lady approached my desk. “Excuse me, ma’am. Do you know where I could find some toilet paper?”
“I’m sorry, but we are out," I replied. "We’ve been getting shipments in, but none with toilet paper yet."
“Can you hold any back for me when it comes?” she asked.
“Unfortunately, we aren’t allowed to do that.”
Looking somewhat defeated, but not surprised, the lady nodded. “That’s OK, I will just go to McDonald’s again. Thank you, ma’am.”
“McDonald’s?” I asked, confused.
“Yes, I have been getting napkins from there, because I haven’t been able to find toilet paper anywhere.”
Disbelief washed over me, as did the tears that welled up in my eyes. Why has the world come to this?
I told the lady to wait, and I sprinted to the back of the store. “There has to be some back here,” I thought to myself. I search and search and finally found the large rolls of toilet paper that take up space in the maintenance closet.
I grabbed a few rolls, shove them into a grocery sack and handed them to the lady.
“You really don’t have to, it’s OK,” she said.
“Please take them, I am so sorry you are having to go through this, it’s terrible” I responded.
The woman smiled, said thank you and walked out of the store.
Still feeling emotional, I returned to the service desk. Sadness crashed over me as I thought about how selfish people seemed. Hoarding toilet paper, paper towels and bread. Taking from helpless old ladies. Wanting it all for themselves.
My feelings were mixed.
My boss walked over to me after seeing what I had done. I could tell she thought I had done the right thing. "Go grab some more toilet paper rolls from the back,” she said.
I am feeling grateful. Grateful that I am in a position to be able to provide for others when I can. It doesn’t seem like a lot, but being able to help out during a season of crazy feels good. It makes me think that I’m not alone and there are other kind-hearted people hopefully doing the same.
My boss and I started passing them out at the front door to customers who were in need. They seemed genuinely grateful. It’s not enough though, just a smooth patch over the rough panic that envelops this town, a small sliver of hope. Yet, hope trumps fear every time. Or, at least, it did with the elderly woman I helped.
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