This morning I rode my bicycle almost 40 km (25 miles) to and from a weekly pop-up community and farm market. Each summer Saturday morning they set up the tables and open stalls outside, on a small crescent bordering on a lake. It’s a very pretty setting, and has always been a pleasant place to visit.
When I ride to our local farm, to a grocery store, or to this community market, I use a special pack system on my bike. It’s purple and has fold-out saddlebags, with a rectangular container over the rear tire, so that I can bring back plenty of fresh vegetables and other goodies.
This time around I biked home with a 3 litre (12 cup) basket of strawberries from Quinn Farm, attached to the top of my bike-pack with its built-in elastic-cord system. I’d put the basket of berries into a clear plastic bag, so it must have looked pretty funny on my ride home!
Unfortunately the rest of my visit to the market wasn’t so funny. Folks there were pretty much all keeping to the COVID-19 physical distancing guidelines, following the markings on the pavement. Although face masks aren’t required at outdoor markets, all of the merchants and most of the clients were wearing them.
There was a line-up to get into the market area, and everyone was patiently waiting in the queue – despite the hot and humid weather. Just after I’d finished waiting my turn in line, and had gotten into the area with the market stalls, an older man tried to butt into the line right behind me.
He was too close to me, much less than the 2 metre (6 foot) distance required by our public health guidelines – to both me and the woman behind me in line. There were two market employees right there, a young woman standing in front of a long wooden table and a fellow standing behind it.
She pointed back to the line-up trailing out behind us, and politely explained to this older man that he had to go to the back of the queue to enter the market area. He refused, in a bullying tone of voice. You know the type, know the reaction.
After a few exchanges of words, with the market employee still being very polite, this man began to raise his voice. I’d turned around by this time, so saw what happened when she again explained that they couldn’t let him cut in line.
He stepped towards her and began to raise his right arm, puffing out his chest, as though he was going to poke or push her: “No, I’m not lining up. What are you going to do, block me?!” Being belligerent. Being a bully. “Not on my watch”, I thought to myself, “I’m not going to just stand here and do nothing”.
So as this older man was almost yelling at the young woman, “What are you going to do, block me?!”, I pulled my bicycle sideways, wedging it between the market employees’ long wooden table and the metal barrier. “As a matter of fact, I am going to block you. It’s not fair to everyone waiting in line if you cut in, and these two are just doing their jobs. Just go get in line.”
I said it calmly, and politely, but is that how he reacted? Nope. He took a step back, and then kicked at my bike. With a solid kick. I couldn’t believe it! Luckily the chain wheel on my bicycle is pretty solid, so no damage was done.
I did this without thinking, and never felt as though I was in any danger. And I’d temporarily forgotten about my rare disease. Unfortunately, that kick to my bike chain vibrated up the metal to my right hand, which had been resting on the seat of my bicycle.
That simple vibration triggered a neuropathic pain flare, a feeling as though electric shocks were running down my arm from Complex Regional Pain Syndrome (CRPS). I felt as though I was going to be sick, to vomit right there and then. Luckily, I was able to choke the bile back down; I’ve become fairly good at doing that.
By this time other people had seen what was happening and were starting to come towards us, and the bully seemed to suddenly notice this: “I’m out of here. Stupid place.” And he stalked off. About a half hour later, as I was leaving the market, I saw him again.
I’d had to stay at the market longer than planned, waiting for the pain flare to subside a bit so that I could get back onto my bike for the ride home. He must have gotten into the line-up at the other end of the crescent, as there are two entrances to the market area. I couldn’t resist…
I asked whether he was going to apologize for kicking my bike. Some of the people who’d seen what he’d done were nearby, so he grudgingly apologized to me.
And those two young market employees? They stopped me as I was leaving the market, to thank me for standing up for them. They hadn’t known what to do or how to react, because they’re supposed to be pleasant to the market customers.
They were both still shocked by what had happened. I told them that they shouldn’t have to deal with that kind of bullying behavior. No one should. Especially not when they’re just trying to keep everyone safe!
I told a few friends about this, people who live in different cities across Canada and the US. Sadly, many weren’t at all surprised by this. One told me that, “As a mom to a teen employee trying to sustain safety protocols at her workplace, I sincerely thank you for your advocacy.”
Another of my friends, mother to a twenty-something mall employee, said that “No one stands up for these employees when someone starts to bully them – and it’s just not fair. They’re doing their jobs to keep everyone safe, including these bullies.”
This isn’t the type of story that I usually share here on the blog, but I think it’s an important reminder that we should all be looking out for the folks who are trying to keep us all safe. If you see someone bullying an employee who is simply trying to enforce their employer’s COVID-19 safety rules, please say something.
If it’s not safe for you to intervene, please take a moment to find a security employee or a store or business manager. As always, thanks so much for stopping by the blog. Feel free to reach out to me on Twitter or Instagram if you have any comments. Stay safe, and take care.