The End of the World – Again

Copyright 2021 by Timothy Frazier

I’ve lived through the end of the world multiple times, as have several billion other people. The first end of the world I can remember was the election of Jimmy Carter. Dad convinced me that the peanut farmer would be sending troops to take our firearms, and we would all die in a blaze of glory, after which the feds would pry our guns from our cold, dead hands.

We miraculously survived the Carter administration, with an energy crisis to boot. The next end of the world came in the form of mutually assured destruction through nuclear war between the United States and the Soviet Union. During those years we prepared for the nuclear holocaust by learning to crouch under our school desks with our heads between our knees in combined tornado/A-bomb drills. I was never fully convinced that placing my head between my knees would shield me from radiation.

Having survived that, and a few other ends of the world that weren’t severe enough to waste syllables on like HIV/AIDS, and Y2K, I felt that the end of the world was a bit overrated. I’d never been impacted directly in a negative way by any of them, and Y2K actually was very profitable for me as companies backed dump trucks full of money up to my door to prevent other companies from poaching my skills in ferreting out and patching the millennium bug prior to the biggest non-event in history.

There was also the global warming end of the world, which I haven’t lived through yet, because the date keeps getting pushed back depending on whether the occupant of the White House is boring or exciting.

While I was awaiting a firm date for the global warming end of the world, the COVID-19 end of the world struck. I, like many others, was totally unprepared when toilet paper became unobtanium. I was confused as to why that was the staple that millions chose to buy up and horde. You need lots of toilet paper to deal with explosive bowel movements associated with ebola or food poisoning. For COVID-19 you need therapeutics, and perhaps a ten percent increase in toilet paper for additional nose blowing. You don’t need a cargo container ship of bath tissue per family.

We managed to get by in my house with a single large order of cheap, single ply industrial tissue to tide us over until the panic buying receded. It was “John Wayne” bathroom tissue…rough, tough, and wouldn’t take crap off anyone.

My dog training business up to that point was in spectacular shape. I was at the crest of an economic boom that was historical, and for several months hadn’t had to worry about deciding whether to pay the mortgage or the utility bill.

Suddenly the impact of COVID-19 on toilet paper availability was eclipsed by business shutdowns and layoffs. Media frenzy escalated over the spread of the virus, data models predicted millions of forthcoming deaths, and my client pipeline dried up. The risk of inviting a dog trainer into one’s home was too high. For a couple of months my business was dead in the water. Then, as people began to realize that the streets were not littered with occupied body bags after all, it began to pick back up.

Lots of folks were now working at home who had previously been daily commuters. That meant they were having to spend more time with their untrained, ill behaved dogs. As one new client told me, “Now that I see what my spouse has been putting up with every day while I was at the office, I agree that we need to get the sonuvabitch trained.”

Others decided that all the extra time on their hands was an opportunity to adopt a dog or buy a puppy, and the COVID-19 doggy rush was on. Shelters recorded historically high adoption rates, and my service was once again in high demand.

There was one hitch, however: masks.

I specialize in remediation of large, high risk, aggressive dogs. Aside from us hairless apes, dogs are the only species on the planet scientifically proven to recognise human faces. Many dogs feel threatened by faces covered in masks. So I don’t wear a mask when I train, and I make that policy clear to potential clients at my appointment website and in the automated appointment reminder emails.

One day, as I was preparing to start my training rounds, I noticed a client had added a note to her appointment, despite my clear notices of said policy.

“Please come prepared to wear a mask.”

So I dialed her up and reiterated that I don’t wear a mask. Before I could begin to explain the reasoning, she interrupted in a tirade liberally laced with profanity.

“Why the hell do all you dog trainer’s think the law doesn’t apply to you?! You aren’t supposed to be running a business without wearing a {%%#}ing mask.”

I gently interrupted and explained that no such law applied to my business. She then informed me I was wrong, and the governor had mandated it. At that point I decided she was not interested in facts and told her I wasn’t forcing anyone to use my service. I suggested that she find a trainer who was willing to wear a mask. This evoked another invective filled torrent of curses, and she told me she couldn’t find any trainers in her area that would wear a mask. To which I responded that that was a good indication that most trainers in the area must know what they’re doing.

Believe it or not, she decided to keep the appointment. I arrived maskless and we did the training session outside. Within five minutes of starting the session, she and her husband had both removed their masks because it was too hot. A week later we had another maskless session. The dog and the clients were progressing well, and very satisfied with results.

I can only assume that somewhere between the second and third session the couple had gotten involved in a heated facebook or Twitter debate over masks, because when I arrived for the third appointment the husband informed me that now his dog was familiar with me I should wear a mask. I told him flat out that I wouldn’t. He then made the mistake of playing the “employer-employee” card.

“Well, since I’m paying you to be here I would think you’d abide by my wishes.” he huffed.

My customer service attitude evaporated as I replied, “Look, Pal,” (If I ever address you as “Pal”, rest assured you are not my pal) “I charge $500 an hour to wear a mask. I charge $125 an hour to train your dog. Decide which one you’re paying for or find another trainer.”

His wife interrupted at that point and sent hubby sulking into the house. I finished the training session with the dog and wife, and haven’t heard from them since. Fortunately the goals they had set for their dog had been accomplished, so I assume they were satisfied with the training if not the attitude.

Meanwhile, the COVID-19 end of the world continues, but it doesn’t appear to affect dogs, so those of us seven billion or so humans who survive this end of the world will still have man’s best friend to keep us company.

Copyright 2021 by Timothy Frazier