LET'S COUNT TO TEN. PLEASE.

You would think that coming out of hibernation after a three month quarantine, people would be happy, rested, relaxed, smiling and thrilled to inhale fresh air as they elbow-bump and resume a nuance of normalcy. 

Nope. Many have emerged like angry momma grizzlies, taking their frustration, anger and anxiety out on store clerks and restaurant help, people who don’t write the rules.

I’ve witnessed it.  And I’m sorry to say, I’m also guilty. 

Last Monday I walked into a large fabric store in New Hampshire. Gloved, masked and standing six feet away from the Service Desk, I asked the owner, “Is there a special area you stock pink and green fabric?” He was unmasked, he wasn’t smiling, and he answered tersely, “Everywhere.”  

“But, specifically upholstery-weight cottons…” I tried to say, when he interrupted and said, “Just go look yourself.”

Behind my mask I was not smiling. I asked, “This IS the Service Desk, isn’t it?” 

Did I feel good about my zinger?  Sort of. But losing my cool over a bolt of green fabric is a bit much. Who knows what that man has gone through the past few months?

A friend of mine who hostesses at an outdoor tent restaurant steps from Kennebunkport’s Dock Square told me, “I was seating a couple when the man stopped, stood very close and asked, ‘Why are you wearing a mask?’ I told him it was for my safety and his, and that it was a restaurant rule. He just scoffed.’”

Another day, the manager at a local nursery whispered over a lilac bush transaction, “We can’t believe how downright nasty some customers are. They don’t want to wait in line six feet apart. They’re all in a huge hurry. They get irate when we tell them we’ve run out of peonies or soaker hoses and can’t get more this season. One of my best helpers told me customers have been so obnoxious, he wants to quit — he’s been here six years!”

Part of the problem is that we are wearing masks. Masks hide smiles and facial expressions. Masks allow us to silently curse at people without them knowing. Masks cloak the obvious.

But, understandably, people feel nervous and anxious because they don’t want to get the virulent virus. They might test negative this afternoon but could be exposed to a symptomatic carrier tomorrow. That’s scary. The national death toll now nears 122,000. The CDC projects that number could soar to 145,000 by July 11, meaning 23,000 Americans might die in the next few weeks.

With cases rising in numerous parts of the country, with the strong possibility of a resurgence of COVID-19 later this year, with family members and friends suffering economically or parentally, no wonder the tension meter continues to inch up. Even a quick trip to Hannaford to pick up a pound of Kate’s Sea Salted Butter can be a test: mask the face, pull on the plastic gloves, wait in line outside, follow the arrows inside to negotiate the aisles, wait until a cashier is available, then Purell the hands when you get back in the car.

But really, we’ve got to chill. And accept the inconveniences. And calm down. And wear the mask.  And please, count to ten.